Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Evangelina had woken slowly from her haze, trying desperately to pretend like she was still asleep while observing her surroundings. It had been a bit foggy at first, but the memories came back to her quickly, of the man grabbing her, the other drugging her. Now, she was in a carriage being jostled down the road, shoved into a corner with her cheek pressed to cool wood and her body bent at an odd, uncomfortable angle. Her jaw ached from the gag thrust between her lips, and her mouth was dry. Evangelina tested her hands covertly: tied behind her back. Her feet: fastened together at the ankles. Finally, she allowed her eyes to flutter open slightly and discovered she was surrounded by three people. One across from her she quickly recognized as the Earl of Claymore. He was unmistakable, massive and foul, a broken nose and various bruises making his already obtrusive face thoroughly horrifying.

Sitting next to him was a tall, severe woman with a hawk-like nose, fierce eyes, and a bone-thin frame. Evangelina turned her head slightly, trying to better see the man beside her. He was almost certainly one of the men who had grabbed her, and one glance at his face confirmed it. Strong features, a brooding expression, a shock of red hair, the truest auburn she’d ever seen, without a hint of brown or brighter red. Evangelina glanced down at the rest of him. He was massive, likely taller even than the Earl, with hands the size of dinner plates. The man was certainly not spare, but rather lean, all muscle, broad shoulders, and long limbs that he spread out in the coach, encroaching on everyone’s space by the sheer length of him.

“I think our guest is awake,” said the woman, her voice as tight as her manner.

The Earl turned his eyes to her, and Evangelina tried to feign sleep once more. “Magnus, take the gag off her. I want to talk with my welp.”

Evangelina recoiled as the man beside her reached out, her eyes darting up to meet his. His eyes looked almost feline they were so yellow, but they softened a little when they saw her fear. He held up his hands in illustration of no threat, but his hands themselves were very threatening. She remembered the feel of them around her mouth as he pressed the rag against her lips, and it made her stomach turn. She tried to breathe, tried to remember that having the gag out would help, so she let him reach around behind her head and untie it. The scent of him was a strange relief, like a pine forest, in comparison to the pungent scent of the Earl that was like smoke and cologne that he apparently bathed in.

“There,” whispered the man.

Evangelina spat out the gag. Her jaw ached, her lips felt cracked and dry. Her whole body twinged, and she was on the verge of tears yet again, but she refused to yield to them.

“Well child,” said the Earl. “I suggest you do not try to fight, for you shan’t win. I suggest you don’t scream, or we will drug you again. I suggest you comply from here on out and things will go much easier for you. Is that understood?”

Evangelina wanted to fling herself at him, to claw at him even though her hands were tied, even to try and take a chunk of his flesh with her teeth. But she clenched her jaw and managed a nod. More flies with honey, they said, and she was going to have to catch a lot of them if she was going to get out of this. Far better to play along.

“Why?” Evangelina whispered, trying to sound as weak and defeated as she could, which wasn’t difficult when her throat was dry and her mouth parched. “Why have you taken me?”

Information was power, and if she played her role well, she might be able to form a plan with what she could get out of them, as at the moment, she couldn’t even get the door open in order to fling herself, bound hand and foot, from a moving carriage, from which she could not run. So really, there were no options.

The Earl of Claymore smiled. “Well, I suppose there is no harm in your knowing now. I am taking you to Scotland to be married. It will fetch me a tidy sum, and –”

“You cannot do this!” she cried.

The Earl chuckled. “I assure you my dear, I not only can, but am.”

Evangelina huffed. “I mean because I am already married!”

Claymore snorted, sitting back. “That is ridiculous. To whom?”

Evangelina’s lip quivered. The way she had left him made her want to cry, but she said his name with pride. If nothing else, she knew she would always say his name with pride, and that was a great deal.

“Ezekiel Marston.”

The Earl guffawed. “That fop? I doubt a man like him could even consummate a wedding to a woman, if he’d ever be stupid enough to get leg shackled into one.”

Evangelina swallowed uncomfortably. “I’m wearing his ring.”

She squeezed her hand, feeling the ring, the opal, against her flesh as tears welling in her eyes. It wasn’t diamonds, it wasn’t flashy, but it was hers, and it symbolized something holy and true. And yet, hers was a lie.

“A clever ruse, girl,” the Earl snarled. “But I don’t fall for it for a second.”

“But it’s true!” Evangelina whimpered, this time in earnest. “He is my husband, and I his wife.”

The words she’d said to Madame Seraphine earlier that day echoed in her ears. He wasn’t her husband, not really, and they were not all they ought to have been.

