Page 96 of A Scandalous Bargain
“Thief!”
Beatrix squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t turn. Her heart thudded, and sweat broke out across her neck and brow. Trying to remain calm, she reached into her right pocket and removed the real jewels. “Here they are. There’s no theft.” She set the jewelry into the box, her hands shaking.
“Which maid are you? That new girl in the scullery?” The man—presumably the duke’s valet—grabbed her by the arm.
She reached for the broom and jabbed him in the stomach with the handle. Yowling with pain, he bent over. But Beatrix didn’t wait to see what happened. She dropped the broom and bolted for the door to the back stairs. She didn’t bother to close it behind her before racing down.
By the time she reached the kitchen level, she was panting heavily. She’d heard shouting but hadn’t been able to make out what it was. If she made it out of the house, it would be a miracle.
She glanced toward the kitchen before dashing forward into the corridor—and straight into a hard chest.
Out of breath, Beatrix looked up into the dark, narrowed eyes of what was probably a footman, judging from his livery. “I was just about to run an errand,” she said. “We need…salt.”
The footman didn’t believe her obvious lie. His gaze slitted further, and he grabbed her by the arm. “Upstairs with you.”
Beatrix tried to pull away, but it was no use. The man was a bloody tree.
It seemed she was out of miracles.
He steered her back to the stairs she’d just come down, then up to the ground floor, following close behind her and keeping a tight grip on her elbow. Reaching around her, he opened the door and awkwardly pushed her into the staircase hall. They emerged from under the stairs and came face-to-face with her father’s haughty butler.
Behind him stood the valet, one hand wrapped around his middle, his frame slightly stooped. “That’s her, the chit who jabbed me with the broom and stole His Grace’s jewels.”
The butler regarded Beatrix with unveiled contempt. “I know you. You’re that insolent woman who dared visit His Grace recently.”
Damn, it was too much to hope that he wouldn’t recognize her. Instead of answering, she lifted her chin and gave him her own most arrogant stare.
“I’ve already sent for His Grace,” the butler said. “We will await him in the sword room.”
The what?
The footman began to pull her, but she dug her feet into the floor. “Please let go of me. I don’t require your assistance.”
“If you run, he will do whatever is necessary to catch you,” the butler said frostily. “Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.” Beatrix pursed her lips and continued to stare at him defiantly.
The footman released her, and she immediately massaged her elbow.
“Follow me,” the butler directed before leading her into the round entry hall. He turned to the left and gestured for her to precede him into a room decorated with…swords.
“We’ll wait here for His Grace.” The butler took a position at the door, and the footman stood on the other side.
Beatrix went to the window because it was as far away as she could get from them. She could also see the front of Tom’s house. What would he say when he learned she’d been arrested?
The reality of her situation made everything go fuzzy around her for a moment, as if she’d fallen into water. She gasped, taking air into her lungs.
Perhaps the duke wouldn’t want to prosecute her. She’d returned the demi-parure, after all. And she’d promise to leave him alone forever.
Of course he was going to prosecute her. There wasn’t really a doubt in her mind. Would her half brother help?
Her thoughts came to a crashing halt as she saw Tom walk down the steps of his house. He was in the company of three men. One of them, a slender gentleman with black-and-gray hair, seemed very familiar. She was sure she’d seen him, but where?
At the Brown Bear across from the Bow Street Magistrates’ Court where she and Selina had met Harry one day. The man was a Bow Street constable.
And Tom was leaving with them.
Beatrix spun from the window and rushed toward the doorway. Both the butler and footman stepped in her way.
