There was no telling the damage a cornered man like Broxton could do in that time. Broxton might have twenty-four hours to make a decision, but Ethan would settle with the man tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Buoyant with relief that Ethan’s honor was no longer at risk, Sarah watched him join a mature man dressed as Zeus, complete with a glittery cutout of a lightning bolt. They moved slowly toward the private dining rooms with every appearance of deep conversation. As soon as they disappeared, Cedric Broxton came up behind her and took her elbow.
“Do you have a moment for me, Lady Sarah?” he asked.
She turned and tried to hide her shock when she saw him. He looked wild-eyed and breathless, as if he had been running or exerting himself. She had never seen him so…undone. Reggie’s earlier warning sprang to her mind, but she knew she could mend their rift.
“A moment,” she answered.
“In private?” Cedric asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Sarah frowned. “Shall we find an empty alcove?”
Cedric glanced toward the little alcoves placed between Grecian columns, some of which contained chairs or settees. “I would prefer more privacy than that.” He indicated that she should proceed him with a sweep of his hand.
She entered the dim corridor between the succession of rooms and headed to her left, toward one of the larger supper rooms. As they passed the servant’s stairs to an upper floor, Cedric jerked her sharply backward. When she tried to scream, he clamped his hand over her mouth and used his other arm to hold her hard against his chest.
She tried to twist away. Her robes tangled around her legs and prevented any effective defense. And, to her horror, her screams came out no louder than a sneeze.
“Stop it, Sarah,” Cedric’s moist breath against her ear sent cold shivers through her. “Struggle is useless.”
Determined to break away, she continued to struggle and emit muffled squeaks as he dragged her backward up the stairs. Her panic took a toll. She was growing weaker by the minute.
“Damn,” he snarled. He tightened his hand over her mouth and moved it up over her nose, cutting off her air. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to do this.”
What? Do what? she wondered, still thrashing and twisting. Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen. Her strength drained and the lights dimmed. Still struggling for breath, the darkness crowded in.
Her next awareness was of bursting up from deep water, gasping and clawing for air. She sat bolt upright and opened her eyes wide, blinking to focus.
“Ah,” Cedric said. “Back with the living, Lady Sarah?”
Nausea gurgled low in her stomach. Cedric was standing near an open window in a small room. From the feminine decor, she thought it must be a ladies’ retiring room. She was reclining on a green velvet chaise, and a side table bearing a washbasin and pitcher stood nearby. When she tried to push the hair from her eyes she realized her hands were bound in front of her with the purple cords from her coiffure.
“You’ve been crying in your dreams. Tell me, sweet Sarah, what terrors could such a prim little paragon be harboring?”
The sick feeling intensified. If there was any chance to get out of this, she would need to keep her wits about her.
They had to be somewhere in the Argyle Rooms. Should she scream? Even if they were in a vacant section of the immense structure, someone might hear.
Cedric chortled as he shrugged out of his jacket. “I almost gagged you, but no one will hear you. Still, a gag might be a nice touch.”
The thought of being gagged brought Sarah back to her senses. She studied Cedric’s face for any hint of madness. “What do you hope to accomplish with this tactic, Lord Cedric? Surely you know that Reggie will be angry.”
He loosened his cravat. “Lockwood will come to heel soon enough when I’ve got his precious sister in tow. I am taking you to Gretna Green, where you will stand before an anvil and plight your troth to me.”
Ah. So this was a simple case of anger at her rejection! “Please, Lord Cedric, I am honored by your offer of marriage, but I would abhor the married state and make a very poor wife, indeed. You are much better off without me.”
“I’ve no doubt of that.” He unfastened the buttons of his vest, a cruel quirk to his mouth.
“Then why?” She risked a glance at the knots that bound her hands and strained her wrists to loosen them. She realized with dismay that they were only tightening from her tugging.
“Because you, Lady Sarah Prim-’n-Proper, will be my salvation.” He stepped toward her.