“Even if I did believe you,” the Earl shrugged. “It doesn’t change a damn thing. And you’ll cease spreading such falsehoods if you know what’s good for you. Your intended asked for a bride who could pop out a few bairns with aristocratic connections; he did not specify that she had to come with a tongue. Indeed, I suspect I’d be doing him a service if I sliced it out of you.”

Evangelina shrank back in spite of herself, and the man laughed cruelly. She wanted to ask if they would be stopping for the night, but she was petrified.

Hours wore on with little conversation. A few curt words were exchanged between the Earl and who Evangelina assumed was a henchman of some kind. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep again, her mind still fuzzy from the effects of whatever they’d given her, yet she could not relax enough to fall into slumber. Instead, she was plagued by worries. No plans, yet, as she didn’t know where they were or if they would loose her bindings, so all Evangelina had left to her was worry. Did they know she was gone? They had to. Samira would be worried sick, their mother she did not even want to contemplate. And Zeke? What would he be doing? Would he be at home, worrying a hole in the carpet as he paced back and forth? Demanding answers from detectives? Did he think she could be dead? She closed her eyes, wishing him to feel that she was all right. Well, she was not exactly all right, but she was alive and generally unharmed. For the moment, she counted herself entirely lucky to be able to say that.

The night engulfed them as Evangelina stared out the window, hoping, praying, thinking, more practically as the haze wore off. Zeke would know she was gone; how long would it take him to realize she’d been taken? She hoped he knew she never would have just wandered off. It had been horrendously stupid to even step away from Carson, but she had thought the marriage was there to protect her. She thought of how adamant Zeke had been that she keep Carson beside her, even when she was just going to walk in the park. He’d been right, of course, but he’d plainly known something she had not. Evangelina had believed that the marriage would solve her problems; wasn’t that the entire point? Yet Rowan, Samira, Zeke, even her mother, they’d all insisted she keep the protection strong. She’d thought it overzealous caution before, but now she knew they all knew something she hadn’t. They’d expected something like this, more than just treating it as a worst case scenario, and yet they’d played down the likelihood of it in talking to her, the very target of this fearful scheme.

Evangelina tried very hard not to be resentful. It was her own fault she was here, that she’d wanted space and independence. Look where that got her. But they ought to have told her how present the danger still was. She never would have walked away from Carson if she knew it was a very real possibility that the Earl was lurking behind a bush to snatch her. Or at least, his cronies.

“We’re almost there,” said the man beside her.

Magnus, the Earl had called him. If Evangelina was assessing her odds, she bet that he would be the best chance as the person to help her or even let her go. Despite him being the one to have snatched her, he was clearly the least comfortable with the arrangement. The resentment he carried toward the Earl wafted off him like a strong odor, and Evangelina hoped she might be able to use it to her advantage. The woman, she might otherwise have expected, would have some sympathy for another of her sex bound and gagged and kidnapped away from her life, but if the woman felt any such thing, she had not so indicated by word or deed.

The Earl grunted. “Let her free then.”

Evangelina’s heart soared for a moment, but she dashed her hopes herself. They weren’t dragging her through the day at breakneck speed only to let her out on her own. Beside her, Magnus produced a small, wicked looking knife from his boot, the blade glinting in the moonlight. Evangelina sucked in a breath, and the man locked eyes with her.

“For the ropes,” he said as he moved, halfway to crouching on the floor.

Evangelina felt a startled sort of fluttering as he delicately lifted her skirts, barely over her ankles, to expose the ties. He was being careful, brusque, efficient, but the economy of his hands while he worked, deftly slicing the ropes, put her in mind of Zeke’s hands. Her eyes blurred again, and he turned her a bit, taking her hands in his and freeing her there. Her hands were freezing cold, her wrists burned, red rings around them from the rough ropes. She rubbed her hands quickly together, trying to bring back circulation as Magnus replaced the knife in his boot.

“Here,” he said softly, holding out one of his hands palm up.

Evangelina looked at him, bewildered. “What?”

Sighing, he grabbed both her hands and laid them on his own, enclosing them with his other hand atop hers. His hands were massive, both her hands fitting on his, and they were very warm. Evangelina could feel calluses on his fingers, hallmarks of hard work, and it somehow made her feel a bit safer. She didn’t trust this man, couldn’t, but she knew in her depths that he was a far better alternative to the Earl. What she would do with that, she was not yet sure, but it was there all the same.

“She’s fine,” the Earl growled.

“Then wha’ does it matter tae ye if I warm her hands?” Magnus snapped back.

Evangelina couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows. What was the relationship between these men? A servant would never speak to his master in such a way, but the Earl would never order about an equal. She needed a moment alone with Magnus, and perhaps she could exploit the clear tension that was there. The woman was hardest to read of all. She had said not a single word on entirety of the drive, and even as the carriage began to slow, she didn’t speak. She was likely a paid companion, but why?

