Page 88 of The Devil's Accidental Duchess
“I already told you, my darling—you won’t get far,” Lord Ramsbury said as he grabbed the collar of her dress and began to drag her across the too-smooth floors back to the dining room and that chair.
This time, the ropes were already waiting.
He set her back down onto the chair, huffing and puffing as he lashed her wrists and ankles to it. She did her best to resist, yet she found herself bound regardless. Tied there until he decided it was time for them to leave for the north and the wedding she didn’t want.
“I think I might have to reconsider,” he said, his breathing ragged. A moment later, he called out, “Mr. Palmer, would you be so kind as to fetch the priest?”
No… Oh, oh no…
All of her hopes of Philip somehow coming to her rescue were soundly dashed. It seemed increasingly unlikely that he would notice her absence until the morning. By then, it would be too late.
By then, she would be the Marchioness of Ramsbury.
