Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The sound of the door ricocheting off the wall behind it jarred Evangelina from her fitful slumber. She sat upright, then, remembering her lack of clothing, snatched the sheet tighter around her. The Earl stood in the doorway, surveying the room as Mrs. Jenkins hastened to right herself.

“It’s near dawn. We’re leaving as soon as the horses can see the road,” he growled.

“Yes, your lordship,” said Mrs. Jenkins.

The Earl grunted, looking over to Evangelina. She dropped her eyes, wanting to burrow in on herself, to hide from his penetrating, assessing gaze.

“What the hell is she wearing?” demanded the Earl.

“Just a sheet, so she didn’t catch cold,” said Mrs. Jenkins.

Evangelina stole a glance up to the Earl’s face, his eyes narrowed. “Not that. Under it.”

Mrs. Jenkins squared her shoulders. “Remove your sheet, girl.”

“Is this really necessary?” Magnus drawled from over his father’s shoulder. “Isna the indignity enough already?”

The Earl snorted. “She’s a whore’s bastard, boy. She’s got no dignity to offend.”

Evangelina hated that tears welled in her eyes at his words. She willed herself not to cry, not to feel, but everything had been such a complete muddle inside her that she could not let his words bounce off. Evangelina knew she shouldn’t care, that she didn’t, but still, it cut deeper than she could ever say.

“Now,” snapped the Earl.

Evangelina squeezed her eyes shut and released her grasp on the sheet. A moment of silence followed after, and Evangelina dared to open her eyes.

“You should thank God above that I’m making you this marriage child,” said the Earl. “For no man would have such a wanton bitch for a wife if he’d any choice in the matter.”

Tears fell down her cheeks and splashed onto her well-displayed chest. She didn’t dare move; she was utterly petrified. She saw that Magnus had turned his back, and she was grateful she’d been spared that at least, but somehow it made it worse, that he could know her humiliation and do nothing.

“Get that thing off her and burn it,” the Earl instructed. “We don’t need Macrannock questioning her virtue.”

“Yes sir,” said Mrs. Jenkins.

“And don’t give her a sheet next time,” the Earl snapped. “She can’t run if she’s stark naked.”

Magnus turned sharply at that, his jaw clenched tight, avoiding looking directly at Evangelina still. “You don’t want her tied up because it would look conspicuous. You don’t think us stripping a girl and her bed to nothing is equally suspicious?”

The Earl narrowed his eyes. “You want to tie her up so badly then? Really, Magnus, she’s your sister; I know she’s quite pretty, but that’s a bit extreme, even for you.”

Magnus turned on his heels and stalked away as the Earl chuckled. “So touchy, that one. Thank God he was born a bastard; never would have made a good Earl.”

With that, Claymore himself left the room and Evangelina was once more alone with Mrs. Jenkins. Evangelina snatched up the sheet and buried her face in it, trying very hard not to allow her crying to worsen. She felt like a little girl again, hiding from the world, wishing away her ills. In that time, Samira or her mother would have gently tugged the sheet down, kissed the tears from her cheeks, and offered her hot tea, perhaps a biscuit, to make her feel better. Now, Mrs. Jenkins was all she had for comfort, and the woman offered none.

“Enough of that, girl,” snapped Mrs. Jenkins. “Any little tart who would parade around in that sort of attire can’t possibly be embarrassed of a couple of men seeing her in it.”

Mrs. Jenkins yanked away the sheet and ordered Evangelina to strip. Evangelina watched Madame Seraphine’s beautiful creation go up in smoke a few minutes later. It hardly even phased her, her heart already too full of grief to fit any more. It was the death of a version of herself, some proud lady who could seduce a man like Ezekiel Marston. She wasn’t like Samira, who could be fierce and strong and a thief, apparently, who rescued highborn ladies like Callista Marston and wore dangerous, red corsets, seduced Viscounts and then became a Viscountess herself. Samira was a hurricane, a monsoon, a force of nature. And all Evangelina could conjure was the little storm of tears, smaller than raindrops, and soft, hiccoughing sobs instead of thunder.

With Mrs. Jenkins ordering Evangelina about, then jerking her around when Evangelina wasn’t moving fast enough, she was soon dressed, as much as one could be with no undergarments. Mrs. Jenkins marched her down to the carriage, and, just as dawn broke over the horizon, they set off.

“Tie her,” commanded the Earl.

