Page 79 of The Unfortunate Debutante
“I couldn’t possibly… no, that’s impossible…” Her words trailed off. “Do I?”
Before Rachel could respond, Luke pushed the door open. “It’s time to depart, Emma. Your trunks are being packed, and they will be delivered later this afternoon.”
Both women rose, and Rachel gave her a tight embrace. “Be safe, Emma. I will write a missive to Simeon and inform him that you’re safe,” Rachel said, stepping back.
“Thank you, Rachel,” she murmured.
Within a few moments, Luke had whisked her away in his crested coach to Portman Square.
She glanced out the window at the four-armed footmen riding next to the coach. “Are ten footmen truly necessary to escort me to Eliza’s townhouse?”
“Yes,” Luke answered quickly. “Eight armed footmen and the drivers.”
“But it is only an eight-minute ride by coach…” Her voice stopped when the coach came to a jerking stop, causing her to lurch forward, and the sound of discharging pistols erupted from outside of the coach.
Luke reached under the bench and removed two pistols from an iron box. “Whatever happens Emma, you must stay in the coach.” He extended her an overcoat pistol. “I understand you know how to use this?”
“I do,” she replied.
“Keep it on your person,” he urged.
The discharging pistols stopped, and a deafening silence followed. A moment later, the coach door was wrenched open, and Peter Lockhart appeared, pointing a pistol towards Luke’s chest.
“Hello, darling. I’ve missed you,” Peter said sweetly as his eyes shifted towards her.
“You have no right to talk to her.” Luke held up the pistol and pointed it at Peter. “Put down your weapon.”
Peter shrugged and lowered his weapon. “I’m more than happy to comply, but I have fifteen armed mercenaries out here that won’t listen. You may want to put downyourpistol or they’ll start killing your footmen… at least, the ones that are still alive.” He smirked cruelly as he tucked the pistol into the waistband of his trousers.
Taking advantage of Peter being distracted, Emma slid her pistol into the pocket of her white gown.
Luke placed his gun on the bench. “I am willing to pay whatever amount you think is fair to keep Emma safe,” he proclaimed, his jaw clenched.
“You don’t have to worry about Emma anymore,” Peter said. “We are to be wed.”
“No, we are not,” she replied defiantly. “I refuse to marry you.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Peter declared.
“Peter…” Her words stopped when Peter reached in and grabbed Luke by the lapels of his jacket, tossing him out of the coach.
“Luke!” she shouted as she climbed out of the carriage.
She’d barely set a foot on the ground when she froze at the scene in front of her, completely taken aback by the dead bodies of the liveried footmen surrounding the coach. They were sprawled out, their void eyes staring back at her. A loud grunt of pain brought her back into the present, and she turned to see two ruffians holding Luke by the arms as Peter repeatedly hit him in the face.
“Stop, Peter!” she shouted, running up to him.
To her surprise, Peter turned and slapped her hard across the face. She crumpled to the ground.
“Don’t get involved in my business, woman,” he snarled. “Downshire took you from me and it’s time he gets what he deserves.”
Placing her hand to her burning cheek, Emma shouted, “He didn’t take you from me, I chose to leave!”
“Yes, and I will deal with you later,” Peter remarked, removing the pistol from his waistband. “But first, I must kill him.”
“No!” Emma shouted, jumping up and running to stand in front of Luke. “Don’t kill him. Please!”
Peter kept the pistol pointed at her. “Step out of the way, Emma.”
