The Undoing of a Libertine (Somerset Historicals 2)

“Suddenly, I feel the need for a companion on my trip abroad.” He leaned into Gina’s ear. “What do you say, little puss? Shall you come with me? I promise to fuck better than him.”

“Nooooo,” Gina sobbed, succumbing to panic. She struggled, realizing he intended to take her, until he pressed the knife in a little farther, her skin rising up on either side of the blade from the pressure.

“Gina, be still, sweetheart! You’ll be all right.” Jeremy held on to his composure, the instinctive part of his brain taking over, understanding that rash action on his part would only serve to get her throat slashed.

“Don’t do this, Strawnly. It’s madness to try and abduct her. Let her walk away.” He spoke in a dead calm to the demented Strawnly, attempting to impart some reason through the fog of insanity the man was cloaked in. “If you want ransom, take me instead and let my wife free.”

“Ah, but, Greymont, it’s not you I wish to fuck.”

“Strawnly, that definitely won’t be happ—” In the next moment, the street urchin, Danny, came around the corner. He treaded silently, walking slowly up behind at Strawnly’s shoulder. Jeremy met Danny’s eyes, and Strawnly sensed the change.

Strawnly turned back to find Danny, and the intrusion unsettled the balance of power just enough to give advantage. “Be gone, boy. This has naught to do with you!” Strawnly barked. He must have loosened his grip on Gina when he turned because she took the opening to struggle anew, twisting back from the knife.

Opportunity must strike when the moment is right, and though Frisk was not a human, he seized his opportunity just as astutely as if he were one, choosing just the best instant to serve his mistress. He shot out in a furious ball of flying fur and sank his adolescent canines deep into the back of Strawnly’s calf.

Strawnly cursed, buckling at the knee. To fight off Frisk, he had to let his hands go, and Gina dropped to the ground as she fell from his grip.

Danny jumped into the fray, wrenching Gina out of the mess, and Jeremy lunged for Strawnly. He was not completely conscious of what he did. A burning sting kicked him in the ribs, but he ignored it. Strawnly’s neck felt real good underneath his hands as he squeezed. In a mindless rage, killing this monster was all Jeremy could care about. “This is for what you did to her,” he gritted out.

Strawnly still had his knife though, and with the strength of the truly mad, he lifted it to strike at Jeremy’s head. Jeremy ducked to the side in the last second, saving his skull, but the blade of the knife went into his shoulder. White hot pain razed down through to his muscle. Cursing, he lost his grip on Strawnly’s neck.

Jeremy sank to the ground and clutched his shoulder, watching as Strawnly scrambled back toward the hack, kicking his leg out in vicious jerks. Frisk came away, flew about five feet, and landed with a yelp at Jeremy’s knees.

“Go!” Strawnly screamed at the driver, flashing the bloody knife. The driver didn’t need further motivation. The hack engaged the second the whip was cracked over the horse’s flank. Away it clattered, somewhere into the dark London streets, its depraved passenger escaping the retribution he was most definitely due.

Strawnly’s madness revealed only more certain from the cackling laugh that punctured out of the hack, its evil rumble causing all who heard it to shudder. The vile noise violated the very air of an otherwise lovely, moonlit night.

Chapter Thirty-One

None are so desolate but something dear,

Dearer than self, possesses or possessed

A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.

—Lord Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage (1812)

The Hallborough coach was full to bursting, probably never having had quite such an assemblage before. Jeremy, Georgina, Jane, Therese, and the valiant Frisk were contained within, while Danny and Luc rode pillion with Ned. They were en route to collect one more, as Danny directed Ned to the place where Marguerite had been kept against her will for four days. Or at least this was the gist of what Georgina was able to make out. Georgina had spoken very little, couldn’t really indulge in conversation quite yet, the shock of what had just happened still ruling her.

Jeremy was also quiet but held her tight to his right side, his grip fierce for a man who’d just been stabbed in the left shoulder. She could feel the deep breathing moving his chest and the thump of his heart, so very grateful his wound was not life-threatening. His head turned away from his injury and rested on top of her head.

The coach pulled to a stop. Jeremy disengaged from her and stepped out. “Do not get out of this coach for any reason. Stay. In. Here.” His voice was harsh, angry in a way she’d never heard in him before. “Do you understand me?” he rasped, his eyes narrowed, his frown just as hard as his voice.

“Yes,” she choked out, vowing she’d never disobey him again as long as she lived.

“Let’s go get her,” he said to Luc and Danny, the three of them taking to the back entrance.

Therese looked at Georgina sadly. “The world can be so cruel sometimes, but you should try to find the good wherever you can. Your husband loves you, Mrs. Greymont.”

“And I love him.” Georgina nodded, a sob escaping from deep in her chest. Frisk crawled into her lap, as if sensing her pain. She buried her face in his warm fur and shuddered to think where she might be right now if not for him.

“Thank you, Frisk, for saving me,” she whispered. She turned to Jane and asked, “How did he—”

“He was frantic to go to you, Mrs. Greymont. The whole time, he scratched at the door like a wild thing. I popped the latch, and out he went.”

The sounds of the men returning, low and hushed, interrupted the conversation. “We’re going to need the room in here so I can hold her,” Luc said, his deep voice tremulous.

“Jane, will you ride outside with Ned?” Jeremy asked her, his voice low and clipped.