Saving Grace (Fair Cyprians of London 1)

ng into her upper arm as he jerked her away, forcing her head up to look at him.

The astonishment that swept away his arrogance held him frozen with shock, but not for long enough.

Not long enough for her to strike out, struggle from his grasp and make her escape.

Oh no, he was not going to let her go a second time. He was motivated by more than simple desire this time.

No, there was Laurence’s pride. She’d fought against him when he’d first forced himself on her, screaming her disgust. Then it was just the two of them. Now he had David to consider.

“Oh my God, you little slut—it’s you!”

His shocked exclamation was truncated by a burst of laughter as he gave her a little shake to disorient her before holding her away from him, surveying her as a hunter might survey his prey.

“Presented to me on a platter, so to speak.”

The relish in his tone was terrifying. “Dear me, but I did enjoy our last little encounter. I was so disappointed to hear you’d left without a word.”

David put out a hand, his tone bleak. “You know her?”

Laurence jerked her out of reach, his mouth twisted in an ugly smile. “I’ve sampled her wares, yes. Tasty little morsel. I have a mind to have another go. What’s your going rate these days?”

Grace struggled. For a moment she couldn’t speak for the horror that was unfolding around her.

“Get away!” she managed to rasp. “I’d rather die than have you touch me again!” Her voice was rising. She could feel hysteria choking her. Laurence was in control. As he always had been.

David struggled off the edge of the bed and moved forward with grasping fingers; Grace reached out, desperate to be within his protective hold, pleading with his cousin, “Let me go. You have no right to do this. You never had any right. You destroyed—”

Laurence snatched her back to him, clamping his hand roughly across her mouth.

She bit into it sharply and with an oath he loosened his grip enough for Grace to pull away.

She turned, looking wildly for an escape, but Laurence was barring the doorway.

She was trapped. He would have her. Make her pay for belittling him. Then he would humiliate David by forcing himself upon her in this very room. She knew how he worked.

“What the hell!”

She jerked round. David had hurled himself upon the back of his unsuspecting cousin and the two now grappled on the floor, David on top. But a blind man would not hold the advantage for long.

Still, it would allow her time to escape.

Holding the silk dressing-gown about her, she ran towards the door. If she could just get back to Madame Chambon’s she would be safe.

Her hand was already upon the doorknob when she heard David’s cry.

Turning, she saw the determination with which he clung to Laurence, whose flailing fingernails had smeared bloody scratch marks across David’s face.

No, she could not leave him. Not like this.

But what about her? Grace? The hatred in Laurence’s eye should be enough to convince her that he would stop at nothing to satisfy his warped impulses. David was his cousin, his equal in rank. David would be all right.

But she wouldn’t. An inferior from the gutter. Grace had to think of her own safety and there was too much at stake if she stayed.

She registered her expensive ensemble: cuirass and skirt, crumpled beside the chair near where the two men fought, her little veiled hat nearby. A sparkle of silver twinkled in a ray of sun that slanted through the window. She stared at it, confused at first before realising that here lay the answer. Protruding neatly from the brim of her hat.

Rushing forward, she seized the hatpin at the same moment Laurence grasped her ankle.

Oh God, she was going to fall.