She began to make her way up, tossing her reply over her shoulder. “No, thank you. As I have said, I shall shriek for you if you are needed.”
But the higher she went, the more she wondered if she might have felt calmer with him at her side. He might have hurt her, that was true, but he was far taller, broader, and more muscular than she was, so if it became a battle of brute strength instead of wills, she could see her chances of success dwindling.
He is right there, and they cannot escape any other way, unless they are foolish enough to try and jump from the windows. If it doesbecome a battle of brute strength, he will come running, just as he promised.
That soothed her as she reached the landing and duly turned right, finding herself in a very narrow hallway.
The door was right ahead of her. Second to last. She did not hesitate.
With all her might, she threw open the door and marched inside… to find a scene that horrified her more than anything she might have expected.
“Phoebe?” Ellen’s voice trembled from the corner of the room, where she stood with a candlestick in her shaky hand, wielding it like a blade. The sleeve of her dress—a dress Phoebe had purchased for her not long ago—was torn. And she was pale and frightened, her eyes wild.
Yet, it was not because of Phoebe’s sudden entrance. That much was obvious.
The Baron of Harburgh stood a few paces from Ellen, his back to Phoebe. He wore his shirt untucked, in a state of undress that was clearly unwelcome to Ellen. The brandished candlestick was not poised to attack an intruder, but Jacob himself.
“Get away from her!” Phoebe barked, her hands curling into fists.
Jacob whirled around, his eyes dark with fury. “Well, if this is not some frustrating jest from the heavens above, I do not know what is.” He sneered. “Leave this room, Miss Wilson, before I remove you from it myself. You are not welcome here.”
“Nor are you, if my eyes are any judge,” Phoebe shot back. “Step away from her. I am quite serious when I say that I will do whatever it takes to bring my sister home, unscathed and un-scandalized.”
Jacob sniffed, smirking. “I think you mean my wife.”
“Hardly, when you are still countless miles away from Gretna Green.” Phoebe stepped forward. “Ellen, come to me.”
Jacob glared at Ellen. “Do not move. You are not toying with me like this. You have sworn to be mine, and I do not relinquish what is mine.”
“Has he hurt you?” Phoebe ignored the beast altogether, concentrating on Ellen.
The younger woman shook her head.
“Has he…harmedyou?” Phoebe hoped her sister would understand her meaning.
Ellen shook her head a second time.
“Did he try to…” Anger simmered in Phoebe’s chest, ready to boil over.
Ellen gave the smallest nod, and it took every shred of willpower that Phoebe possessed not to grab the nearest object and launch it at Jacob’s head. A rage unlike anything Phoebe had ever experienced pummeled through her veins in a ferocious torrent, her breaths quickening, her heart racing, her entire body ablaze with it.
“A mere game,” Jacob replied, shrugging. “I am an honest gentleman. I would have waited until our wedding night. Flirtation between two people in love is no vile thing, Miss Wilson. Do not twist this into something it is not.”
Phoebe strode forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with him. She stretched out her hand. “Ellen, come to me.” She glowered at him. “And if you lay a single finger on her as she does so, I shall reveal to you a world of pain that you are not prepared for.”
Long ago, her mother had taught her the best way to defend herself against any man who made unwelcome advances. Phoebe had never forgotten. She braced her foot against the floorboards, her knee ready to strike where it would hurt beyond measure.
Ellen slowly began to make her way toward her sister’s outstretched hand, lowering the candlestick as she did. But just as she was about to pass Jacob, his arm shot out, and he pushed her backward. She stumbled, grabbing onto a nearby chest of drawers to stop herself from falling. A porcelain mushroom rocked back and forth, perilously close to the lip of the tall chest, and though Phoebe willed it to fall and smash, alerting Daniel downstairs, it did not topple.
“No spinster will come into my private chambers and tell me what to do, nor will any beloved of mine disobey me,” Jacob hissed. “She is mine. She has pledged her loyalty to me. And you and I both know that she cannot emerge from this unscathed and un-scandalized, as you called it, without marrying me. So, leave before you ruin her life.”
“I do not take orders from slimy, little weasels,” Phoebe retorted. “Do not forget that you have a wretched reputation, Lord Harburgh. Who will the people believe if a story reaches the scandal sheets that you kidnapped my dear sister, and though you tried your best to steal her, she was rescued in time?”
A flicker of doubt passed across Jacob’s face. “I may have a reputation, but your sister will have no reputation whatsoever, even if you were to sell such lies to the scandal sheets. No decent gentleman would believe that she escaped with her innocence. No decent gentleman will want her ever again.” He grinned. “It is me or no one. And it is all your fault.”
“I beg your pardon?” Phoebe seethed.
“Youmade me want her,” Jacob replied. “Had you been more courteous on our first meeting, I might have let it lie. But you were so… rude to me. I thought it might serve you well if you were taught a lesson. Indeed, did I not tell you that I do not chase? With your sister, I did not have to. She came to me of her own accord, as easy as a dove to crumbs.”
