Page 130 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
Whatever Bella might say, it was men who ruled the world. Men such as Andrew, who, now he’d been elevated to the aristocracy, must have set aside his misgivings about adhering to the traditions of Society. Had he not inherited the viscountcy, he might have deemed her worthy of his notice. But now…
No viscount who didn’t wish to be a pariah among Society would want to associate himself with her, let alone marry her. She would have to watch, from a distance, while he courted somerespectable young woman. He would be a happier—and a better—man without her.
And Gabriel…
Her sweet, sweet boy, the innocent soul she had brought into the world through her own sins—her pride, greed, and envy, which had driven her to offer herself like a harlot.
Gabriel was far happier now than he had ever been—surrounded by people who loved him. He would also be a happier boy—and would grow to be a happier and better man—without the ruined woman who’d birthed him.
She slowed her pace, her breath misting in the night air, then glanced through the trees back toward the house. Its occupants would be sitting down to dinner now—dinner and gossip.
And what gossip there was to be had! She, the poor, wanton wastrel, the victim of her own jealousy and spite, whom Lady Arabella had taken in out of charity. How they must be laughing at her out of contempt and pity, reveling in their superiority…
And congratulating the newly anointed viscount on his lucky escape.
Silhouetted against the sky, the building’s dark form rose above the horizon. A row of illuminated windows glared out into the night, almost as if they were eyes—watching her, judging her.
Condemning her.
The lights flickered, and she turned and resumed her flight, taking the path into the forest, where the malevolent lights would soon be out of sight and she would be free of them. The shadows deepened as the path grew narrower, until she could no longer discern the ground.
Then a low snarl filled the air ahead.
She glanced backward again, but the house was no longer visible. The lights had winked out.
The snarl came again, and she froze, her heart hammering at her chest.
What was it?
She paused, but the only sound was the soft hush of the breeze through the trees.
Then the skin on the back of her neck tightened as the sound of a twig snapping cut through the air. Two pinpricks of light appeared in the darkness ahead. A low growl sounded, and the lights blinked, turning a pale green.
She stepped off the path and slipped between the trees. A ghostly white form appeared in the air ahead, and she let out a scream that echoed through the forest. A high-pitched screech answered from behind, and fear coiled inside her body as the call of the night hunters filled the air.
The predators had surrounded her, beasts and otherworldly creatures alike.
Then a deep growl filled the air—low and sorrowful, until she could discern a name.
Juliette…
With a cry of terror, she broke into a run, stumbling through the undergrowth, ignoring the slashes of pain as the brambles tore at her skirts. Her foot caught on something and she tripped forward, reaching out to grasp a low-hanging branch, but she missed and crashed to the ground with a jolt. Tears stinging her eyes, she struggled to her feet, wincing at the spike of pain in her palm as she pushed herself upright.
She took a step forward and cried out at the burst of pain in her ankle. The wind whistled through the trees ahead, swirling into a roar, echoing her cries, mocking her terror.
She must get back to the path. But where was it? She stopped and looked around, but there was no sign of it—only the blurred shapes of the tree trunks fading into the distance with the deep darkness between them.
What lay in the darkness? Retribution, perhaps? Punishment for her sins?
Another howl joined the wind, and she limped forward. Her skirts snagged on the undergrowth, and she struggled to maintain her balance, wincing as the pain in her ankle throbbed with each step.
She tripped again and fell against a tree trunk. She clung to it, seeking comfort in its solidity, shaking with sobs.
What a fool I am!
Then she heard it—a faint rustle, its very quietness sending more terror through her soul than any roar.
It was a footstep. A deliberate footstep, nearby. Something was tracking her.