“You do it,” said Magnus flatly.

The Earl gave what could only be described as a growl. “Now.”

“No,” Magnus answered.

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” cried Mrs. Jenkins. “Give me the rope. I’ll do it.”

Evangelina was torn between being grateful that Mrs. Jenkins agreed before there was a fistfight in the carriage that, with such large men, would likely lead to the vehicle toppling over. Then again, if it did, Evangelina would have the chance to leap out and make a run for it. As it was, being tied up again, running was not much of an option. Mrs. Jenkins bent and tied Evangelina’s feet, then her wrists, this time in front of her. That was a boon. If she could even just untie her feet, she could figure out her hands later.

Mrs. Jenkins sat back, and no one spoke again, the two men plainly fuming, and Mrs. Jenkins exasperated. It was the rawest Evangelina had seen any of them, and she wondered if she might use that to her advantage. A few minutes into their silent ride, Magnus passed Evangelina a couple slices of bread, a hunk of cheese, and a bit of cold pheasant. She gave him the closest thing to a smile she’d managed since the previous afternoon, but her faced burned with embarrassment, then anger. Anger at herself for being embarrassed. Why should she be? She was a married lady, and what she wore for her husband was no one’s business but theirs. Of course, Zeke had never gotten the chance to see it, but that hardly made her wanton. Determinedly, Evangelina did not avoid eye contact with anyone. She would hold her head up and show she was not ashamed, whatever they though. She wolfed down the food, realizing how surprisingly hungry she was with all the upheaval around her.

Her mind raced. She had a full belly, her clothes on, and her wrists tied at the front. She tugged a little at the ropes on her feet and found them far looser than the ones Magnus had tied the day before. If she could get a moment where the others were distracted, she could open the carriage door and leap out, provided she was able to get her feet free first. It would be a messy thing, no matter what, but Evangelina was not so foolish as to leap from a moving carriage with no way of landing and no way to run off after. So Evangelina waited, deeply impatient and trying desperately not to show it.

Mrs. Jenkins produced needlework – an impressive thing in a jouncing and jostling carriage. Magnus stared out the window in stony silence. The Earl tipped his head back in slumber. No one seemed to notice as she tried to work her feet free under her skirts, squirming slightly as she did. The Earl moved, shifting positions, and she stilled. Evangelina turned her eyes out toward the landscape that was rushing by. They were still moving at a breakneck pace, and if she leapt from the carriage there was at least some chance she would in fact break her neck.

“Don’t even think about it,” came the rumble of the Earl’s voice.

Evangelina nearly jumped out of her skin. She had thought he was sleeping, but apparently not. It was eerie, that he could read her mind, that just as she’d been wondering how badly it would hurt to leap when going at this pace, wondering if she could get away into the trees and outpace them until she could lose them, he had halted her plans for escape. They weren’t very good plans, Evangelina would be the first to confess, but still, it was eerie.

Evangelina smoothed her hands on her skirts, trying to calm her wild nerves. “Sir, where do we make for?”

He grunted.

Unhelpful. Evangelina worried her lip a moment, and tried another tactic. “Will you give me away at the wedding?”

The Earl turned his eyes on her. “What?”

“It is tradition, is it not, for the father to give away his daughter in holy matrimony to her husband?” Evangelina shivered at the words.

Rowan had escorted her into Zeke’s arms only days before; now, she was kidnapped by the man who ought to have kept her safe, and hurtling toward bigamy.

“Of course not,” he sneered. “This isn’t some fairytale. It’s a business arrangement. It’s not as though you’re my real daughter anyway.”

Evangelina’s jaw slackened. “But I thought–”

“You’re my by-blow,” snapped Claymore. “Nothing more. Your mother wasn’t quick enough about washing herself after I spilled my seed in her so I ended up with her little mud-skinned wretch causing me shame.”

Evangelina hated herself for it, but tears stung her eyes. She wanted not to care – she didn’t – but this was her father, the man who had sired her, and it was worse than when she’d thought he just didn’t care. He hated her. He would use her for what he could get out of her, then he would wash his hands of her and happily never look back. Evangelina supposed she should be grateful that he wanted to return to indifference rather than do worse to her, but still, it shattered something small and precious in her she didn’t know she’d been holding onto.

“Now, shut the hell up before I gag you again,” he threatened. “Men don’t want a chatty wife, so you’d best learn quick to clamp your trap and open your legs, or your new husband won’t be so gentle with you as I am.”

