“I’m quite certain ye’ve no such cousin; elsewise, he wouldn’t let you down here by yerself. And I’m not the type to let you go on alone.” He stepped forward and grabbed my arm.
My lungs seized, no air going in or out.
“No fancy words now, eh?” He wrenched my arm forward.
My limbs were frozen, not by the cold air but by his touch. Terror crept over me, only heightening my paralysis. He dragged me forward, and I was helpless to resist. A passing thought came that I should yell for help. But even my voice had vanished with the fear that had capsized all of my earlier determination.
The man leered down at me. “I’ll be sure to teach ya a thing er two.”
Ringing sounded in my ears, drowning out the screaming of the storm. That jolted me from my stupor. If I didn’t act now, no one would hear me above the storm. I gave myself only five breaths to think, to plan.
The man was strong, his grip unyielding. My only hope was to catch him off guard. To pray his reactions would be slowed by the drink that flowed through him. My numb fingers shook as I unfastened the hook of my cloak. Fear pounded through my skull at the thought of what I was about to do. And what might happen if I failed.
Harry was depending on me. And I would not allow this man to come between me and finding him.
I’d been limp in his grasp for so long that the sudden twist of my elbow wrenched me free of him in one swift move. He bellowed in surprise and grabbed for my cloak, but expecting that, I’d already unfastened the hook and held it tightly, bracing myself against his strength so that when I let go, he staggered backward and fell to the ground with a thud.
And then I ran. Unfettered by my cloak, my boots pounded against the cobblestones. Darkness made it almost impossible to see more than a few steps in front of me, and I could only hope that would work to my advantage.
A mound of scrap wood was piled high against one of the warehouses, and I dove behind it, my limbs quivering with fear. Even with the steady dissonance of the storm, I halted my breathing, afraid the tiniest sound would give me away. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to make myself invisible.
I waited for a minute. And another. No sound came except for the whistle of the wind, the waves pounding the quay. I allowed a single breath to slide from my lungs. Still nothing.
I counted to ten, to fifty, to one hundred. The sleet battered me, but I was hardly aware. Slowly I loosened my hold on the clutching fear that had wound so tightly about me, uncertain it would ever let me go. My shoulders began to shake; my entire body began to tremble. I did not cry—I was shuddering too badly.
For the briefest moment I allowed myself to think of Halstead, of how badly I ached for him. Of the memory of his hand on the small of my back while the doctor had treated me. How I longed for his comforting touch now.
Above the storm came a sound, different from the whine of the wind—lonely and pitiful. A kitten rubbed against my ankle, mewing. The sound caught hold of me. I scooped the creature into my arms, giving it shelter against my chest. The kitten was nothing but matted wet fur, but to feel something alive against me, a small body with the tiniest of heartbeats, eased some of the tension from my chest.
I sighed and held the kitten for some minutes. When the cold grew greater than my fear, I got up, still clutching the kitten to my breast, and resumed the miserable and freezing walk back to Mrs. Morton’s home.
Chapter Thirty
It took a great deal of effort to force my eyes open, but the insistent light demanded it. When I finally succeeded, I squinted for a moment at the unfamiliar walls, the ceiling. A moment later my memory of the night before emerged from the foggy haze of my mind. That bone-chilling walk in the storm. Mrs. Morton undressing me, her maid rubbing me dry. The two of them laying me on a fainting couch near the fire. How I couldn’t stop shaking, even with the warmth of the flames and layers of blankets over me.
I stared at my hands. The trembling, though slight, still hadn’t abated.
Harry. He was still out there. The tightness in my chest hadn’t eased since I’d received word of his disappearance a few days before. But the hollow ache that pulsed just beneath that tightness? That had been there for far longer. I allowed myself only a heartbeat to think of Halstead before I banished his face from my memory.
It was for the best that things had ended the way they had between us. No, I didn’t belong with Robert, but I didn’t belong with Halstead either. I was not born to be a duchess, and I would never fit into his world. How ironic that Aunt Agnes had been right. Much as I despised her manipulation, she’d saved me from making a terrible mistake. Though my heart ached at Halstead’s absence, my head had come to terms with the truth. Once I found Harry, we could start over, just the two of us.
My feet were unusually warm. I slowly eased myself up, only to find the small kitten I’d brought home the night before curled up on my feet. His fur was now fluffed and dry, but it didn’t hide how thin he was.
“You gave me quite a fright, you know.” Mrs. Morton’s gentle voice directed my attention to the doorframe, where she stood, her hands resting on her stout hips. But only concern showed in the lines of her face.
“Thank you.” My
