Baron of Blasphemy (Lords of Scandal 12)

“I’m afraid so.” Bash scrubbed his head. “Blasphemy, you are to get a special license and then leave the city with Abigail. Marry as soon as it’s safe.”

Abigail opened her mouth to protest. What happened to her choices? Her terms… “Bash,” she said, a pang of frustration creeping into her voice. Chad had only just conceded to give her choices and time, and now everything had been taken away from her…again. She touched her forehead, feeling the beads of cold sweat slicking her skin.

“A special license? I’m not certain I have that sort of sway.”

“I’ll have the king send word to the archbishop.” Bash didn’t look at her. “Take Vanity with you.”

That was the last straw. Abigail’s hand came to her hip. “You’re sending a rake as a chaperone?”

Bash looked at her then, the corners of his eyes scrunching as though he were in pain. “No, Abigail. As a bodyguard. You don’t need a chaperone with a husband.” He scrubbed his face, his voice dropping. “I’m sorry you don’t have the same choices as your sisters. I really am.”

Tears burned at her eyes, though she refused to shed them. She swallowed several times to work down the lump. “When do we leave?”

“Now,” Bash answered. “Dishonor is afraid if they followed him, they are waiting for all of us. We’re going to separate, slipping into the night and scattering to the four winds.”

“And Infamy? Is he helping in this plan?” He was their last partner at the club.

Bash grimaced. “I’m going to need him to collect your cousin, Avery.”

“Collect Avery?” Abigail asked. “But how could he…”

Bash shook his head. “She’ll not have a choice either.”

Abigail covered her mouth with her hands. Her cousin would have to marry Infamy as well. This was…ridiculous. Poor Avery had already been through enough, daughter to an evil man who never cared for her. “Surely, the danger isn’t that—”

“Your sister has been kidnapped and attacked. Do you want to suffer the same fate, or worse?” Bash barked and then drew in a long breath. “I’m sorry, Abigail. This is the best chance we have of keeping everyone safe.”

Chad lifted her into his arms again. Several onlookers gasped but he paid them no heed. “We’ll leave out the garden gate, hire a hack, send word to Vanity that we’ll be at the Cock and Bull Inn and Tavern on Waverly Street.”

Bash gave a single nod and then, just like that, Chad began to carry her away.

She swore she wouldn’t cry.

But as they disappeared into the darkness, she felt a drop of wetness slide down her cheek. Surely it had begun to rain, but no water hit her hair, or her dress, or even her arm. Only her cheeks seemed to suffer from the weather.

As she dashed the wetness away, she drew in a shuddering breath. How would she prove anything now? Not to them, but to herself?

How would she ever feel she was worth love if she never got the chance to seek it?

* * *

Bloody hell, his stomach tightened into a knot.

Thieves, he could deal with. And kidnappers, he’d mow to the ground. But a crying female…

She dashed the tears from her cheeks as she silently allowed him to carry her off.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Then he stopped. He was the Baron of Blasphemy and damn wasn’t even close to strong enough. “Fuck,” he muttered as they made their way out a back gate in the garden.

Her quiet sniffling stopped. “No wonder they call you Blasphemy.”

He squeezed her a bit tighter. Part of him wanted to say sorry to her. She’d just lost all her choices but somehow the words died on his tongue. They didn’t help.

“Feel free to unleash your own string of curse words. You’ve earned them.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, slumping against him. “I’m not sure cursing will help.”

He grimaced as they made their way toward the front of the palace, toward the street. “I can teach you how to hit. Or fire a pistol. Either one might make you feel better.”