Evangelina burrowed deeper in the seat, squeezing her eyes shut and willing tears not to fall. She had thought, perhaps, she might turn this new ‘husband’ into an ally if he knew she could not be his wife. But if he was as bad as the Earl of Claymore, what might he do when he had her in his clutches?

They’d been off before the dawn with fresh horses after Nathaniel practically pulled Zeke down from Bacchus the night before and forced him to rest.

“You’ll be no good to anyone, least of all your wife, if you’re dead on your feet,” said Nathaniel, which finally convinced Zeke to close his eyes for a few minutes that, he realized when they got ready to ride a few hours later, was actually a large benefit.

As much as Nathaniel Blake rubbed him the wrong way at times, the man knew what he was about in this sort of situation. Zeke had heard of Lord Blake before, but only in the context of his being an absolute and irredeemable rake. His skills pursuing kidnappers was a surprising facet to the man.

They set off, their pace rapid and their energy high. Zeke could feel something like hope blooming in him anew, as though the day had brought fresh excitement and anticipation that they might catch her. They had to catch her. They were of course delayed by having to stop at every place and ask if anyone had seen the people they were looking for, to make sure the kidnappers hadn’t gone off some other direction, but Zeke knew they had to be gaining on the Earl and, more importantly, Evangelina. By midmorning, on the next coaching inn of their journey, they found the first evidence of her.

“Sounds like them,” said the innkeeper after they had slid a gold sovereign to him. “A pretty, dark girl with another lady and a couple of big, Scottish chaps. One was young and the other had a helluva bruise on his face.”

Zeke and Nathaniel exchanged glances.

“Which way did they go?” Zeke asked.

“North, with a fresh team,” said the man. “Left at the crack of dawn in an all-fire hurry.”

Zeke nodded. “The girl, did she look all right?”

The man shrugged. “Didn’t see ‘er much. The younger man, he took her through here real quick like, and then she was up in the room until they left. She didn’t look much about, just kept her eyes down. She looked well enough though.”

Zeke tapped the counter. “Thank you.”

Zeke was filled with new energy, the chance that they were on the right track, getting closer, zipping through his blood like adrenaline. He strode outside with purpose as the first patters of rain hit them.

“They’re making for Gretna all right,” said Lord Sidney Cartwright. “No other reason to stick on this road.”

“There are plenty of other reasons,” Nathaniel amended. “But I wholeheartedly agree that Gretna is the most likely.”

“Should we split up then?” asked Zeke. “Send two of us on ahead to Gretna to make sure that if they do beat us there, someone will at least be there to stop whatever they’re planning? Rather than just chasing them across the countryside, we can get ahead of them.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Indeed. Let’s give it today to see if we can catch them. If we can, I’d rather have the four of us if there’s going to be a confrontation, especially if the Earl has another big man with him. But if not, we’ll send some on ahead.”

Zeke nodded, and, though confident in the plan and remarkably confident in Nathaniel for only having known him a handful of hours, he missed his brother. He even missed his father a little. They would have taken charge, run the whole damn thing, and told everyone, including him, what needed doing. Instead, Zeke was a mess of insecurities, second guessing his every thought and move. This was not like when his father had tossed him into a lake to see if he would learn to swim; no matter how difficult Anselm Marston was at times, he wouldn’t have let his son drown. But here, there was no safety net, no one to rescue Zeke if things went awry. He could get a bullet between the eyes in a very real scenario that had been playing out in his head several times over. Or, worse, he could lose Evangelina. She could vanish into the Highlands, “wed” to another man. She could get caught in the crosshairs and lay dead at his feet. He could simply never see her again, for one reason or another.

All of those possibilities made him want to empty the contents of his stomach. In fact, as Zeke turned from the other men and took a few steps toward the woods, he did just that. It came up in a couple of quick spasms, the dry heaves wracking through his entire body as he tried to spit up the last of anything that remained inside him. Still, his stomach contracted painfully, and he nearly went to his knees, bracing his hand on a tree trunk to keep himself standing.

A hand went to his shoulder and squeezed. “It’ll be all right.”

As the retching subsided, Zeke turned to Nathaniel, standing near with a skin of water in hand.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice croaking slightly as he took the skin from Nathaniel’s hand.

Zeke’s eyes watered as he drank from it, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting onto the ground.

