by marrying her—he wasn’t defending her for her own sake.
Except that he hadn’t needed to cover her ears and try to keep her from hearing the horror of Millie’s punishment.
But he had.
And now there was no going back and un-feeling what it was like to have someone defend her, no matter the reasons.
Millie let out a long breath and closed her eyes. “Perhaps you ought to negotiate with him.”
“ Negotiate? He’ll accept nothing less from me than marriage, Millie.” The moment we set foot in France, you shall be mine. That was what he’d said.
And she’d told him she didn’t care.
It wasn’t true.
She’d told him she would do anything. Even marry him.
He couldn’t possibly have believed her.
“If you agree to stop fighting him—” Millie sighed “—he might agree to give you some of that money and allow you to live independently.”
“Oh, yes—and renege on that agreement the moment he’s got the money in hand.” She could still taste him. The skin beneath her lower lip still burned a little from the scrape of his unshaven jaw, and her lips felt a little bruised. “We’ll escape as soon as we arrive in Marseille,” she told Millie. “We’ll find a way to quickly return to Malta before William can ready the Possession to sail. We could yet steal it from under his nose—or at the very least, sneak aboard long enough to retrieve your money.”
“We won’t,” Millie said raggedly. “Because once we reach Marseille, Lord Taggart will take you away, and we’ll likely never see each other again.”
* * *
M ILLIE LAY ON her stomach in the cabin William had moved her to, with her back on fire. She tried to muster some kind of resolve, but all that was left inside her was an empty chasm.
The ship rocked and lolled in a newfound breeze, steadily making its way toward France.
In a day or two she would find herself alone in Marseille—left behind when Lord Taggart took India away. She would be forced to sell her body to disease-ridden sailors, earning no more than a few pence each time. The prospect curled around her lungs, making it difficult to breathe against the musty pillow.
A tear slid down the side of her nose and dropped into the ticking. An unholy thought crept like a finger of black fog into her thoughts:
Poison.
It would be quick. Easy.
And a terrible, horrible sin. But did that really matter now?
The scrape of the bar being lifted snapped her attention to the door. Quickly she swiped at the tear, cursing when the motion pulled at her wounds, cursing again when the door opened and Lord Taggart came in.
“Leave me,” she said. “I do not want you here.”
“I have a proposal,” he said flatly, and shut the door behind him.
“Nothing you have to say could possibly interest me.” Never mind everything that had transpired since Malta... If it weren’t for Lord Taggart and his bloody bill of attainder, Katherine never would have left the Mediterranean to sail for England. They would all still be aboard the Possession, and soon Millie would have had everything in place to attend the School of Surgery.
“That remains to be seen.” He spoke in that even, unperturbed tone that was his hallmark—as if nothing could disturb him, not even the sight of her wounds. “When we arrive in Marseille, I plan to hire a carriage and return to England traveling north through France. I have every expectation that Lady India will attempt to escape me.” He paused, watching her. “I am prepared to take you with us, if you will assist me during the journey.”
“To hell with you.”
“In exchange, I will offer you a hundred pounds and a letter of introduction identifying you as a personal acquaintance under any name you like. I would claim to be your patron.”
Now Millicent stared at him.
Go to the devil. Those were the words she should say. Instead, she thought she might vomit.
“You refuse? Very well.” He started to turn.
“Wait.” Her voice betrayed far too
Except that he hadn’t needed to cover her ears and try to keep her from hearing the horror of Millie’s punishment.
But he had.
And now there was no going back and un-feeling what it was like to have someone defend her, no matter the reasons.
Millie let out a long breath and closed her eyes. “Perhaps you ought to negotiate with him.”
“ Negotiate? He’ll accept nothing less from me than marriage, Millie.” The moment we set foot in France, you shall be mine. That was what he’d said.
And she’d told him she didn’t care.
It wasn’t true.
She’d told him she would do anything. Even marry him.
He couldn’t possibly have believed her.
“If you agree to stop fighting him—” Millie sighed “—he might agree to give you some of that money and allow you to live independently.”
“Oh, yes—and renege on that agreement the moment he’s got the money in hand.” She could still taste him. The skin beneath her lower lip still burned a little from the scrape of his unshaven jaw, and her lips felt a little bruised. “We’ll escape as soon as we arrive in Marseille,” she told Millie. “We’ll find a way to quickly return to Malta before William can ready the Possession to sail. We could yet steal it from under his nose—or at the very least, sneak aboard long enough to retrieve your money.”
“We won’t,” Millie said raggedly. “Because once we reach Marseille, Lord Taggart will take you away, and we’ll likely never see each other again.”
* * *
M ILLIE LAY ON her stomach in the cabin William had moved her to, with her back on fire. She tried to muster some kind of resolve, but all that was left inside her was an empty chasm.
The ship rocked and lolled in a newfound breeze, steadily making its way toward France.
In a day or two she would find herself alone in Marseille—left behind when Lord Taggart took India away. She would be forced to sell her body to disease-ridden sailors, earning no more than a few pence each time. The prospect curled around her lungs, making it difficult to breathe against the musty pillow.
A tear slid down the side of her nose and dropped into the ticking. An unholy thought crept like a finger of black fog into her thoughts:
Poison.
It would be quick. Easy.
And a terrible, horrible sin. But did that really matter now?
The scrape of the bar being lifted snapped her attention to the door. Quickly she swiped at the tear, cursing when the motion pulled at her wounds, cursing again when the door opened and Lord Taggart came in.
“Leave me,” she said. “I do not want you here.”
“I have a proposal,” he said flatly, and shut the door behind him.
“Nothing you have to say could possibly interest me.” Never mind everything that had transpired since Malta... If it weren’t for Lord Taggart and his bloody bill of attainder, Katherine never would have left the Mediterranean to sail for England. They would all still be aboard the Possession, and soon Millie would have had everything in place to attend the School of Surgery.
“That remains to be seen.” He spoke in that even, unperturbed tone that was his hallmark—as if nothing could disturb him, not even the sight of her wounds. “When we arrive in Marseille, I plan to hire a carriage and return to England traveling north through France. I have every expectation that Lady India will attempt to escape me.” He paused, watching her. “I am prepared to take you with us, if you will assist me during the journey.”
“To hell with you.”
“In exchange, I will offer you a hundred pounds and a letter of introduction identifying you as a personal acquaintance under any name you like. I would claim to be your patron.”
Now Millicent stared at him.
Go to the devil. Those were the words she should say. Instead, she thought she might vomit.
“You refuse? Very well.” He started to turn.
“Wait.” Her voice betrayed far too
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