Page 104 of A Misguided Devotion

The third person hung back outside the door. “C’est quoi ça?”

Ignoring the pain in her thigh caused by the impact, Kitty held her breath as the Frenchman stared into the darkness. Had he heard her fall?

Hugh stuck his head out of the doorway. “What’s the matter, Loutrel?”

“A noise,” the man said in heavily accented English.

Blake called from inside the room. “I expect it’s a rat. Come and have a drink.”

Trying not to think of the rodents that might share the floor with her, Kitty shuffled backward until stopped by the unyielding coldness of the cellar wall. There was nowhere else to go.

“A moment.”

The Frenchman strode toward her in the dark. She winced as his booted foot met her knee. A hand came out of the darkness and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her to her feet.

“A very large rat!” he said, dragging her into the light.

Hugh’s mouth was tight, his eyes accusing. “Catherine, what in heaven’s name are you doing down here?”

Kitty stuck to the story she had planned. “I was curious to see Cousin Silas for myself, but when I came down here, the door was open and I panicked that there was a madman on the loose and lost my footing in the dark and—”

“Yet you didn’t call for help,” said Hugh. “I am disappointed in you, Catherine. Did you trust me so little that you thought I wouldn’t come to your rescue?”

Kitty gulped hard. What was he going to do with her?

The Frenchman disappeared through the doorway and returned, brandishing a pistol. “She’s been in here. Someone has stolen my journal.”

He levelled the gun at Kitty’s head, but Hugh batted it away. “You fool! There’s a riding officer upstairs. Do you wish to bring down the law on all of us? You can forget your ticket out of here if you’re going to land me with a charge of murder. Get some sleep. I’ll deal with the girl.”

The Frenchman withdrew into the room, leaving Kitty alone with Hugh, his face eerie in the dim light of the candle he held.

“Oh, Catherine. Why did you have to satisfy your curiosity? Now you’ve upset Loutrel, and I’m afraid the man’s got a short rein on his temper. He would have shot you if I hadn’t prevented it. I must press you once more for an answer.”

He reached out his free hand and cupped her cheek, giving her gooseflesh. “Will you marry me, Catherine?”

Kitty recoiled at his touch, bringing a scowl to Hugh’s face.

“Don’t be so hasty to reject me again. You’ve brought this on yourself. Marrying me is the only way I can keep you safe.”

How ridiculous! Marriage to a traitor was not safe. Better to die for upholding what was right than to live with such a man. “I could never marry you.”

“Still holding out for his lordship? I did not think you were so worldly. Droxford has gone, Catherine, and he won’t come back. Not for the likes of you. I am your only option.”

The mention of William had the opposite effect to that which Hugh intended. It strengthened her resolve not to submit to his bullying to save her skin. Praying to God for strength to do what was right, no matter the cost, she repeated her refusal.

“I will not marry you, and nothing you can say will persuade me to change my mind.”

He heaved a sigh. “Ah, what it is to be young and in love, but your feelings for Droxford will be your downfall. You leave me no choice but to hand you over into Loutrel’s care. Be grateful his lordship didn’t accompany you on this foolish venture. I would not have been so lenient with him.”

Tremors racked Kitty’s body as his words sank in. If William had come with her, Hugh would have killed him. And now, she was being given over to the mercy of the Frenchman. The man who had put a pistol to her head a few moments before.

“The journal, Catherine—or do you want me to leave Loutrel to retrieve it?”

Heat raced up Kitty’s neck and spread until her entire body was on fire. With her back to him, she extracted the notebook from her bodice. Hand trembling, she held it out, and Hugh snatched it away. He thrust her into the room ahead of him. What was going to happen to her?

Left to cower in the corner, Kitty fiddled with the lace edging on her sleeve until the aged garment started to disintegrate in her fingers. She would need to replace it soon—or maybe not. She would have no need of new clothes if God didn’t answer her prayers and rescue her from the clutches of these evil men.

At least they couldn’t hurt the man she loved. Dear William. Would she ever see him again? Judging from the French officer’s readiness to wield his gun, she doubted it.