“Sorry,” Zeke said quietly.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Nathaniel shook his head. “You care about your woman. There’s nothing truer to being a man, to being human, than that.”

Zeke nodded. “Thank you.”

Nathaniel clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s ride.”

It was time. If ever there was a moment to try and run, it was this one. The Earl was well and truly asleep, snoring and everything. Mrs. Jenkins was reading from a book so intently that her lips were moving along with the words, and Magnus…well, Evangelina was taking a very large gamble that he wouldn’t be overly quick to leap out of the moving carriage to stop her. Not because he couldn’t – he looked like the sort of man on whom statues of mythical heroes would be based – but because he wouldn’t lift a finger to further her captivity. The animosity between father and son was evident, even in the short period Evangelina had been exposed to the both of them, and she wagered that Magnus would comply, but he would not contribute. At least she hoped. Evangelina thought she could outrun the lumbering Earl or the twiggy Mrs. Jenkins through an unfamiliar forest in the rain. Magnus was another matter.

Evangelina had managed to work her feet free under her skirts, and though her shoes hardly fit for tromping across the wet landscape, she was, at least, shod. Her hands were still tied before her, but when she got to a good hiding place, she could work on getting them free. At the moment, it was less important than her feet as she had to get away as soon as possible and find a good spot to conceal herself. That was, Evangelina knew, her only hope. She would not be able to outlast her pursuers for long, handicapped as she was, so she would have to camouflage herself in the foliage and hope they moved on in time for her to find her way to a farm or inn or some such thing, with people who would help her. If they would help her.

Evangelina glanced out the window. They were nearing a thicket of trees not twenty feet from the road. If she could jump out and get to those trees before anyone had time to truly react, she might have a chance. The moment had come, and Evangelina felt a similar sort of anticipatory thrill that accompanied Zeke’s kisses. They came closer, closer, now!

She grabbed the carriage door and flung herself out, landing hard on legs that crumpled under her. Her hip smashed into the mucky edge of the road, and her arms shot out to keep her head from the dirt. Without even a moment to register the pain radiating up from every place that contacted the earth, Evangelina scrambled to her feet. She heard shouts, but didn’t stop to see the carriage coming to a sharp halt just down the road. Evangelina took off at the most desperate pace she could muster, her bound hands snatching up her mud-caked and quickly rain-soaked skirts. She made it to the trees, dodging this way and that in search of a spot to hide. She ran until her lungs burned, until she heard tromping through the underbrush not far behind her.

Desperation clawed at her, everywhere around looking as the same wall of foliage but nothing proper to hide in. Turning sharply to her right, deeper into the forest, Evangelina skidded down an embankment about five feet to the lower ground. Air rushed from her in a whoosh as he feet came out from under her and she hit the earth once more. She gasped desperately for air, her mind racing, her eyes searching, as voices sounded from so close they might as well have been on top of her. Evangelina forced herself to her feet and scoured the area, spotting a felled tree against some rocks. It was hardly a guarantee, but if there was enough space to secret herself away behind it, it would be perfect. And already she had risked so much, another wager hardly made her balk. Evangelina dropped down, laying herself flat and scooting under the large, heavy tree. In a moment, she was able to wedge herself in, her back against a rock, her front pressed to the dead bark. She began to try and work loose the ties of her hands. And she waited.

And waited. There were no sounds for a while. How long had it been? Three minutes? Five? How long should she wait until they had moved past her so that she could get away? She doubted they would fully give up, so if she waited too long, they might circle back, and that would be just as bad. It was a precarious thing, too early as ill-timed as too late.

Just as Evangelina began considering making a run for it once more, a voice spoke softly and firmly.

"I ken you’re in there."

It was Magnus’s voice. Evangelina’s heart stopped; had she really been so wrong about him? Still, she said nothing. Maybe it was his own ruse and he was trying to see if he could draw her out. She wouldn’t fall for it.

Magnus knocked on the wood of the tree. "Evangelina, there isna any need tae make a game of this."

Evangelina swallowed something that was halfway between a scream and a sob. She hadn’t really thought this would work, but she had to try. While she was planning, it had given her hope. Now, those were dashed.

"Please," the word sounded strange on his voice. "Ye’ll catch yer death out here, cold and wet and alone."

