Page 34 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

“Not exactly, but I’m working on it.”

She gulped. “How comforting.”

“Don’t give up hope, sweetheart,” Brandon said softly. “We are not lost yet.”

“No, I suppose not… Brandon, please don’t call me sweetheart.” She feared it might render her completely undone.

“We have been in this position for some hours now,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Have I given you any reason to suspect me of taking advantage?”

She didn’t fear him taking advantage, she feared she would cling to him too much. What was that saying from Shakespeare’s Macbeth? But screw your courage to the sticking-place. “You have been called a rake,” she accused.

“A label bandied about far too loosely in my opinion. I believe my actions speak louder than words.”

“Well, you are a man,” she pointed out, warming to her theme.

“So, I am damned by my sex. No man, in your estimation, is worthy of higher thoughts whilst in this position.”

“Not many, I imagine. But my Uncle Alford certainly.” She gasped. “Oh, poor Uncle! And Aunt Edith! They will be so upset. I suppose they will bury me in the Hawkshead Village churchyard. I shall have a fine eulogy at least.”

Brandon chuckled. “You’re a game one, Letty.”

“Am I?” She sniffed, wishing she had a handkerchief and the wherewithal to wipe her nose. “I don’t feel very brave.”

The horses slowed. The carriage proceeded between a pair of tall gateposts. “Quiet now,” Brandon said in a steely tone. “Let me do the talking.”

Letty felt hot and cold at once. She shivered as the carriage rattled along at a smart pace through an avenue of trees. They came to a turning circle where a large building loomed, ghostly in the moonlight. A few candles were alight in the lower floors. The carriage didn’t stop; it swept around the mansion and pulled up at the stables.

Brandon tensed when the same ruffian who had seen to the change of horses, appeared. But this time, he had an armed accomplice. He opened the carriage door and climbed inside. Looming over them, he held up a knife.

Letty squealed.

“No funny business,” he growled. “Hold out yer hands.”

“For God’s sake, be careful.” Brandon watched in trepidation as the evil smelling ruffian’s knife sliced through the ropes. “You will annoy your bosses should you cut us.”

“Don’t be so sure.” He continued to saw through the tight twine, coming perilously close to bare skin.

The ropes fell away. Letty sat up with a whimper and rubbed her wrists.

Brandon seethed with fury at the sight of her delicate skin rubbed raw. He clamped his teeth. This was no place for emotion. Ordinarily, he was good at remaining calm and thinking clearly

under duress; it would have been far easier alone. He’d never had a young woman depending on him. It changed the game considerably. Any thoughts of overpowering these rogues became an insurmountable risk. Although he doubted these two had a decent brain between them, they were probably endowed with a good deal of animal cunning.

The ruffian Brandon longed to take his fists to, climbed out of the carriage. He stood beside the door and gestured with his pistol. “Out. And no tricks, or I’ll shoot.”

Brandon helped Letty down from the coach. He urged himself to be patient. It would be too risky to try to escape now. He could take one of them down easily enough, but the other might shoot Letty. The four men would be waiting inside the house. They’d be highly nervous; their plans having gone awry. They would want their questions answered. It was a weakness he intended to exploit.

One of the rogues prodded Brandon in the back with his gun. “Move. To the ’ouse. And no funny business.”

Brandon took a firm hold of Letty’s arm after she stumbled, her muscles most likely stiff after the long, cramped journey. The servant’s quarters lay in darkness. He and Letty were urged along the drive to the southern front of the big house where the front hall, and a window on the floor above, were now illuminated by candles. So his guess was correct. An interrogation awaited them. He doubted these two would be invited into the room. That might give him and Letty a better chance.

“Follow my lead,” he murmured to Letty.

Her eyes anxious, she nodded.

They climbed the steps of the brick mansion to the entrance, the windows along the front shuttered. One of the heavy oak doors stood open, spilling candlelight onto the porch. Inside, the entry hall was lit by wall sconces. There was no sign of servants as they were pushed up the staircase.

The rogue’s pistol still at his back, they entered a drawing room where a fire burned in the marble fireplace. The four men stood around it with glasses of wine.

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