The Devil Rogue (19 page)

She’d had to walk from her father’s house, and even though it was only about a mile
or so
away, it had taken her an eternity to travel that short distance
.
Determined to avoid being seen, she
’d
stuck to the shadows, creeping through backyards
and alleyways
.

Wincing in pain, she closed the door quietly behind her
.
It was dark in
side
the house and deathly silent
.
Her ears pound
ing
in rhythm to the beating of her heart
,
she strained for any sound that might indicate someone was up and about, most especially,
Blackridge
.

Her body throbbed in
more
places
than she could count. H
er eyes were both horribly swollen, and her
skull
felt like it was about to split open
.
She was sure he
’
d broken a couple of ribs this time
.

She walked stooped over like an old hag,
her hands out in front of her,
shuffling her feet as she made her way
through the hall
to the stairs
.
God, how was she going to make it up
those
two flights
?
She
’
d never received such a powerful beating from
The Baron
before
.
If she hadn’t w
h
acked him over the head with
that heavy
volume of the world atlas, effectively rendering him unconscious, Angela
knew
the baron
would have killed her.

Their argument had escalated quickly
–
she demanding to know what right he had in refusing any marriage offers, and he trying to convince her to give him the money she would receive from Blackridge
.
She’d made the mistake
of
laughing at the idea that she would share any part of it with him
.

They
’
d torn into each other
then,
like two wild animals fighting over a kill
.
She
’
d kicked and scratched an
d punched, but his strength
had
eventually
overpowered her
, leaving her curled in a ball in a vain attempt to cover her head with her arms
.
From her position on the floor, she’d seen the large book
within reach,
had
scrambled for it, and
then
swung with all her might
.
He’d crumpled to the floor, dead for all she knew
.
All she could think about was to get out of there and back here, where
it was safe.

She
wouldn’t be able to give Blackridge a story this time
.
She’d
be forced
to explain
her condition to him tomorrow
.
Unfortunately, she’d also have to explain everything else
.
It didn’t matter
.
She was tired of all the lies, tired of trying to be strong
,
of
bear
ing
this alone
.

A sudden noise came from the darkness, somewhere in front of her
.
In the deep silence, it
was loud as
a pistol
crack
.
“I see you found your way,”
said
Blackridge’s
disembodied voice.

Angela shivered, licking her swollen, cracked lips before speaking
.
“M-my lord, I-I—
”

“I want you packed and out of my house
by dawn.
”
His voice was
cold
and flat
.

“Y-you want me to leave?”
She was
shaken by the
unemotional tone in his voice
.
“But I have nowhere to go.”
She hated how pathetic she must sound.

“That, my dear, is none of my concern
.
Go back to your father
.
I don’t really care.”

Her eyes filled with tears, burning
her cheeks
as they fell on
the
fresh scratches
there
.
“My
father
?”
S
he laughed hysterically
.
“I just left my father
. I think I
killed him.”

“What are you babbling about?” Ian demanded
.
She was behaving strangely
, panting
as though she’d just run a great race
.
He moved
forward,
in the direction
of
her voice, closing some of the distance between them.

“I’m not feeling very
well,” she said miserably
.

“That seems to be a regular occurrence lately,” he said,
refusing to be swayed by her words, her pitiful sounding voice
.

She whimpered, and
then
it was
followed by the crash of pottery shattering against the floor
. Ian
was startled into action.
He
found her with his
blindly
seeking hands,
crumpled
in a
small
pile
.
He picked her up and carried her
to
the stairs
.
She cried out with a scream of pain
and then fell silent
.
It was too dark to see her face, to check her condition
.
His
heart raced as he sprinted up the stairs,
taking them
two at a time
.

What was wrong with her
?

Where did she say she’d been
–
her father’s house
?
Did she say that she’d killed him
?

Jesus
!

Once he reached the landing, t
he glow from the low-burning lamp in his room guided him down the hall
.
He carried her in, la
id
her on the bed, stepping back
in horror
.
His breath
lodged
in his throat
when he got a look at her
.
Her ball gown was torn
at one shoulder, the sleeve hanging down to expose
the
smooth, white skin
of her slender arm
.
The material was
stained with spots of blood
,
the hem dirty and torn
.

He looked at
her face
.

D
ear God
.

Her face was bruised and swollen and bleeding
,
with several scratche
s
marring her perfect skin
.
There were two dark, hand-shaped imprints marking her neck as though someone had tried to strangle her.

Mrs. Brown appeared in the doorway, breathing rapidly from her rushed descent down the
servants
’
stairs
.
“What’s happened, my lord
?
I heard a crash
.
Is that – oh, my dear, sweet Lord!”
She clasped her hands to her bosom
at the sight of Miss Hopkins
lying
so
still upon the bed.

“
Send
for a
physician, will you, Mrs. Brown?
” Ian said, calmly
.

“Of course, my lord.” Mrs. Brown hurried away.

Had it been
he
r father
Miss Hopkins had
left the
ball
with
, then
?

And
Ian
had let her
go
.

He should have gone after her and stopped her
.
Why hadn’t he?

H
e
’d
been
jealous.

Ian
shoved
his
fingers
through his hair.
How could he be jealous of a woman he’d never even bedded
?
That thought struck him like bolt of lightening, causing his world to shift on its axis
.
When had he begun to care about her enough to provoke an emotion he had never felt before?

At the ball, when she’d been confronted by Wardley, Ian had felt
fiercely protective of
her
, rega
rdless of his suspicions.
He
’d
been
ready to take the man’s head off
for
his insults
.

She’d seemed genuinely confused and upset about Wardley’s claim to have asked for her hand. Ian
already knew of Wardley and his offer, and the large amount of money paid by his family to the baron.
Since t
he Wardleys were social climbers,
they
could
n’t
afford
the threat of a
scandal.

Ian was
beginning to
believe
that maybe her father
wa
s the sole player in this debacle
.

Determination to help her spurred Ian forward
.
He
closed the door, and moving to the bed, began to
carefully
remove her gown
.
Each time he had to shift her position, she cried out
.
Ian
wondered if maybe he should wait for the doctor, in case she had a more serious injury than what was obvious
.
But his concern for her
immediate needs
won out, so he resumed his task as gently as possible.

He finally had her gown off, and began working on her sto
ckings and chemise
.
Her naked body showed numerous bruises and red marks where she’d obviously been struck repeatedly
.
Ian was sickened by the violence evidenced on her battered body
.

But what made him burn with rage were the pale scars across her otherwise
flawless
back, vicious imprints caused from the lash of a whip
.
There was one that curved around
her waist
, almost touching her belly button
.

Her fascination, or rather,
her
empathy
toward
his own scars
now
became clear, as well as her opinion of herself as not being beautiful.

As h
e pulled the
quilt
up
,
he caught a glimpse of the bandage on her arm
.
She’d claimed to have cut herself helping in the kitchen
–
but
had
she really
?

Suddenly,
an
image
flashed in his mind –
of her standing in the attic that first night
,
crouched in a defensive stance, facing her father
.
Ian
now remembered the knife that lay on the floor near her kneeling parent
.
The
significance
of
that knife
hadn’t registered
until
this very moment. It
had somehow remained dormant in his memory until he was able to correlate the facts together.

Tears of rage and guilt and remorse
stung
his eyes
. What a
fool he’d been
in not seeing her for what she really was
–
an innocent victim
.
He sat on the edge of the bed
with
his back to her,
his
head
dropping
in
to
his hands
.