Page 130 of A Troublesome Circumstance

She backed away, the room shrinking, pressing in. “I will jump from the moving coach again.”

“This time I’ll tie your hands,” he snarled. “Face it, my lady, you are mine.”

“Never!”

He slapped her—sharp, brutal. Stars exploded across her vision. Before she could recover, he bent and hauled her over his shoulder.

She pounded his back with her fists. “Let me go! Let me go this instant!”

Broderick strode out into the hallway.

“Help!” Josephine screamed. “Someone please help me!”

A door flung open and her uncle stepped into the corridor. His eyes widened… then hardened. “What is the meaning of this, Broderick?”

“Nothing that concerns you, old man,” Broderick snapped. “Go back inside and keep quiet.”

Josephine lifted her head, desperation tightening her chest. “Uncle—please! Please help me!”

To her horror, he hesitated… then stepped back and shut the door.

Her heart plummeted.

“Uncle!” she cried, her voice breaking.

Broderick barked a laugh. “No one is coming to save you.”

Josephine thrashed violently, kicking at him. “You vile, despicable creature! I’d rather die than marry you!”

“Keep screaming and you just may get your wish,” he growled.

But she screamed anyway—fought anyway—every ounce of strength, every shred of fear, every desperate hope that someone would hear her.

Someone. Anyone. Please, she thought. Let someone come.

The cold night air slapped her cheeks the moment Broderick carried her outside. Josephine’s breath hitched as her gaze fell upon a black coach waiting in the gravel drive—the same coach, she was certain, that had nearly cost her life once already.

No. No, no, no.

If she were forced inside that coach again, this time she truly might not survive. She would rather risk death than become Mr. Broderick’s wife.

A liveried footman stepped forward and opened the coach door. The lamplight flickered across his impassive face, as if the entire scene meant nothing to him. Josephine kicked and twisted, pounding Broderick’s back, legs, anything she could reach, but he grunted and tightened his grip.

“Put me down!” she cried, her nails digging into his coat.

“It is pointless,” Broderick snapped.

Without ceremony, he bent and dropped her into the coach, her body hitting the hard seat with a painful thud.

“You are wasting your breath,” he said coldly.

Josephine lunged towards the door, but Broderick caught her by the arm and struck her hard across the cheek. The impact sent her head slamming against the inside paneling. Her ears rang.

“Stop fighting,” he ordered.

“Never!” she spat, tasting blood on her tongue.

He reached beside her and grabbed a length of rope from the bench. “Stay still, now,” he warned, “and I promise I won’t hurt you too much.”