Page 138 of A Story of Love

But he could still crawl, by God!

He grabbed Bevil by his hair and dragged him inch by painful inch. His vision grew blurrier by the second and he began to fear he’d lose consciousness before he could achieve his task.

Suddenly, his burden was much lighter; so much lighter that he stumbled forward on his knees. He glanced back and saw that Ellie Jenson had one of Bevil’s arms and was dragging him, her bound hands gripping Bevil’s wrist.

“Where to?” she asked breathlessly.

“Anvil,” he muttered.

His head was spinning by the time he reached the huge lump of iron. When he turned to Bevil his heart lurched at the other man’s parchment pale face and closed eyes. For a moment he feared death had cheated him.

But then Moreland’s eyelids flickered open, he fixed Fast with a glassy-eyed stare, and his lips formed the word, mercy.

Rather than elicit the reaction Bevil intended, the plea revivified Fast’s flagging fury and the sound that tore from his chest was pure animal. “Mercy? You can ask God for that,” he raged. “There will be none here on earth.” He spared a glance for Ellie. “Go now if you don’t want to see what I am about to do.”

Her dead eyes suddenly flared to life as her gaze bored into Bevil’s limp form. “It is my family he destroyed—not just yours.”

Fast had no energy left to argue. So, he nodded and turned back to Bevil.

And then he wrapped his hands around his neck.

Chapter 30

Escaping The King’s Purse was almost disappointingly easy. There were no guards by her door and none at the bottom of the servant stairs.

Indeed, the entire house had seemed almost eerily empty.

Fearing that Fast might come to Freddie’s house searching for her, Lori decided to seek refuge with her friend Serena, who’d not long ago married the wealthy industrialist, Gareth Lockheart. The couple maintained a London residence even though they were rarely in the city.

The Lockhearts’s housekeeper, Mrs. Poole, recognized Lori immediately. “Naturally I remember you, Miss Fontenot. Mrs. Lockheart has standing instructions that a room be kept ready and waiting for any of her friends who choose to visit.” She took Lori’s valise and cloak. “Are you hungry? It wouldn’t take but a quarter of an hour to have something for you. Nothing fancy, mind, but something good and filling.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Poole, although that is very kind. Just some hot water so that I might have a wash, and perhaps some tea. But don’t let me interrupt your dinner, afterward is fine.”

“Bless you, child,” the old housekeeper said with an amused chuckle, “Poole and I finish with our meal before the sun even begins to go down. Let me take you up to the blue room and get you settled in and then I’ll have your water and a tray sent up.”

Lori loved the old couple who ran Serena’s London house, but right now she just wanted to be alone.

Fortunately, Mrs. Poole—accustomed to Gareth Lockheart, one of the most taciturn people Lori had ever met—was used to serving people who had no desire to chatter, and soon left Lori alone in the comfortable suite of rooms.

Once she’d had a wash and drank three cups of tea, she felt more human, but no less miserable.

The night seemed interminable, and she tossed and turned in the comfortable bed, alternately fearing that Fast would find her or that he’d not even bother looking.

By the following morning, she decided that she had behaved far too dramatically not going home.

The truth was that Lord Stand Fast Severn didn’t care that she had gone. Indeed, he was probably overjoyed to be spared the irritation of having to tell her about his betrothal to Miss Pascoe and ask her to leave.

And so, after she had broken her fast, Lori took her leave of the kindly Mr. and Mrs. Poole and went home.

It was something of a shock when she opened the door to the parlor and Freddie smiled up at her. “Oh, you’re back,” she said, looking not at all surprised to see her.

That was when Lori remembered that she had supposedly written to her friend and that Freddie had no clue that Lori had spent the last two weeks in a brothel.

Before she could compose her face, Freddie was on her feet, heading toward her with outstretched hands. “Lori? Whatever is the matter?”

Without any warning—either to herself or to Freddie—Lori burst into tears for the second time in less than a week.

Freddie took her in her arms and gently comforted her while the storm raged. Once her calm friend had soothed Lori to the point of hiccupping and sniffing rather than wailing and sobbing, Freddie stood and crossed the room to pull the servant cord before rejoining Lori on the settee.