Page 98 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“Stop!” Ewan bellowed fruitlessly.
Gerome glanced back over his shoulder, flashing a cold smile. He knew he would be victorious; it was written all over his twisted features. Ewan could not catch him before he reached the forest, and both of them knew it.
“I said stop!” Ewan cried again, but it was too late. In the blink of an eye, Gerome disappeared into the dense, dark forest, taking Ewan’s hope with him.
Think of her… think of your future together. There will not be one if Gerome is allowed to wander free,he told himself, barreling into the trees. He scraped to a halt in the undergrowth, regaining his breath as he peered into the shadows. Closing his eyes, he let his hearing take over, listening out for the slightest discrepancy in the sounds of the woodland.
When he could hear nothing of note, he began to edge forward into the gloom. An owl screeched in the distance, and he could hear the cries of warring foxes, but he could not pick out the sound of his true enemy. All he could hear close by was the sound of his own breath.
With the roots of the trees snatching at his boots, he kept on moving, his ears pricked for the slightest sound. Every shadow bore Gerome’s face, and every shadow proved to be nothing more than his imagination playing tricks on him.
“Show yourself!” Ewan barked.
Silence followed.
You fooled me, you coward. You came into my home and you threatened my wife. I will punish you for these acts. I will not allow you to get close to her again, you may count on that.
He realized how oblivious he had been, mentioning the plan to the General in Gerome’s company. All his life, he had been taught that staff were to be seen and not heard, and that false education had brought him to this. Gerome had stolen Henrietta’s letters, and he had been the one to deliver those notes—there had been no express rider.Hehad been the express rider.
Not only that, but Gerome had been the one to purchase the tickets for the Autumn Ball. He had known of their exact whereabouts, and what the plan of action was set to be. He had overheard Aaron and his men discussing their positions, and how they would protect the exits. Gerome had known everything, and none of them had realized. Like a snake in the grass, he had crept up on them unawares.
Indeed, Ewan wanted to be angry at Aaron, for it was the General’s fault that this had come to pass. However, he could not find it in his heart. Deep down, he felt a faint flicker of pity for Gerome’s history, but his sorrow did not mean he could cause another’s. Mistakes had been made by all, and he could not see what the outcome would be.
A twig snapped a short distance away. Ewan’s head snapped up, his eyes squinting to get a better look. As he took a small step towards the sound, something hit him hard in the back of the head. He staggered forwards, shaking away the dizziness. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur heading his way.
Waiting until the very last moment, he whirled around and grabbed at Gerome, the two of them sprawling in the dirt and mulch. Gerome was far stronger than he looked, his rage intensifying his power as he wrestled with his former employer. A blow landed on Ewan’s jaw, sending a jolt of pain through his skull. Retaliating, Ewan sent a punch into Gerome’s solar plexus, winding him. The wretch sagged, a groan hissing from his lips.
“You threatened my wife,” Ewan spat, struggling against Gerome as the man knelt on his arms, keeping them down.
“I needed to punish the General for what he did to me,” Gerome shot back, reaching for Ewan’s throat. “As you have taken that opportunity from me, you will have to do. This way, Henrietta will suffer, and she will not forgive her father for the loss of you. It is not quite what I wanted, but it will be good enough.” He squeezed hard, attempting to crush Ewan’s windpipe.
“Henrietta is innocent,” Ewan strained to speak. “You had no right.”
“I had every right. She took my place. She gained his affection, and she did not deserve it. And you—how could you allow her to send such preposterous letters to those establishments? She will only bring shame on your name, as she would have done the Oliver name.”
“You do not know her,” Ewan rasped. His hands scraped along the undergrowth, looking for something he might use to fight back.
“She did look rather beautiful in that gown though, did she not?” Gerome jeered. “How could you not see my deceit? It is pitiful, how ignorant you were of me.”
“Do not speak of her!” Ewan cried out, his hand curling around a rock. With every ounce of strength left, he pushed his left arm up, driving the rock into the side of Gerome’s head. For a moment, he did not move, staring at Ewan with a dazed expression. Indeed, he almost looked surprised.
A split second later, Gerome tumbled to the side. Ewan scrambled to his feet, seizing the opportunity. The deceitful man was still breathing, his chest rising and falling, his blurred eyes staring up at the canopy overhead.
At least I did not kill him, though it would have been no less than he deserved.
“Lord Peterborough!” Aaron’s voice called from beyond the tree-line.
“In here!” Ewan called back, his chest heaving.
Gerome laughed softly. “Perhaps I underestimated you.”
“Perhaps you did,” Ewan replied, removing his cravat. Stalking over to where Gerome lay, he took the man’s hands and bound them tightly. There was no way that Gerome Buffond was escaping his clutches now. No, the only place that this man could look forward to was a dingy gaol, where he would spend the rest of his days.
There was a bitter irony to that, which tugged at Ewan’s empathy—Gerome had started in harsh conditions, and he would end in the same surrounds. He felt sorry for the lonely boy that Gerome had been, but he could not feel sorry for the man who had threatened everything he held dear.
“Is he dead?” Aaron gasped, as he burst through the trees.
Ewan shook his head. “He is not.”
