Page 41 of Freeing Hook

The words are too familiar. As if I’ve uttered them before. “I’ll be good.”

Vulcan leavesme with the servant Boris, insistent that he dress me more appropriately. Apparently he’s hosting an all-night revelry at his manor and I’m to be in attendance—to be presented, I imagine—and the journey is without an adequate place to stop and prepare me beforehand.

The result is that Boris and Zane have to pull a double shift just to fix me up. It’s a humiliating process. My sodden clothes are ripped from my body like they’re cobwebs from the doorway of a treasure trove. Though the only touching the two men do is to bathe me, there’s a vulnerability about it, being unable to move, that makes me want to scream. When they’re not looking, I test out different muscles, seeing which ones will move. So far, all my fingers are functional, and my left wrist, along with my ankles and toes. It’s not much to work with, but it’s better than nothing.

Once the two men have dressed me in a fine silk gown Vulcan brought in case their given attire didn’t suit—apparently it didn’t—I decide to take a gamble, figuring once they have me inside the man’s carriage, the chances of escape will be minimal.

“Please. Please don’t sell me to him,” I whisper. “Anyone else.”

I try to squeeze tears out of my eyes, but I’m either too numb or too buzzing with adrenaline to cry at the moment.

Zane scoffs, but Boris offers me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “It’ll be alright, missus. You’re one of the lucky ones. He won’t hurt you.”

I don’t bother explaining to him how his definition of hurt is rather narrow.

“Please. Please, I don’t want to go with him. The things he said he’d do to me. Just send me with someone else, please. Even if they hit me, I don’t mind. Don’t make me go with someone so vile, who’s going to make me…” I trail off at just the right time, then start wailing. “Please, I just wanted to be a wife.”

Boris’s eyes go wide, and he exchanges a look with Zane, who looks about ready to roll his eyes. “Naïve aristocrat,” Zane mumbles under his breath, as if he thinks I can’t hear him.

“It’s not her fault her parents didn’t tell her how babies were made,” says Boris, but Zane appears unaffected.

“Please,” I cry again.

“Sorry, little lady,” says Boris. “I’m afraid payment has already been exchanged.”

I let my face fall, like I’ve been struck. “Can’t you just give it back? Surely there’s someone else who would pay you more.”

Zane snorts. “Your buyer’s the best-paying man in the kingdom.”

“I thought you said he underpays,” I say, sniffling. “I thought you said it wasn’t going to be enough to cover the lamps.”

Zane’s face goes hard. “Mind your own business, or you’ll get yourself into trouble where you’re going.”

A lump forms in my throat, so I let myself sob. This next part is going to be tricky. I need to be what Zane wants, while also getting him to believe that my plan was his idea all along.

“I’ll run away,” I threaten. “I’ll run away, and then he’ll blame you.”

Zane rolls his eyes. “That’s not how this works, child. Once money has changed hands and you’re in his possession, you’re his responsibility, not ours.”

Boris ruffles his brow. “It would only hurt you to run away, missus. I’m telling you, Vulcan’s the kindest master you’re going to get. In a city like this, you’ll just be plucked off the streets by someone less generous. Other places won’t give you to a good home, just chain you to the bed. Or sell you to a foreigner where you can’t be traced. You don’t want to be sold again.”

I let out a shuddering sigh, but allow myself one peek at Zane. Something has kindled in his expression, his interest clearly piqued by the servant’s last statement.

Sold again.

Excitement swells in my heart, making it hammer against my chest. It’s a long shot that the master will take my bait, even less chance that the plan will actually work. But men drowningin debt have a tendency to put on blinders and do anything they can to get out of it, so if I’m right…

When they finish dressing me, the master dismisses his servant from the room, his beady eyes still examining me, a scheme playing out in his head.

One that I put there.

CHAPTER 16

WENDY

The buyer is stroking my cheek, planting a wet kiss on the corner of my quivering lips, when something crashes into the carriage.

My body goes flying into the roof, tumbling as the carriage rolls over. Pain pounds my limbs as the carriage rattles me, shaking me like Michael does his hands when he’s excited or frightened. When the carriage finally comes to a rest, it takes me a moment to take in my surroundings.

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