guv. Please!"
"Fantine!" gasped Marcus, clearly angered by her reaction, but she pressed on, relishing his every squirming expression.
"He made me, an' it were sinful!" She knew she could not claim she had been completely forced. She had too obviously enjoyed what had happened. The memory of what she had done, what she had allowed him to do to her, spurred on her theatrics. "Please," she cried to Lord Harris. "Send me away. I won't cause no trouble. Let me go t' church an' pray for my soul."
"Fantine!" cried Marcus. "There was nothing sinful in what we did, and well you know it."
"Oh, no!" she responded, her eyes tearing as she pleaded with Lord Harris. "I'm a good girl. I swear it. I never—"
"This is outside of enough!" bellowed Marcus as he bodily hauled her out of the corner. But she was ready, using his motion to help her scramble away to cower behind Lord Harris.
"Save me," she cried. "He is evil! The things 'e said 'e'd do if I cried out."
Marcus planted his fists on his hips as he glared at her. "I threatened nothing, Fantine, but I do now. I swear to God—"
"Enough, Chadwick," cut in Lord Harris.
"What!" he exploded, suddenly turning on his host. "You cannot believe what she is saying!"
"What I believe," he said slowly, "is that Miss—"
"Fanny Smith, yer lordship," she offered in a trembling voice.
"That Miss Smith would be better off as far away from here as possible. I shall pay her wages and see her home."
"Oh, no!" Fantine gasped. She did not want anyone knowing where she lived. Not even Penworthy knew that. "Jes me wages, yer lordship. I can find a 'ackney t' take me 'ome."
Apparently seizing on anything to discomfit her, Marcus stepped forward, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, no, Fanny, not after the trauma you have just sustained. I insist that my own coachman drive you."
She shook her head vehemently, not needing to act her distress. "Do not let 'im know where I live," she cried.
"Why would I wish to visit you, Fanny?" Marcus's voice was cold, but his eyes fairly glittered with emotion. Though he pretended absolute disgust with her, she knew he would come see her at his first opportunity. Then he would exact his revenge.
The thought was as thrilling as it was terrifying, and for a moment she felt paralyzed with fear. Everything was happening so fast! She turned one last pleading eye to Lord Harris. "Please, yer lordship. I be sore afraid."
"Very well," Harris said with a sigh as he paid her triple wages. "Get your hackney."
She smiled gratefully, though she knew her relief would be short-lived. One look at Marcus told her that he had just made finding her home a priority. She had no doubt he would succeed, eventually. But for this moment, she need only leave without having him follow her. If only one of those society ladies would discover—
A piercing wail split the air, coming from the ballroom. It was an older lady, Fantine guessed. Probably the matron who had somehow lost a diamond and emerald bracelet. The very same bracelet that currently rested in Marcus's pocket.
She grinned, knowing she could now escape. "Thank ye, yer lordship. An' may God bless ye," she said as she bobbed her curtsey.
Harris barely noticed, his attention already shifted to the ballroom and the mayhem beginning there. Marcus, however, easily caught her arm.
"What have you done?" he demanded, his grip tightening as Harris pushed past them out the library door.
"It is just a distraction in case of trouble." Then she abruptly twisted out of his grip and made for the hall. At the last possible moment, though, she glanced backward. "Of course, you might want to check your pockets." With that parting shot, she made her escape, running as fast as her legs could carry her.
Marcus watched her leave, knowing he could catch her if he wanted. But there was no need. Slipping outside, he signaled to his own coachman, who was loitering nearby. He simply pointed at Fantine's retreating form, and Jacob nodded in
"Fantine!" gasped Marcus, clearly angered by her reaction, but she pressed on, relishing his every squirming expression.
"He made me, an' it were sinful!" She knew she could not claim she had been completely forced. She had too obviously enjoyed what had happened. The memory of what she had done, what she had allowed him to do to her, spurred on her theatrics. "Please," she cried to Lord Harris. "Send me away. I won't cause no trouble. Let me go t' church an' pray for my soul."
"Fantine!" cried Marcus. "There was nothing sinful in what we did, and well you know it."
"Oh, no!" she responded, her eyes tearing as she pleaded with Lord Harris. "I'm a good girl. I swear it. I never—"
"This is outside of enough!" bellowed Marcus as he bodily hauled her out of the corner. But she was ready, using his motion to help her scramble away to cower behind Lord Harris.
"Save me," she cried. "He is evil! The things 'e said 'e'd do if I cried out."
Marcus planted his fists on his hips as he glared at her. "I threatened nothing, Fantine, but I do now. I swear to God—"
"Enough, Chadwick," cut in Lord Harris.
"What!" he exploded, suddenly turning on his host. "You cannot believe what she is saying!"
"What I believe," he said slowly, "is that Miss—"
"Fanny Smith, yer lordship," she offered in a trembling voice.
"That Miss Smith would be better off as far away from here as possible. I shall pay her wages and see her home."
"Oh, no!" Fantine gasped. She did not want anyone knowing where she lived. Not even Penworthy knew that. "Jes me wages, yer lordship. I can find a 'ackney t' take me 'ome."
Apparently seizing on anything to discomfit her, Marcus stepped forward, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, no, Fanny, not after the trauma you have just sustained. I insist that my own coachman drive you."
She shook her head vehemently, not needing to act her distress. "Do not let 'im know where I live," she cried.
"Why would I wish to visit you, Fanny?" Marcus's voice was cold, but his eyes fairly glittered with emotion. Though he pretended absolute disgust with her, she knew he would come see her at his first opportunity. Then he would exact his revenge.
The thought was as thrilling as it was terrifying, and for a moment she felt paralyzed with fear. Everything was happening so fast! She turned one last pleading eye to Lord Harris. "Please, yer lordship. I be sore afraid."
"Very well," Harris said with a sigh as he paid her triple wages. "Get your hackney."
She smiled gratefully, though she knew her relief would be short-lived. One look at Marcus told her that he had just made finding her home a priority. She had no doubt he would succeed, eventually. But for this moment, she need only leave without having him follow her. If only one of those society ladies would discover—
A piercing wail split the air, coming from the ballroom. It was an older lady, Fantine guessed. Probably the matron who had somehow lost a diamond and emerald bracelet. The very same bracelet that currently rested in Marcus's pocket.
She grinned, knowing she could now escape. "Thank ye, yer lordship. An' may God bless ye," she said as she bobbed her curtsey.
Harris barely noticed, his attention already shifted to the ballroom and the mayhem beginning there. Marcus, however, easily caught her arm.
"What have you done?" he demanded, his grip tightening as Harris pushed past them out the library door.
"It is just a distraction in case of trouble." Then she abruptly twisted out of his grip and made for the hall. At the last possible moment, though, she glanced backward. "Of course, you might want to check your pockets." With that parting shot, she made her escape, running as fast as her legs could carry her.
Marcus watched her leave, knowing he could catch her if he wanted. But there was no need. Slipping outside, he signaled to his own coachman, who was loitering nearby. He simply pointed at Fantine's retreating form, and Jacob nodded in
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