who was enjoying an ale and a bowl of soup at a small table by one of the sash windows. There was only one other patron—another fair-haired, younger gentleman seated by the fire who still wore his well-cut garrick coat and beaver hat. His face was in shadow, but she could see he nursed a glass of spirits. When he took a sip, the contents of his glass glowed like sunlit amber in the firelight.
“What’ll it be, lass?” the publican asked, claiming her attention. His hooded dark eyes were hard with suspicion. “Ye canna stay here unless ye intend to purchase something.”
“Of . . . of c-course,” replied Olivia as she dug out her coin purse from her reticule. “How . . . how much is a glass of small b-beer?”
The publican smirked and gave her another appraising glance. Even though her stammer was an endless source of amusement for many people, and she should be used to such reactions from strangers, she still never failed to feel a hot blast of mortification; her whole face burned, and she knew that her stutter would only grow progressively worse.
“It’s on the house fer you as I havna seen a tangle-tongued lassie who’s quite so bonnie.” The publican gave her a wink and then pulled her beer from a keg behind the bar. “Here ye go. Take a seat wherever ye’d like.”
Olivia picked up her drink with a murmured thanks and headed toward one of the vacant tables by another window. While part of her was irked at the publican’s condescension—she would prefer to pay for her own beer—she was also grateful she wouldn’t have to head out into the rain. It had grown heavier in the last few minutes and lashed against the windowpanes in driving sheets. With any luck, by the time she finished her small beer, the downpour would have eased.
She removed her bonnet and gloves and placed them carefully upon the vacant seat beside the window. And that’s when a long, dark shadow fell across the table, making her start.
Had the publican changed his mind and decided to charge her for the beer after all?
Olivia frowned and glanced up. And then her heart all but stopped.
It wasn’t the publican.
It was Felix de Vere.
“Hello, dear c-c-cuz,” he murmured as he claimed the remaining vacant seat by her left elbow. His hand slid onto her thigh beneath the table and squeezed. His blue eyes gleamed with malice. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her tongue had ceased to function at all, and her breath froze in her lungs. Terror like she’d never known snaked its way down her spine and curled through her belly. Dark spots began to dance before her eyes.
She gripped the edge of the table so tightly, the wood cut into her palms. Hold on, Olivia de Vere. Because if you do faint, all will be lost.
Felix leaned closer, his grip tightening on her leg, and whispered in her ear, “You’ve led me a merry dance, haven’t you, you sly little bitch? But that’s all about to end. I’m taking you back to London.”
Olivia swallowed past the boulder-sized lump of fear in her throat and forced her mouth to work. “How . . . how did you f-find me?” Her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, but Felix understood her all the same.
“When it was discovered you’d absconded, Bagshaw mentioned she thought she’d seen someone at the bottom of the garden in the hour or so before dawn. I found the gate you must have used to gain entrance to Lord Sleat’s residence. Bagshaw also mentioned your friend’s bloody cat had gone, so when I questioned one of the scullery maids at Hastings House, she reported that one of the marquess’s liveried footmen had dropped the cat off that very morning. One of Lord Sleat’s grooms also confirmed that his master had just departed for Skye with his newly employed nursemaid and that he would likely take the toll road passing through Gretna Green. I don’t know how you managed to persuade someone like Lord Sleat to spirit you away, Olivia, but I’ll concede it was a fine feat.” Felix’s mouth twisted into a knowing smile. “But then again, perhaps the marquess thinks you are a bonnie lassie like the publican here.” He pinched the inside of her thigh through her gown and petticoats, and Olivia gasped at the pain. “I’ve never heard the term ‘nursemaid’ used as