Page 32 of Surrender to Sin

“Get in,” yelled Dev, as the curricle came to a grinding halt. “What are we following?”

“Baxter’s town carriage,” said Sin, as he, the duke, and the duchess scrambled onto the leather seats. The curricle charged smoothly forward, the air cool as the conveyance had only a roof, no walls or door, but that was the least of his worries. They had to catch Baxter before he hurt Grace further. Had to.

“Right,” said the duke. “Explain to me what the hell is going on. Why has Baxter taken Grace? Why would he think for a moment he could?”

Sin glared at the older man. “Don’t you dare pretend ignorance. You are the head of the family and approved the fucking match. Christ. Carrington was a cold fool, but now you and Grace’s goddamned father hand her over to someone ten times worse? Men like you should be horsewhipped.”

“Grace and Lord Baxter?” gasped the duchess, gripping her husband’s arm as they rounded a sharp corner at great pace. “Oh no. Charles would never sanction that.”

“Damned right I wouldn’t. Don’t like the cut of his jib. Never have.”

Sin scowled at the duo. “Are you trying to tell me you have no knowledge of the marriage your dear brother the bishop is forcing on Grace tomorrow at eleven o’clock?”

Waverly grimaced. “What Harold says and the truth is not necessarily the same thing. How could we know when we’ve been in bloody Vienna for the past two months? Only got back yesterday, because Anne informed me if we missed the pirate ball my life wouldn’t be worth a farthing. Hell and damnation. My brother has gone too far this time. And as for that bounder Baxter—”

All three groaned as the curricle jerked left, then right, one wheel lifting almost completely off the street as they raced around a slow-moving cart loaded with barrels of ale.

“No. He’s mine to deal with,” said Sin, trying to ignore his roiling gut as he stared defiantly at two pillars of society. Even if they did enjoy the odd naked pirate orgy. “I adore Grace, and if she’ll have me I’m going to marry her.”

Duchess Anne patted his knee and murmured “lovely” before swiftly pressing her fingers to her mouth. Clearly her stomach was enjoying the journey as much as his.

“I know you’re of decent stock,” said Waverly. “Your father and mother were both good people. Financials?”

Sin almost smiled. “No debt, substantial incomes from Fallen and various estates, also a few shipping interests.”

“And you’ll treat her and any children well?”

“Always. I swear.”

“Good,” said the duke grimly, as he gestured ahead of them. “Here’s the chance to prove yourself.”

…

Pain. Bad pain. And the world wouldn’t stop swaying and jolting.

Inching open one eyelid, Grace struggled to get her bearings. She was lying down, and her head, stomach, and arm throbbed. But why did she feel so ill and dizzy? Groggily, she peered around the gloomy, lamp-lit space. It was still night, that much was clear.

“You are in my carriage, Lady Carrington.”

“Baxter,” she hissed, bracing one arm on the window as she swung her legs down into a sitting position. The movement caused her head to pound, and for one awful moment her stomach threatened to erupt at the sight of the revolting man sitting across from her. “What have you done?”

“Foolish woman. You had the opportunity to become my wife. To create a dynasty and know true power. But you are weak. Tainted. Just like the rest of them.”

“You’re mad,” she said, not bothering to hide her contempt.

“I am not!” he barked.

“Bedlamite.”

“Silence, whore! We’ll be in the Rookeries soon enough. You like to be taken with an audience, well those vermin criminals won’t hesitate, and I will enjoy watching them bite and tear as they break you with the punishment you deserve. You’ll be sorry for crossing me. And St. John loses again…damnation, what now?”

Grace stilled, hope surging as the carriage hit several bumps then slowed to a crawl, and Lord Baxter frantically rubbed his hand over the fogged window to discover the reason. If she could just get to the door and lift the latch, she could hurl herself out. Anything was better than this madman’s plan.

“Ohhhh,” she groaned, shuddering as she slid closer to the side of the carriage. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“So very sick,” Grace repeated, throwing herself at the door, her fingers scrabbling for the latch. Nearly there…