Evangelina was quite aware she was shivering. Her soaked dress, her body wedged against frigid stone, it was hardly ideal, but giving herself up felt like…giving up. There was not much use in stubbornness for stubbornness sake, though. Allowing a few tears to fall, Evangelina mourned this chance at her freedom, but in a moment, she steeled herself once more. As long as there is life, there is hope, Cicero had promised her once, and she chose to believe him. So she yanked closed the valve on her emotions and decided to move.

Just as Evangelina began to work her way out of her hiding spot, the tree that had concealed her was torn back. Lifted clean away from her like a sapling, and she shrieked. Evangelina caught sight of Magnus moving it by one end and heaving the trunk back from the rock. Evngelinaa crouched, slack jawed, at the display.

"Who are you, Samson?" she demanded.

Magnus raked a hand through his thick, russet hair, likely spreading some dirt with the rainwater from his fingers. "I didna think I was so unkempt."

Evangelina wanted to laugh. It was almost laughable, the whole thing. She, little Evangelina Acharya who dreamed of pretty dresses and sweet kisses, had been married off to a man who would not bed her, kidnapped by her absentee father who carried a deep hatred for her because of the color of her skin, and now was being recaptured by her Herculean half-brother after she’d thrown herself from a moving carriage. What kind of ridiculous, farcical, fantastic novel had she stepped into?

"Come on," Magnus extended a hand to her. "Let’s get you warm and dry, aye?"

Evangelina took his hand, solid and surprisingly warm despite the rain, and he pulled her to her feet. Her dress clung to her body; she was cold and aching all over.

"Are ye hurt? A leap from a carriage can do a wee bit o’ damage," he began feeling up and down her arms. She winced a little when he gave an officious pat to her hip. "That where you landed, lass?"

Evangelina nodded.

"If ye can walk, ’tis like as not just a bruise, though I expect ’twill be a nasty one," said Magnus.

Gathering up all her strength, Evangelina gave it one last try.

"Can you please just let me go?" whimpered Evangelina, hoping to play on his sympathies but also utterly exhausted in truth.

"Dinna ask that of me," he shook his head.

"I am your sister," she said softly. "You said…"

All her strength deserted her, and she slumped a little, not quite a faint. Magnus jerked forward, scooping her against him, her body suddenly weightless in his arms even as her feet brushed the ground. He held her closer, his grasp a bit tighter, as he spoke.

"I am sorry, but I cannae," he said softly. "As in danger as ye are wi’ us, ye would be in far worse danger on yer own."

"Come with me then," murmured Evangelina. "Keep me safe and bring me back to London. Viscount Marston is my brother-in-law. He will reward you."

Magnus sighed, shaking his head. "And my father would take the lost income out of my hide."

"But what can he possibly do to you?" Evangelina asked. "You’re grown and strong and capable."

Magnus swallowed at something hard and obtrusive in his throat. "Now isna the time for this. Let’s go."

Evangelina nodded, defeated. She might run, but he would chase her, and the cold and wet had seeped into her bones until it felt as though she would never get warm. In a moment, Magnus slipped out of his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

Evangelina didn’t respond. All she could do was shiver. She knew it was colder in the North than in London, but it shouldn’t have done this to her. She felt as though the light inside her, the fire that kept her warm, the spark of humanity, was dying out.

"Come on then lass," Magnus scooped her up in his arms and held her to his chest as he climbed up the embankment.

Evangelina closed her eyes and stopped paying attention. At some point, she was mildly aware they were out of the trees, rain pattering them harder. She heard the Earl’s voice.

"Wretched little bitch," he snarled. "More effort than she’s worth."

"Let me take her back to London then," said Magnus, the sound of his voice a deep, reassuringly earthen rumble against her ear. "Get her out of your hair."

The Earl snorted. "You’re a bigger idiot than your empty-headed mother, and you haven’t even got her tits to make up for it."

She could feel Magnus’s muscles bunching and coiling at the insult.

"Put the little slut back in the coach," he snapped.

"We need to stop at the next inn," said Magnus as he moved to place Evangelina on the seat, out of the rain.

"We haven’t the time to stop," said the Earl. "And if someone or other is following us–"

"Unless you want her dying of pneumonia, we had best get to an inn and get her a bath," said Magnus gruffly, cutting off the Earl.

The argument went on, but Evangelina drifted slowly away from it. Sleep, sleep sounded better to Evangelina than anything in the world. She gave up trying to listen, and let herself drift off into warm darkness.