“Sylvie says I snore,” she told him. “And my manners are not all they are cracked up to be. I have frequent headaches and assorted maladies. I…I am expensive to keep, and stubborn, too.”
“Do you think I care about those things? He shook his head, grinned and popped the studs at his shirt cuffs. “Once I get an heir on you, ’twill not matter what you do.”
“G-get an heir?” She cringed at the quaver in her voice.
Cedric’s careful disrobing took on a sinister meaning. Oh, why could she not loosen the cords around her wrists?
“Once you are my wife, in fact and deed, Lockwood will come to his senses.”
“This is a public place. You cannot drag me away, bound and gagged.” She swung her feet off the chaise and stood.
“I have no intention of doing so,” he said evenly, advancing on her. “We shall wait another few hours, and when everyone is gone home, we shall leave. My coach is waiting on Oxford Street. We shall take the northbound road to Scotland.”
She backed toward the door, keeping her eyes on him. “Reggie will be looking for me. He would not leave without me.”
“Oh, I think he would.” Cedric grinned. “He is used to you leaving events early to go nurse a sick headache. By the time he even thinks to look for you, the deed will be done.”
“Wh-what deed?” But she feared she already knew.
“We are going to have our wedding night just a tad early, Lady Sarah. That way, should Reggie find us, or catch us before we reach Scotland, he will have no choice but to consent to our marriage. Simple, really.”
“He…he would kill you first.” She bolted for the door and grasped the knob with her bound hands. Locked! She spun around to find Cedric grinning and holding up a key. She sagged in defeat.
“You will not escape. Do not even try.”
“What do you hope to gain by this foolhardy scheme?”
“Respectability, Lady Sarah. Your reputation will save me. The Foreign Office cannot send me away, nor bring me up on charges once you are my wife. They will let Travis take the fall again.”
Travis? “What have you done? What charges?”
“Just a little moneymaking enterprise,” he said. “Selling information can be quite lucrative. but it can have some unpleasant consequences. Let’s not talk about that.” He laughed. Actually laughed! “You’ve made me look a fool, and you will pay for all these months of careful courting. I should have just lifted your skirts and taken what I wanted.”
Selling information? Had Ethan taken the blame for Cedric’s crime, just as Reggie had at Eton? A chill invaded her bones and she strained again at the bonds around her wrists. Oh, where was Ethan?
Cedric reached her and snaked his arms around her to press a wet kiss on her neck. “So come, little Sarah, and lie down for me. ’Twill only hurt for a minute.”
The memory of Ethan’s tenderness, his soft, slow seduction, caused her to moan softly.
Ethan! Yes. She glanced toward the window, a desperate plan forming.
She brought her arms up against her chest to act as a wedge between her and Cedric. Using the leverage of her hands against his chest, she pushed as hard as she could.
Cedric staggered backward, flailing wildly to regain his balance. Without hesitation, Sarah lifted the water pitcher from the small table and brought it down sharply on his head. The porcelain shattered, sending shards of pottery showering to the floor. He fell to his k
nees and toppled forward. Sarah knelt and tried to push him over to gain access to his pocket. She needed that key!
He moaned and shook his head. Good heavens! He was not unconscious after all!
A puff of wind carried heavy fog through the window. She stood and staggered toward it, trying to keep her balance. She sat on the sill and swung her legs over. The ledge was not wide, but it was her only chance of escape. Holding to the window sash, she pulled herself into a standing position. She began edging toward the corner of the building, with her back against the wall, praying for a drainpipe, trellis, vine….
Her sandal slipped on fog-slick ledge and she struggled to correct herself. She could hear Ethan’s voice calming her, instructing her. Slow and steady, Sadie. Heavy fog can prove dangerous….
She could not use her bound hands to keep her balance or to cling to the stone facade. The wind was whipping tendrils of her untied hair into her eyes, obscuring her vision. Just when she thought it could get no worse, Cedric leaned out the window, emitted something closely resembling a growl and crawled out on the ledge after her.
