Wilhelmina sucked in a breath. It felt like her blood was struggling to squeeze its way through her veins. Also, she feared she might be violently ill at any moment due to the sickening memories swamping her brain. Cloverfield looked too much like his father. She needed to get away from him before she burst into tears, cast up her accounts, or started to scream. None of which would help her situation.
“I am escorting Mrs. Lawson,” Mr. Dale said.
The duke grinned. “I can see that.” His eyes darkened as all signs of humor vanished. “I wish to know why.”
Apparently, he believed impertinence to be his right. Wilhelmina bristled. While it might be best to keep quiet and let Mr. Dale handle the situation, she decided to speak. “He’s a longtime family friend.”
Her intention had been to cement a solid relationship between herself and Mr. Dale in the hope the duke would back off and leave them in peace.
Instead, he responded with a low chuckle – the sort she imagined a murderer might be inclined to produce right before he slashed one’s throat. Her skin pricked on account of the cool sweat sweeping her shoulders. She shivered in response.
“Is he really?” the duke asked. He leaned toward her, infusing every fiber of her being with extreme discomfort. “And how, pray tell, do you reward him for his loyalty, Mrs. Lawson?”
Mr. Dale drew her back a step, pushing her slightly behind him. “You insult us both with your implication.”
The duke did not look the least bit put off by Mr. Dale’s accusation. He merely shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Very well. If you prefer me to speak frankly, then answer me this. Is Mrs. Lawson under your protection, Mr. Dale?”
“Yes.”
Wilhelmina was too shocked to respond in any form whatsoever. Mr. Dale hadn’t hesitated. He’d answered promptly and in so doing, had practically informed the man that she was his mistress.
Cloverfield’s jaw tightened for a moment. He looked on the verge of launching a verbal attack. But then he took a deep breath, straightened, and offered them each a tight smile. “In that case, I do apologize. Considering your renown, Mrs. Lawson, I merely sought to discover if you were available to me or not.”
“She is not,” Mr. Dale reiterated.
“Quite.” Wilhelmina did not care for the pensive look the duke gave her. As if sensing her wariness, he suddenly turned and swept his arm toward the table where the friends he’d arrived with were sitting. “Perhaps you’d care to join us. After all, it’s not every day one has the chance to enjoy the company of a lady who has graced the front page of every paper in the land.”
“Thank you,” Wilhelmina said, “but I’ve had a long day and prefer to retire. Good evening, Your Grace.”
While Cloverfield did not look pleased, he inclined his head and gave a short bow. “Perhaps we’ll meet again in the coming days.” When neither Wilhelmina nor Mr. Dale commented quickly enough, he explained, “My friends and I are bound for the new Earl of Brixton’s estate in Carlisle.”
Wilhelmina could only manage a tight nod. She did not hear what Mr. Dale said since she was too busy considering Carlisle’s proximity to Gretna Greene where they themselves were headed. They’d have to stop twice more along the way, with a good chance of crossing paths with Cloverfield again.
“I despise that man,” Mr. Dale muttered while escorting Wilhelmina upstairs a few moments later. “Sorry for overstepping, but I thought it best for him to believe we’re involved.”
“Well, you are protecting me, in a sense,” she said in a hopeless attempt at levity. “My comment about your being a longtime friend was more of a lie than anything you said.”
“You were wise to say what you did. I just hope it’s enough.” Mr. Dale drew her to a halt in front of her bedchamber door. “Cloverfield strikes me as the sort of man who likes getting his way, and he was very clear about wanting you.”
Wilhelmina shuddered with vile displeasure. “The very idea disgusts me.”
“So I gathered, based on your overall response to him. In spite of his crudeness, your reaction was stronger than what seemed normal. As such, I cannot help but wonder if this is truly the first time you’ve met him.”
“It is.”
Mr. Dale studied her face for a moment, then slowly nodded. “All right, Mrs. Lawson. I suggest you get some sleep. Given this turn of event, I’d like us to leave this place in the morning before Cloverfield rises. Lock your door and rest assured, I will protect you if necessary. Just give me a shout if you need anything.”
The altercation with the duke had clearly made him forget about the proposition she’d made, for which she was grateful. It had been done on a whim, and now that they were at her door, she wasn’t sure she was ready to follow through on her offer.
“Thank you, Mr. Dale.” Without warning, he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her brow before retreating a step. Befuddled, Wilhelmina unlocked her door and entered her room. When she turned, she found him watching her with a new sort of look she couldn’t quite read.
“Good night, Mrs. Lawson.”
She echoed his words and closed the door, shutting out the one man she’d ever wanted to share her bed with. Unsure what her feelings for him were, unable to untangle her desire from the increasing fondness with which he filled her heart, she crossed the floor and started undressing.
Once her clothes were neatly folded and stacked on a chair, she slipped into bed. The glow from the dying flames in the grate provided the room with a cozy feel that eased Wilhelmina’s troubled mind until she finally slept.
Only to be awakened later that night by the touch of a hand.
She did not want to leave her dream-like state where Mr. Dale kissed her with wild abandon. Shifting onto her back, she tried to hold on to the perfect press of his lips against hers and the glorious feel of his body settling against her own. Lord, how she wanted this. Except there was something about it that wasn’t quite right. The fumes of alcohol on his breath didn’t fit the man she’d gotten to know.
“You’re just as willing as I expected,” a low voice purred against the edge of her mouth. Wilhelmina gasped in horror, which only made Cloverfield chuckle. “I see you enjoy my touch.”
His fingers dug into her thigh with bruising force but before she could scream, his mouth covered hers once more. She was fully awake now, fully aware of whom she was with, and it wasn’t the man she wanted. Indeed, this was a nightmare she’d already lived through twenty-one years ago. Back then, she’d been too young, too terrified, and too weak to fight back. This time, however, would not be the same.
With every intention of stopping what Cloverfield planned, she started to struggle. Placing her hands against his chest she attempted to shove him away while trying to roll out from underneath him. It was to no avail. He simply grabbed her arms and, clasping her wrists in one hand, pushed them behind her head where he held them in place.
She kicked and wriggled and silently cried out against the assault on her mouth while he shoved his hand up under her nightgown. Desperate to stop him, she did the only remaining thing she could think of, and bit down hard on his tongue.
A howl of pain accompanied the taste of blood on her lips. She called out for Mr. Dale as loud as she could, barely making herself heard before the duke’s palm connected with her cheek in a stinging blow that vibrated through her skull.