Page 80 of Dangerous Exile

“I heard you, dear.” She clucked her tongue. “You pushed. So now you are here. But that is where I miscalculated and underestimated what Conner was willing to do for you. I thought it merely lust between you two. But now I don’t think that merely removing you from his life is enough. I thought it would be. You would be out of sight, out of mind. He would go back to London, forgetting you, forgetting he ever stepped foot into Washburn. I thought your father could take you and that would be the end of it. You would be gone.”

Her thin wrinkled lips pulled inward as she shook her head. “But now I fear that is not to be. Connor is now insistent on getting you back and taking the title to that end. I don’t think he will let it be and he will overturn every stone to find you—including a visit to your father.”

Upright, Ness could see the whole of her surroundings. A small cottage, dark. Only three windows that were skinny and high in the walls, letting in just enough light to see the interior. One small table with a black iron pot atop it. Two chairs. The bench she was sitting upon.

Mounting fear in her chest started to war with a panicked calm—both attempting to take over her emotions.

The dowager couldn’t have possibly brought her here, could she?

She looked to Lady Washburn. “Where are we?”

The dowager patted her knee. “Nowhere important, dear.”

Ness’s lips parted so she could draw more air into her lungs as she stared at the woman in front of her. Such a kind face.

But a madwoman.

There wasn’t any denying it. She’d been bound up. Set in this hovel. And the only one in front of her was Lady Washburn.

Reality was her only ally in this situation.

The sooner she accepted the fact the dowager was not her friend, not kindly—that the madwoman had intentionally dragged her here and tied her up—the better off she would be.

Ness glanced down at her bound wrists again. Fat rope. Talen had tied her up several times to teach her how to loosen the knots enough to free herself. With enough time, she could get out of the rope. She just needed time.

Hard won, the panicked calm took over. Talen would be proud of her.

Shifting her hands out of view under the table, her wrists started to work back and forth as her look lifted, her eyes narrowing at the dowager. “So, what do you propose to do with me?”

The dowager turned away from her and moved to the small square table by the hearth. She picked up the table, balancing a teapot and teacup atop it, and came back to Ness, setting the table down directly in front of her.

The dowager picked up the pot and poured what looked like tea into the delicate teacup. She set the pot down and nudged the cup closer to Ness, then stood straight, her hands folding in front of her grey cloak.

Ness looked to the table. The teacup sat in its bright white splendor, the prettiest painted blue bells lining the lower half of it.

Gorgeous destruction.

Ness’s glare lifted, skewering the dowager.

She smiled at Ness. The same vacant smile that had been in her face when they had first met. A smile that somehow now managed to look both idiotic and sinister all at once. “Please, dear, just drink the tea.”

“The last time I drank the tea, I faded into blackness and then woke up in here.” Ness let every ounce of bitterness she was feeling lace her words. The damned woman was about to find out she wasn’t going down without a fight.

The dowager’s lips pulled tight, the hard glint in her eyes not shifting. She looked pointedly to the tea.

“What was in it last night? Laudanum?”

“Just drink the tea, dear Nessia. It will be easier for all parties involved. Cleaner. Less dramatic. Less fear. Less pain. Just quiet. Just slipping into darkness.”

Ness scoffed a laugh as her hands started to work harder at the rope binding them. “You wish me to die quietly?”

The dowager took a heaving sigh and her hand dipped between the front folds of her cloak. She fished into an interior pocket for an extraordinary amount of time before pulling free something silver.

A pistol.

A bloody pistol, the elaborate etched scrolling motif along the silver barrel showing it was one of a fine dueling set.

She didn’t actually know how to use it, did she?

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