Page 54 of Eloping With The Princess
“Yes.”
She moved the chair over to the wall to better reach the window, and something bumped the heavy door. The men were returning.
“Go now!” Jason said. He pulled himself to his feet even though he hurt everywhere. Blakely’s thugs had obviously hit him in other places besides just his head.
“If I’m gone, they have no reason to keep you alive. They intend to make me a widow,” she said.
“I know that. You let me worry about keeping myself alive. Our best chance is for you to go get help.”
The door swung open, and a large man came in. He caught sight of Jason standing and Isabel on the chair at the window.
“I’ll kill him,” he roared as he faced Jason. The man slammed a fist into Jason’s stomach, and he doubled over in pain.
“Go, Isabel, now.”
She took one final look at him, then jumped and grabbed onto the elevated window ledge. Balancing her hips against the ledge, she brought one knee up, then the other, and launched herself out the window.
The last thing Jason saw was her skirts snagging on something as she jumped free. Potterfield’s wife would know what to do. The man struck Jason again and again. Blood pooled into his eyes, and his remaining thought before he blacked out was that at least Isabel was out safely.
…
Isabel ran as swiftly as she could to the adjacent house and was relieved when she saw the number twelve next to the red door. She knew some of the men were following her; she could hear them shouting. She banged loudly on the door.
“Over here!” one man yelled from not too far away.
Again, she banged on the door. It opened and she found herself facing the barrel of a gun. Instinctively she held up her arms. “I’m Lady Ellis. My husband is with the Brotherhood. He needs help.”
A hand reached out, grabbed her, and pulled her into the house. The door slammed behind them.
Isabel’s heart pounded so fiercely, she could hear it in her ears. She realized the person holding the weapon was a woman about her size, although at least two decades her senior.
“Mrs. Potterfield?” Isabel asked.
The woman nodded as she bolted the door. She rang for a servant and gave explicit instructions to send word to Somersby, Lynford, and several other names Isabel thought she recognized. She tried to calm her breathing. Jason would be saved. Those men, his friends and colleagues, they would not allow anything to happen to him. But they didn’t even know where Jason was. Not yet. They might not get here in time.
“Come this way,” Mrs. Potterfield said.
Isabel followed her down the wood-paneled corridor. They entered a door on the right. It was a typical gentleman’s study, boasting a large desk and a few shelves. But instead of books, the shelves were lined with a myriad of weapons.
“My husband is a collector. Was,” she corrected herself. “I am still getting accustomed to the fact that he is gone.” Her eyes grew misty, but the older woman did not cry.
“I’m sorry for his passing,” Isabel said.
“He died doing what he loved. He was a hero to this country,” Mrs. Potterfield said, pride radiating off her petite frame.
“Yes, he was.”
“I know your husband. Have since he was straight out of the schoolroom.” Mrs. Potterfield smiled. “He’s smart and strong. He shall survive.”
Although Isabel believed the woman’s sincerity, the words did little to calm her. She glanced around the room. The weaponry ranged from daggers to pistols to swords to a fencing foil. Isabel’s throat tightened. She didn’t think she could be one of those wives who sat at home and waited for notice that her husband had been killed. Especially not because of her.
She grabbed the foil and ran out of the room with Mrs. Potterfield calling her name.
…
Jason was alone. He could no longer see out of his right eye. It was swollen and bloodied.
The stairs leading to the room where he was being held creaked beneath the weight of someone approaching. It was the same man who had been beating on Jason since he’d arrived. He grabbed Jason and yanked him upright.