“Listen to me,” the Earl snapped his fingers at Evangelina, snatching her attention “You don’t say a word about any of this. Keep your mouth shut and your head down. You are my daughter, and I have a right to do with ye as I see fit, aye?”

His accent, apparently, came out when he was worked up. The man went on.

“I’ll gi’e ye a good clot to the heid if ye speak out of turn, and none will move tae stop me, ye ken?” he said.

Evangelina nodded. “Yes.”

She knew she had little chance of escape, even without her bindings. The people would side with an Earl over an hysterical girl; her best chance was to get Magnus’s help to try and let her out in the night so that she could get a head start and to calmly approach a house or an inn, tell them the situation without tears, and hopefully convince them to help. Anything else and she’d be dismissed. And there was, of course, the not impossible chance of leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire. Being trussed up in a carriage on the way to a sham wedding was not ideal, but she was alive and not being actively harmed at the moment. Staying put and waiting for rescue might be the smarter option. Still, she didn’t know if she could do that without even trying for escape.

“Come along,” Magnus hopped out of the carriage and offered his hand to Evangelina.

She took it, and she noticed he kept one of her hands locked with his, the other on the small of her back, guiding her through the yard and to the inn. Evangelina got the distinct impression he was protecting her as much as he was holding her, and her curiosity about this man deepened.

The Earl secured rooms for them in a short exchange with the innkeeper, and Magnus towed Evangelina up the stairs. They walked quickly toward one of the rooms, and Magnus pulled open the door, shutting it abruptly behind him as soon as they stepped inside. She jerked back from him, the abrupt change in his demeanor frightening her more than almost anything had so far.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Any more than you already have?” snapped Evangeliana, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.

He winced. “I am sorry about that.”

She sniffed, furtively glancing around the room to try and assess any means of escape. “Forgive me if I do not take your word for it.”

There was a window at her back, though she was on the second floor she could likely hang out of it and drop without doing much damage, and a twisted ankle was better than being cooped up there. But of course, if she was going to make a run for it, she’d need to have her body as well as it could be. There was the door they had just come through, though she assumed that would be locked or guarded, or both, but if she could find a way out, she could get down unscathed. Perhaps she could even steal a horse from the stables. She assessed the rest of the room, but there was little there at all, and her only two means of escape seemed dubious at best.

Magnus hung his head slightly. Even then, he felt double her size. “I’m yer brother.”

Her jaw slackened. “Excuse me?”

He met her gaze. “The Earl is my father as well. I’m a bastard, too. I dinna want to see any harm come to ye, I swear. I’m sorry at what I’ve already had tae do, but I swear, I will do all I can to keep ye safe.”

“You’re my brother?” she whispered.

Magnus nodded a little. “Apologies it’s under these circumstances we’re meeting.”

Evangelina found herself completely dumbstruck. A brother. Of course she knew that the Earl had other children, but it had never been something she had thought of in a concrete way, that they were people who had their own lives, that she might someday meet them and know them was beyond imagination. Until now.

The door behind them opened and the woman entered. She eyed Magnus momentarily, and he gave her a curt nod.

“I’ll leave the rest to you, Mrs. Jenkins,” he said.

The woman nodded, staring hard at Evangelina as Magnus left the room, shutting the door behind him. Then Mrs. Jenkins locked the door, from this side, which Evangelina noted. If the woman fell asleep, Evangelina could at least unlock the door to try and escape.

“All right. Off with your clothes,” the woman said, her voice high and clear.

Evangelina’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Take off your clothes and give them to me. They’ll be returned to you in the morning before we set off,” she said.

“W-why?” Evangelina’s heart thundered in her ears.

“To make sure you don’t run. We could tie you to the bed as well,” she shrugged, clearly not bothered in the least by giving this order.

Evangelina wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“I can have the Earl come in to make you, but I assure you, his demands will be far less polite than mine,” said Mrs. Jenkins.

That was enough, and Evangelina began to work herself out of her dress. She’d spent her entire life without a maid to help her, but Samira or her mother had always been around. Though thinking of them, of the kindness of her family, was not what she needed at that moment. It was not comforting, but instead painful. Evangelina fought with the buttons long enough that eventually, Mrs. Jenkins heaved a sigh and helped her out of the dress. Once Evangelina stepped out of it, she realized what she wore beneath and attempted to cover herself. She didn’t know why; what did it matter if Mrs. Jenkins saw? But there was embarrassment, still, that burned through her.

Mrs. Jenkins gave her a look of disgust. “Blood always tells.”

Evangelina’s cheeks burned.

