Page 2 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

Leaning on his silver-knobbed walking stick, her father fixed his dark eyes on her, his mouth a black line between thin lips.

Charlotte’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. The light flickered, dimming to a dull gray as she began to slump again. Oblivion would certainly be preferable to what her father surely had in store for her.

Cold water hit her face and chest, forcing her back into consciousness.

“You will be awake to see this, Charlotte.” Her father thrust a stoneware mug at the tollkeeper, who clutched it to his chest as if it were a shield. Then her father nodded to the man with the pistol.

“No! You cannot kill him.” Charlotte wrenched her arms out of the man’s grasp and lunged for the gun.

The side of the pistol slammed into her face, knocking her to the floor. He cocked the piece and returned it to Edward’s head.

“Thrush, here, had the audacity to try to take what is mine.” Her father’s voice shook, his fury rising with each curt word.

Through her wavering vision, her father’s face appeared impassive in the uncertain light, his voice now emotionless as he peered down at her. “If you assisted him in this, then his blood is on your hands much more so than mine.”

“If you kill him, you will have to kill me as well.” Narrowing her eyes at him, Charlotte carefully picked herself up off the floor, hatred of him so intense it must be oozing through her skin. “I will tell everyone exactly what you have done to Edward. As a peer you may be above the law, but you are not above the censure of the ton. I will make sure that they have every detail of his death and our elopement until the scandal-broth scalds you to death. If you want scandal, Father, I will choke you with it.”

He chuckled, adjusting his grip on his walking stick. “Sometimes I wish you were my heir, Charlotte. You have a better mind than Caldwell, and much more of me in you.” He sighed and rubbed the knob of his cane. “Pity you’ve begun to rave like a lunatic. I doubt you will like Bedlam, my dear. I would dislike having to put you there, but if you tell such grievous lies, what else am I to do?”

A wave of horror washed over her. Tales of the appalling conditions of the infamous hospital had sickened her. Her arms broke out in gooseflesh. Bitter bile crawled up the back of her throat. Tears trickling down her cheeks, she looked at Edward, who hadn’t moved the whole time.

He mouthed silently, I love you.

Staring at him, she raised her voice until it rang to the rafters. “I love you, Edward.”

“Sickening pap.” Her father pursed his lips as though a bad taste filled his mouth. “I should kill you, too.” He nodded to the man with the pistol. “Cates.”

“Tollkeeper!”

The shout from outside froze everyone.

Dear God, a savior. Charlotte opened her mouth, only to have the dirty hand of her captor slam over it before she could shout.

“Attend to your business, tollkeeper.” Her father’s words were clipped as he stared down at the little man. “Leave me to mine and you will be rewarded.”

Eyes wide, the tollkeeper nodded and headed for the door with shaky steps.

Charlotte elbowed her captor, wrenching her body this way and that, trying to break free. She bit down on the hand that muzzled her and stomped in an effort to mash his foot.

The howl the blackguard sent up was music to her ears. He jerked his hand away, swearing.

“Help! Oh God, help me. Someone!” She screamed so loudly something in her throat tore.

“Charlotte!” Her father slammed his cane down on the table an inch from Edward’s face, making her jump back. “Andrews, for God’s sake, stifle her.”

Andrews grabbed her again, putting his arm around her neck. She almost gagged at the sour smell of his coat.

The door burst open and a tall man holding a large pistol strode in, the tollkeeper scuttling behind him.

Cates whipped his gun around, training it on the stranger.

The man, who seemed to tower over everyone in the room, obliged him by leveling his weapon on Andrews. Glancing from one figure to another, his gaze finally rested on Charlotte. “What the devil is going on here?”

His deep, commanding voice sent a thrill of hope through her.

“None of your affair, sir.” Her father once again leaned on his cane, his mouth pinched. “You may pay your toll and be on your way. This is a private matter.”

The stranger, bundled against the cold in a blue peacoat and black felt hat with the brim pulled down shading his eyes, shook his head. “I think not.” He nodded toward Charlotte. “I heard the lady scream. I’ll hear what she has to say.”