“Tell me where the hell she is.” Alexander shouted so loud, soot fluttered down the chimney and landed in the grate. He was tired of waiting, tired of listening. Fear clawed away at his heart, and his head felt thick and heavy.
Elliot stood and stepped forward. “My guess is they’re on their way to Scotland. It is the only logical course of action. Sutherby believes he needs to marry her to get his hands on the money. He must have hired the carriage to take them north and across the border.”
Alexander agreed with his assessment. Sutherby’s only motivation was money, and he was convinced Evelyn was an heiress. But even if Sutherby was foolish enough to stop at a coaching inn, they’d never catch up with him. No
t when their journey would be encumbered by the daylight hours.
A feeling of despair settled around him.
“We’re just wasting time here,” he said. “Let’s —”
“Perhaps you’re mistaken. Henry hasn’t got the money to hire a carriage,” Miss Sutherby interjected. “I’d managed to put some money away, but he didn’t know—”
She stopped abruptly and rushed over to the bed. Using her back, she pushed the frame a few inches and scratched away at the floorboard.
“No!” she cried, opening the small wooden box and finding it empty. With a mournful wail, she tipped it upside down and shook it violently. “I’ll kill him.”
“Perhaps we should take her with us?” Elliot said jerking his head towards the hunched figure on the floor. “We can’t hand her over to the authorities. There’s no evidence she’s committed a crime, and it would only serve to embarrass Miss Bromwell.”
Upon hearing their conversation, she shot to her feet and rushed to Elliot’s side. “Take me with you. I could help you find him. I could act as a decoy. Then I’ll string him up by his fancy cravat and leave him for the crows.”
We may need to drink from her.
Elliot’s words echoed through his mind. He’d rather die than submit to his depravity. He’d made a pact with himself never to drink directly from the source.
Never!
“Take me with you,” she reiterated.
Alexander considered the request. It had taken a tremendous amount of effort to curb his temper. In a state of ravenous hunger, it would be nigh on impossible. Besides, to assist Miss Sutherby in any way would feel like a betrayal.
“We’ll leave her here,” he said firmly. He turned to Miss Sutherby, his tone revealing the anger brimming inside. “If you’ve got any sense you’ll pack your things and be gone by the time we return. If I set eyes on you again, I will not be responsible for my actions. These may be the clothes of a gentleman, but beneath them you’ll find a monster.”
Miss Sutherby put her hand to her mouth and stepped back, her eyes flashing with fear.
Alexander turned and strode to the door. “Come, we should be on our way.”
Once outside, Elliot grabbed his arm. “You’ll not be able to follow on horseback. It’s too far, the risk too great. My carriage is equipped for such eventualities. We won’t need to stop come dawn.”
It was as though giant hands were squeezing all of the air out of his lungs. An image of a golden-haired woman with devil hands flooded his mind. “You … you want me to ride in your carriage?”
“There’s no other way.”
Chapter 22
The familiar sight of Mytton Grange brought memories of Alexander flooding back. That night, when he’d stumbled upon her swimming in the river, when the touch of his hand had sent a rush of longing through her body, that night she’d felt a soul-deep connection that went beyond anything she had ever felt before.
Evelyn knew he could hear her thoughts. Perhaps it was a form of intuition. Perhaps their joining had strengthened the connection, which was why she’d spent the whole journey calling out to him. He would hear her silent plea; she was convinced of it, and so she closed her eyes and conjured a vivid image of her surroundings, infused it with love and passion.
“I never thought we’d get here,” Mr. Sutherby said disturbing her vision. “This windy weather is playing havoc with the roads. It has been the same for more than a week.”
He spoke in his usual affable manner, as though they were a married couple returning home after a long and arduous journey. The illusion was instantly shattered when she glanced down to see his hand still gripping the handle of a hunting knife as it lay in his lap.
He moved his hand to pick up the length of rope at his side, twisting and wrapping it around into a loop before reaching across the carriage to grab her wrist. Evelyn fought him, kicked and struggled. The act was a way of showing her defiance even though she knew her efforts were in vain. She darted for the door, but the cold metal at her throat forced her back into her seat.
“Don’t be like that,” he said, his eyes all soft and angelic as he lowered the blade. “I want you to be happy. I want to see the smile that always warms my heart, the kindness that made me love you.”
He dared to speak of love. After all he’d put her through, the man was quite clearly deranged.