“You can keep that on,” the woman scowled. “Would be worse to be trussed up thus and known for the harlot you are than it would be strutting naked through the town square. We all are born to the world naked, but dressed like that, you’ve nowhere to hide from your wantonness.”

Evangelina closed her eyes and the tears fell. She should be happy; at least she was covered somewhat, but she could not find any silver lining in this. A knock came at the door and Evangelina snatched at the bedclothes, covering herself quickly with the stained quilt she tried not to think about. Through blurred eyes, she saw Magnus returned with a tray of food. He barely even spared her a glance, her brother, as he left the supper on the table and retreated.

“Come here girl. Eat,” said Mrs. Jenkins. “His lordship wants you healthy enough to please your new husband when the time comes.”

Evangelina hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so in spite of her trepidations, she managed to choke down a bit of food and watered ale. It sat in her stomach like a rock, but it would at least keep her alive, give her enough strength to escape if she could. Perhaps she could wrap herself in the quilt like a cloak and leave that way? Mrs. Jenkins was right – naked might indeed have been better. In what she was wearing, everyone would make assumptions and dismiss her out of hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to take it off. No matter what it looked like, it was still a small barrier of protection between her and the world.

Forcing another bite into her mouth, Evangelina tried to come up with some plan, but even hopes of her paltry escape idea were dashed when Mrs. Jenkins took the quilt from her and ordered Evangelina to the chair while she herself took the bed. Evangelina curled up in the wingback chair by the fire that barely kept her warm enough, so little did she wear.

“May I please have a blanket?” whispered Evangelina into the middling darkness.

Mrs. Jenkins scoffed. “You’re fine.”

“If I catch a chill, I suspect my new husband won’t be pleased,” Evangelina said. “Pity if he found my head cold too disgusting to want me any longer. How angry would the Earl be then?”

The woman huffed, but Evangelina heard a rustling. A few minutes later, Mrs. Jenkins tossed her a sheet.

“There. Now shut the hell up,” she snapped.

Evangelina wrapped the cloth tight around her and forced her eyes to stay open. She waited for what seemed like hours, as the panic started to set in. What if she couldn’t get out? What if she was never found? What if she was handed off to this man and bound to him forever, forced to be his wife, to give him her body…Evangelina felt like she was going to vomit. Even if Zeke had never touched her like that, she knew to the depths of herself that her body was his, and the idea of any other man touching her like that was untenable. A future where it was not Zeke in her arms, where it was not him who fathered her children, she could not conjure. Yet she might be forced to live such a reality if something didn’t change.

When it felt as though a hand were at her throat, tightening and tightening until she couldn’t breathe, Evangelina forced her mind to stop. She wrenched hard on the wheel of her thoughts and halted the flow. The rush of every worry and fear blocked sharply by the dam in her mind, and Evangelina simply would not let it consume her. She could be afraid later; now, she had actions to do. Finally, Mrs. Jenkins’s breathing seemed to even out. Wetting her lips, Evangelina slipped from the chair and padded across the floor. She cinched the sheet tighter around her body and paused at the door. Reaching out, she turned the lock. The sound was like an explosion in the silence, and she winced. A small snore came from Mrs. Jenkins, and she heaved an immense sigh. Grasping the handle, Evangelina turned the knob so that the door released, but when she tried to push, it didn’t budge. She pushed a little harder, but it didn’t give an inch. Something had to be blocking it. Scowling, Evangelina shut the door again and relocked it.

Turning, Evangelina moved as silently as she could across the room, the sheet dragging on the dirty floor. She probably looked like a ghost, a thought that almost made her smile despite the intensity of the situation. Reaching the window, she clicked the latch open with some difficulty. Apparently, this was not a window regularly in use. Bracing her hands on the crossbeam, Evangelina pushed slightly. She didn’t want to wrench it too hard in case it groaned or creaked in a way that could wake Mrs. Jenkins up. Instead, it didn’t move at all. Just like the door, it gave not an inch. Evangelina pressed harder, and still, nothing. She stepped back slightly, looking at it in bewilderment. Nothing was on the other side holding it down, but still, it didn’t open.

Looking around the outside, Evangelina saw to her utter disappointment that it was painted shut. She cursed silently. She might be able to dig her nail in and release it, but would it even open then?

Mrs. Jenkins murmured and shifted in the bed, and Evangelina scurried back to the chair. She dropped into it, letting her head fall back, hoping Mrs. Jenkins didn’t notice. The woman seemed to still be asleep, but Evangelina’s heart pounded like mad in her chest. There was no escaping this room. Evangelina just had to wait it out until the right opportunity presented itself. And when it did, she would have to trust herself to make the choice and commit. Evangelina squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to try and get some sleep. Whatever was coming, and if she had any chance to get out of it, she was going to need every bit of her strength.