Fear speared through Florentia, raw and familiar.She hadn’t been afraid since she’d poisoned her late husband.Now fear attacked her anew, making her feel helpless all over again.
She hated feeling helpless.
“I don’t know,” she said to her friend, before looking at the looming man.“Who are you?What do you want?”
He chuckled, dark and menacing.“I’m The Butcher, and I want that bloody fucking coward Tavish O’Brien to pay.”
“Oh dear,” Charity said, squeezing herself to Florentia’s side.“The earl is not going to be pleased if I miss dinner.”
She patted her friend’s hand and held her head up high.
Florentia could tell by the evil gleam in The Butcher’s eyes that he was a cruel person, and any sign of weakness would be their doom.No, she had to stay alive until Tavish came for her.
Because there was no doubt in her mind that he would come.
Tavish eyes flicked over to the grandfather clock sitting proudly in the corner of the duke’s dressing chambers.Something didn’t feel right, Florentia had not returned in hours from her shopping excursion with her friend.The more time passed without her mischievous eyes dancing at him, the more Tavish wanted to punch something or someone.
“Your Grace,” Anderson said, entering the dressing chambers.“Her Grace and Lady Woodmere are not at Woodmere, her butler writes that they left together around one o’clock and have not returned which is strange as Her Ladyship likes to return to put the little one to bed.”
“Fecking hell,” Tavish spit out, stepping away from Jessee.“I’m going to the damn the modiste.”He was already dressed in a black waistcoat, and boots, he didn’t care that he wasn’t wearing a coat, he needed to find Florentia and this Lady Woodmere.
“This also came for you, Your Grace.”Anderson held out a small missive.
Tavish snatched the missive, dread in his gut as he stalked out of the dressing room.
He stopped at the messy handwriting on the parchment.
If you want to see the duchess and her friend again, meet me tonight.
You’re a dead man.
Bloody fecking hell.
Tavish ran through the mansion, racing out of the door, to the waiting carriage.He was meant to arrive at the Duke of Karrington’s in two hours, but he didn’t give a damn about a ball when Florentia was in danger.
Fierce, beautiful, passionate Florentia.The woman who had unmanned him in the course of three days, rendering him a lovesick fool.
“O’Brien’s, now!And don’t fecking stop for anything.”he demanded of the wide-eyed coachman.
“Right away Your Grace!”
Tavish had been avoiding his da’s gentleman’s club, not wanting to feel his absence.Flynn O’Brien had put every ounce of himself into building O’Brien’s so that his family would have a legacy when he was gone.
His da hadn’t realized that he was all the legacy they needed.
The carriage sped through Mayfair, and Tavish made a note to make sure he rewarded the coachman, whose name he didn’t remember.
They came to a breaking stop, and he jumped out of the carriage, calling behind him as he ran.“Be ready to go the docks in moments!”
“I’ll be ready, Your Grace!”
He ran into the club, noting everything that had changed since he’d last been inside five years ago.It was the last time he and his da had spoken, harsh words about Tavish’s future.
“What the feck are you doing here, don’t you have a ball to attend?”his brother Fionn said, dressed in a white jacket and carrying a tray of drinks..
“Where’s Declan, I need him, now!”he said to his younger brother, not wanting to waste another second.
He’d already wasted time, rushing to get to his brother, but if he was going to fight, he needed someone with him.
