Page 90 of The King's Man
He found Lucy alone, working on embroidery by the window in the parlour. He paused at the door, watching her for a moment. The bitter, angry thoughts seething in his brain, provided a stark contrast to the scene of pleasant, domestic bliss that she presented.
For a moment he hesitated. What if he was mistaken and Lucy was innocent? She looked up, setting her work down in her lap.
‘Where have you been?’ she demanded in a petulant tone, destroying the illusion.
He laid his hat and gloves on the table. ‘That is my concern, Lucy.’
‘I waited up for you till late last night and all today. No word, not even a note.’ She stood to face him.
‘Well, that was foolish. You should know me well enough now to know not to expect such things of me.’
‘You’re here now. That’s all that matters.’ She insinuated her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his, her mouth seeking his …once more his sweet, playful Mouse.
He broke away from her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, revolted by her.
Her eyes narrowed, her brow creasing with distress as she said, ‘Kit, dearest, is something wrong?’ She placed her hands on his chest and smiled a cherubic, wheedling smile that two days ago would have reduced him to clay in her hands. ‘Have I done something to upset you?’
Kit looked at her with disgust, seeing her for what she was: a pretty, spoiled, manipulative little woman who within a few years would lose her teeth and her looks and end up an embittered, ugly hag.
She looked up at him and her eyes widened when she recognised the grim purpose on his face. She played a desperate card, laying her head against his chest.
‘Kit, dearest Kit, you must know I love you.’
He almost laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You mistake lust for love, Lucy. You wouldn’t know what love is. I’ll have my box sent around to my new lodgings. Our little bit of fun is over.’
‘Kit, please … ’ She fell against him, clinging to him, crying soft tears. ‘What have I done for you to treat me so cruelly?’
With a deft movement, he slipped the knife from his sleeve and, seizing her by the shoulder, twisted her away from him. He wrenched one arm up behind her back and held the knife to her throat. She gave a gurgling cry, her eyes bulging with fear.
‘Where is Thamsine Granville?’ he hissed in her ear.
‘I don’t know,’ she spluttered.
‘Yes, you do. Where is she?’
His grip tightened and she let out another cry.
‘It’s no concern of yours!’
‘You’re wrong. It is every concern of mine.’
‘Why?’ Lucy’s tone was defiant through the tears of pain. ‘She’s nothing, a nobody.’
‘I suspect you know that’s not true. What has Morton told you?’
At Morton’s name, Lucy stiffened in his arms. ‘Morton?’
‘I’m no fool, Lucy. I know he’s the one who’s been warming your bed in my absence. Now, where is Thamsine?’
‘I can’t tell you. He’ll hurt me,’ she whined.
Kit twisted her arm higher and she yelped.
‘Like this? Lucy, I’ve no time for games. I am holding a very sharp knife and I am not the most patient of men. Like you, I have little aversion to removing annoying obstacles. The fact you are a woman makes no difference.’
Sweat beaded Lucy’s pretty face. ‘I c-can’t tell you,’ she stammered in one last display of bravado. ‘Kill me, if that’s what you intend!’
Kit sighed and shifted his grip on the knife, laying it against her nose. ‘You’re wrong, Lucy. I don’t intend to kill you, but I can cause you a great deal of pain before I leave you hideously scarred. You will find it hard to woo bed-mates with the mark of the whore on your face. Now, are you going to deal with this sensibly?’
