She rounded on Evan. “You’re taking me.”
“Still busy,” he said quickly. Thank God.
Although the idea of dropping in later, alone, just in time to rip Miss Stanton from Forrester’s weak clutches and escape with her into the darkness—now, that would be something to come home a little early for.
“Can wepleasespeak alone?”
Miss Stanton’s murmured plea burned in Evan’s blood. Too bad the question had been asked of Forrester, not him.
The magistrate nodded, placing her hand on his elbow.
Evan blocked his path within seconds. “Where the devil are you taking her?”
“To walk along the beach.” Forrester’s slow smile over the top of Miss Stanton’s head indicated he realized the full extent of how he’d just trounced Evan Bothwick. Little slug had a brain between his ears after all. “You may watch us from here, if you would like to play at chaperone, Mother.”
Damnit.
The sodding rotter had dismissed himandmade it unmanly to keep watch, all in the same breath. Miss Devonshire harrumphed. Evan shook with repressed rage. He should’ve shot through them both when he’d had the chance. If he backed up a few paces, perhaps he still could.
Miss Stanton leaned into the magistrate and strolled with him toward the water’s edge without so much as a fare-thee-well. She would no doubt fall head over feet in love with the goody choirboy right before Evan’s eyes.
And all he could do was watch.
Chapter 21
He was a dream come true.
A man of the law, possessed of both his faculties and a carriage, offering to get her the hell out of this no-horse town. Susan nearly pranced at this sudden turn of fortune.
“When do we leave?” She bounced on her toes. “It’d be impossible to repack all my valises, so I guess I won’t take—well, I won’t take anything at all, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll buy a completely new trousseau in London. Fatherowesme. But none of that matters when you still haven’t said at what time you prefer to set out. I can be ready in an hour. I can actually be ready, well,already,if you care to direct me to the horses right now. Is the carriage close by? Are the chaperones awaiting us?”
She smiled up at him expectantly.
He did the confused, blinking-frowning face typically reserved for octogenarians.
“I’m afraid the assembly isn’t untilnextweekend, my dear. And yes, of course we will be properly chaperoned. I’ve a lovely aunt who’s just dying to return to Bath.”
Nextweekend! Bloody, bloody hell. Who’s to say she—and cousin Emeline—would survive that long?
She glanced over his shoulder. Mr. Bothwick, Miss Grey, and Miss Devonshire hadn’t moved. Unless one counted the smirk on the latter’s china-perfect face, which indicated Susan had not quite walked out of earshot yet.
To quote the recently departed Mr. Timothy Bothwick, damn and triple damn. (It really was an excellent expression, which she would henceforth strive to utilize as much as possible.)
Just as important as her disappointingly postponed escape was the need to rescue Lady Emeline while she was still breathing. Presuming she was still breathing. Every time Susan had tried to venture back into the cellar to check on her cousin, a servant had been stationed near the staircase.
If even half the story about the original Lady Beaune were true, the local residents were the last people she could count upon to see the inhumanity of the situation. If Miss Grey and Miss Devonshire overheard Susan plotting to rid the giant of his captive bride, they’d no doubt run off to tell the “poor man” everything before she or the magistrate could act.
Then Susan would have nothing to show for her efforts except a magistrate who no longer believed her stories (as if anyone could believe such a tale without seeing the horror firsthand) and the knowledge that she’d have to return to Moonseed Manor to face the giant’s wrath at her attempted perfidy.
She’d never make it to Bath if the magistrate rescinded his invitation. Or if she were chained to the cellar.
Were they far enough away to speak without being overheard? She cast another glance over the magistrate’s shoulder. The two women hadn’t moved. But Mr. Bothwick had. He seemed to be strolling after them, keeping an even distance, careful to stay just within earshot. Shameless busybody. She tried to catch his eye, but he tipped his face into the sun and began to whistle a tuneless melody, as if it were just coincidence that he happened to be invading her personal space on an otherwise empty strip of beach stretching along forty miles of shore.
At this rate, her poor cousin would be stuck where she was until after the assembly, when Susan made her break for home. Plenty of people knew the Stanton name in Bath. Getting a carriage on credit would be easy. And then she’d bring the full force of London law down on Moonseed Manor, even if her parents immediately re-evicted her for finding herself in the midst of another scandal.
Susan hated having to wait another week, but as long as she rescued cousin Emeline in the end, all would be worth it.
“Do you like dancing so very much, then?”
