“Stubs.” A voice from the crowd she didn’t recognize. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“We have to,” another voice said.
“I don’t care what you think. She wants it. She gives it away, I hear. Though it wasn’t news to me. Besides, we’re doing the duchess a special favor.” He ground his hips against her back and bile rose in her throat.
“Please, no,” she whimpered.
“You mean ‘please, yes.’” He shoved her forward, sent her to her knees, then yanked her up again, pushing her forward until the rough bark of a tree scratched her cheek.
She fought panic. She could still control the situation. “You let go of me this instant!” Her voice sounded more confident than she felt.
“Let her go, Stubs. A little fun is fun, but she wants herdead.” The voice hissed the last word, scared of the single syllable.
“Yeah. Let’s go. It’s the middle of the afternoon.”
Henrietta swallowed the panic shooting through her. Dead? “Who wants me dead?” she choked out.
Stubly’s grip tightened. His breath heated her ear. “No use in knowing if you won’t be here long enough to enjoy the information.”
“No!” Henrietta stomped on his foot, flung her elbows wherever they might hit a vulnerable target.
His hand flew over her mouth and the other shoved her tight against a tree.
She bit his palm.
“You bitch!” he cursed, jerking his hand away.
“Stubs!” The voices behind them grew in urgency.
Stubly didn’t notice. “You’ll pay,” he said, shaking his hand.
“Stubly! Someone’s coming!”
Still, he seemed not to hear, piercing Henrietta with a rage-filled gaze.
“My lord.” A voice, deep and commanding rose above the others. “I ’ave a pistol trained on yer ’ead. If you don’t let Miss Blake go, I’ll use it.”
“Thomas!” Henrietta cried, sobbing thanks for her groom’s rescue.
Stubly’s grip loosened. Whether from fear or astonishment, she didn’t know and didn’t care. She wrenched from his grasp and stumbled toward Thomas, who shoved her behind him, keeping the pistol trained on Stubly the entire time.
“You think one man can stop all of us?” Stubly asked.
Henrietta caught a hint of grin slip into the thin line of Thomas’s mouth. “I ’eard you’re not particularly great with a pistol, my lord. Besides, what others are you talking about?”
It was true. Stubly stood alone, his cronies ambled, cloaks limp about their shoulders, back the way they’d come. Henrietta’s heartbeat slowed from triple- to double-time.
Stubly’s head jerked about as he gazed in dismay at his disappearing friends. “Fuck,” he muttered. He lifted his eyes to Thomas and squared his shoulders. “You won’t shoot me.”
“Won’t I? Personally, I feel Mr. Blake should ’ave shot you last year, but that’s me.” His brows drew together. “And a bunch of the others back at the ’ouse, of course.”
Stubly stood his ground, his jaw hardening. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Henrietta surged forward, fists at the ready. “Why you!”
Thomas yanked Henrietta back behind him.
“Yer a liar and a scoundrel and everyone will know it,” Thomas said, keeping the pistol trained on Stubly. “Already do know it, I’m sure. Just been too polite an’ all to say anything.”
