Page 49 of The Jilted Duchess
His hand flashed out and caught her by the wrist, pulling her close.
She recalled when Hector had done this same thing—but from him, it had been passionate, not threatening. Panic surged within her.
“Don’t you scream,” Benedict hissed. “You know you can’t save yourself by letting people see you alone with me. You’ll be ruined for that bastard. He’d never touch you.”
Benedict might be right. But Alexandra couldn’t allow him to drag her off. She was filled with horror at the thought of what he might do.
An image came into her head, suddenly. Hector sitting in his study. His face bruised from fighting, his fist swinging at the air—but his arm firm and stable, as if he was delivering an actual blow.
She didn’t stop to think. If she had, fear of what she was doing might have taken her over.
She lashed out and punched him squarely in the side of his face.
She didn’t think she’d hurt him, but she had shocked him enough that he let go of her arm and raised a hand to his face, his eyes wide and blazing. It was the opportunity she needed.
She turned and sprinted toward her carriage.
Penelope was with her father. She would be fine.
Alexandra needed to get out of here before something dreadful happened. She had just barely avoided disaster—but she was sure Benedict wouldn’t give up.
She had to get home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Hector heard the carriage clatter to a stop in front of the house and frowned. It was hours early. It hadn’t been that long since she had left. How could she be back already?
Perhaps the garden party hadn’t been much fun, he reflected. He rose to his feet and went to the window of his study, which overlooked the front of the house. He was hoping to see that her sister was here with her. Even though Hector had no interest in company for his own sake, it would be good if Alexandra had someone to spend the rest of the day with, so she wouldn’t be trying to make time to spend with him.
The first thing that registered was that she was alone, and his heart sank. She would want to see him, then, and he couldn’t deny her—she had every right. Perhaps she had spent enough time thinking about their situation to realize that his instincts were correct and that they should leave one another alone right now.
Then he looked more closely.
Her face was streaked with tears. There was dirt on the hem of her dress. She half-fell from the carriage and set off for the front door of the manor at a stumbling run, and it was obvious to Hector that something was very wrong.
All thought of giving her space fled his mind. He hurried from his study and down to the front door, heart racing, feeling as if he couldn’t get to her soon enough.
He met her at the front door. She looked up at him, shock etched in her features, and pulled away.
Hector wanted nothing more than to collect her into his arms and hold her, to make her feel safe. To make sure that shewassafe. She wasn’t a hysterical woman. If she was acting like this, it was because something had happened to her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
She held up her hands when she spoke, and that was when he saw it—a red mark on her wrist. It looked like the mark of a hand gripping her. He could see the marks of someone’s fingers.
“Who did this?” he asked, his voice low and full of danger. He reached out for her again, and this time, she didn’t pull away.
But her eyes went wide. “Hector, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Daenae apologize to me. Tell me who hurt ye.”
She shook her head. “I—no, it was nothing, I didn’t—everything’s all right. I’m sorry.”
“Alexandra.” He closed the distance between them and laid a hand on her cheek. “Stop apologizin’. Ye did nothin’ wrong. I should be the one apologizin’. I should’ve been there with ye today. Whatever this is, it wouldnae have happened if I’d been with ye.”
“No,” she whispered, and he didn’t know if she meant that he shouldn’t apologize or if she was agreeing that she wouldn’t have been harmed if he’d protected her properly.
Either way, he had never felt more of a failure in all his life.