Bloody hell! No Broxton. Ethan was nearly desperate to find him. Now that Broxton knew who had exposed him, the danger was doubled. He would be looking for a way to silence Ethan—and whoever had turned over the letters.
Failing to find Broxton, he’d gone in search of Sarah. He questioned her friends—discreetly, of course—with no concrete results. Grace Forbush said she’d seen Sarah heading for a refreshment room, but had not seen her in the past half hour.
He all but forgot Broxton in his search for Sarah. He went to the entrance hall to query the attendant at the cloakroom. Sarah’s wrap was still there. Alarm building, he climbed the steps to the Saloon Theatre again, hoping he’d simply overlooked her in the crowds.
Going up, he bumped into Sarah’s brother. “Sorry, Lockwood,” he said.
“Quite all right, Travis.”
At this point Ethan was desperate enough to run the risk of a set-down. “I hoped to see Lady Sarah again this evening. Do you know where I might find her?”
Lockwood hesitated only a moment. “No. I was just going to see if she had claimed her wrap or sent to have the coach brought ’round. ’Twould be unlike her to leave without giving me notice, but I cannot think of where else she might be.”
The troublesome little thought that had been nagging at the back of Ethan’s mind came forward. “Sarah’s wrap is still in the cloakroom. Have you seen Broxton?”
“Christ! Is he here?” Lockwood’s eyes rounded in astonishment.
“I saw him briefly earlier. He was hiding near the staircase.”
Lockwood checked his pocket watch. “She would not…I warned her to stay away from Broxton. He is angry over her refusal, and I would not put anything past him.”
Ethan remembered Sarah’s words earlier. His lungs constricted and he felt as if he could not breathe. “Sarah may have done something foolish,” he murmured.
Lockwood changed direction and climbed the stairs at Ethan’s heels. “I fear you are right.”
When they arrived at the top, Ethan pointed. “You search right. I’ll take the left. Meet me back here.”
Anxiety heightened his senses and he scoured the public rooms for any sign of Sarah. He peeked in every curtained alcove, every private box and every unlocked room. To no avail. He recalled that Lockwood had been on his way to see if his coach was still waiting. He decided to eliminate that possibility and hurried downstairs and into the street. The queue of waiting coaches ran several blocks long. A light windblown rain began to fall as he ran along the line of coaches. Two blocks down, the Hunter coach was easily identifiable by the family crest emblazoned on the doors. Another bad sign.
Before going back inside, he decided to search all around the building. As he rounded the corner to the rear, a blast of wind caused a flutter somewhere over his head. Sensing danger, he looked up to see Sarah, her hair loose and plastered to her face by the rain and driving wind, fighting to keep her balance on a narrow ledge twenty feet above the street. And, barely eight feet away, Cedric Broxton was edging toward her. Fear built in Ethan like a living animal, clawing and scratching to gain control.
He positioned himself beneath her and called up. “Sarah? Can you hear me?”
“Ethan?” She stared straight ahead.
“I am beneath you, Sarah.” He knew she was afraid to look down and wondered if she would have the courage, the trust, to do as he asked.
Broxton looked down and his mouth distorted in an ugly snarl. “Damn you, Travis. You think you’ve won, giving that letter over to my uncle. But I’ll still beat you.”
“Give it up, Broxton,” Ethan yelled above the wind. “Back away from Sarah.”
“She’s my last chance, Travis. She’s going to salvage what’s left of my life.”
The loud crack of splintering wood preceded the appearance of Lockwood in the window, a frantic look about him. “Cedric! What do you want? I’ll get it for you. Anything.”
Broxton looked back at Lockwood in the window, then at Sarah, trembling and unsteady as she neared the corner. “I want your sister. And I want things back the way they were.”
Ethan knew the situation was out of hand. Broxton was a desperate man, and he was not going to surrender. Unless Ethan missed his guess, Broxton was spiteful enough to destroy anyone who had crossed him. Anyone in his way. There was one chance, and it was slim.
“Sarah! Stop,” he yelled. “Steady, now. Take a deep breath.” He was relieved to see that she followed his instructions. From the corner of his eye, he saw Broxton closing the gap between them.
“I am directly under you. Can you see me?”
She shook her head. Wind and rain had plastered her hair around her face and across her eyes.
“Don’t jump. Just step off the ledge. I will catch you.”
A little sob broke in her voice. “I am terrified.”
“I know, love. I am, too. But it’s the only chance we have.”
Cedric’s arms stretched out to seize her and he lunged.
“Now, Sarah!”
She drew her bound hands against her chest, lifted her chin and stepped off the ledge.
Sarah understood with sudden simplicity how wrong she had been to keep Ethan at arm’s length—how much time she had wasted letting her fears control her—and vowed that, if she lived, she’d never make that mistake again. How odd, that everything should suddenly became so clear when one’s life was nearly over.
A man’s scream broke off abruptly as strong arms closed around her. Together she and Ethan tumbled to the ground with bone-jarring force, Ethan cushioning her fall with his body. They rolled on the cobblestones and then everything stilled.
A moment later there was an outcry and voices shouting to one another. For a moment the words made no sense, and then she heard Reggie yell to someone below, “Broxton fell headfirst!”
Another said, “He’s dead! Broken neck!”
Then her name was being called, and Ethan’s, too.
All that faded to insignificance when Ethan’s voice rasped, “Sarah? God! Say something.”
She managed a breathless laugh. “All the time we spent on rooftops, and you never taught me that trick.”
He stood, dragging her up with him, his right arm around her waist and his left arm dangling uselessly at his side. He crushed her against his chest and held her so tight that she could scarcely catch her breath.
“You are never,” he whispered in her ear, “ever to go out on a ledge again, no matter the cause. Do you understand?”
“Oh, Ethan. We cannot keep doing this. ’Tis making me crazy.”
“I can’t give you up, Sarah. I won’t.”
“How much?”
“What?”
She wondered if he would recognize the words that had seared her heart and begun her rebirth. “How much, Ethan? How much to sate my hunger, how much to…satisfy my curiosity? How much to spend every day and every nigh
t with you?”
He gave a deep throaty laugh that Sarah had never heard before. The sound was joyful and he held her tighter all the while. “How much? Your heart and soul, Sarah. Your love, and all your tomorrows. Nothing less. Are you prepared to pay so high a price?”
She sighed, the last of her fears fading in the strong and steady beat of his heart as he followed his demand with a deep, tender kiss. It was fully a minute later before she could reply, “I already have.”
Epilogue
London
December 10, 1818
Ethan leaned against the doorjamb, watching Sarah at her dressing table, brushing her hair into a semblance of an elegant chignon. He never tired of observing her at an ordinary task. She was such an extraordinary gift in his life that he needed the occasional reassurance that she was real—and his.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and smiled when she saw him behind her. “Ethan, stop lurking. Should you not be putting the finishing touches on your cravat? We shall be late to Reggie’s supper party.”
“My valet is pressing the folds, and Reggie will wait. He always does,” he said. “Where is Sylvie?”
“I sent her to the kitchen.” She smiled and her eyes sparkled like dew on spring violets when he stepped over the threshold, closed the door and turned key in the lock. In an attempt to divert him, she gestured with her brush to an envelope on her dresser. “You have not told me how you want me to respond to your brother’s invitation. Yea or nay?”
He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I do not care, my love. You choose.”
“Hmm.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Well, Linsday is your brother. But I am still angry over his treatment of you.”
“That’s in the past,” he said, running his index finger down the column of her throat and watching in fascination as little dots firmed beneath the fluid silk of her dressing gown.
“Has he groveled enough?” she asked, a delicate shiver raising tiny chill bumps on her arms. “Despite that he has realized he needs your approval to succeed in society, I frankly think he could do more. I must say, however, that seeing the Lady Amelia making cow eyes at you must humble him considerably. I almost pity him at those times. Oh, very well, then. I shall send our acceptance to his little soiree.”
Saving Sarah Page 27
