her chin, pressing into her skin until she was forced upon tiptoes. “You are quite attractive in a way.”
She opened her mouth to respond but could not fathom anything that would be suitable. Go to hell burned in her mind so she dropped her gaze again and bit back any retort.
“Submissive too, I see.” She heard the smile in his voice. A shudder threatened to tear through her, so she tightened her muscles. “I like that in a maid.”
Bile burned in the back of her throat. She wondered how many maids he’d forced into submission previously. No wonder the house lacked staff. If he could treat his wife so poorly, how would he treat those he saw as beneath him?
Something thudded against the window. He dropped the finger from her chin, and she gulped down a breath, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth. He frowned, moved over to the window and peered out. “Edge,” he bellowed down the corridor. “Have someone check the perimeter.”
“Aye, sir.” The man scurried past them.
Lord Pembroke glanced Freya over. “What’s your name?”
“F-Fiona, sir. Fiona Brown.”
“Indeed.” He looped both hands around her waist and drew her forcefully into him. His grip crushed, forcing the breath from her.
“Sir!” She gasped and put hands to his chest, ready to shove herself away.
Another thud at the window made him release her.
He cursed. “What the devil is going on?” He thrust a finger at her. “I like you. You’ll do a fine job here, I think. Be sure to come to my bedroom after supper. The sheets will need changing.”
Words worse than go to hell fizzed on her tongue but she bit them back and nodded meekly. “Yes, sir.”
She waited until he marched off before allowing herself to flop against the wall. She pressed a hand to her pounding heart. No wonder his wife wished to escape him.
A thud from around the corner made her jolt upright. She peered around the corner and let out a little yelp. Lord Huntingdon glanced her way. She hastened over as he gently closed the window and he gripped her arms.
“Are you well?”
“Yes, yes.”
“I was about to enter when he came out of his wife’s room.” His expression soured. “I rather wish I had now. Then he wouldn’t have put a hand on you.”
“I’m well,” she assured him, “but he is vile. Some of the things he said...”
Lord Huntingdon’s jaw tensed. “I do not doubt it.”
“Was that you making those noises?”
He nodded. “And now we have access to Lady Pembroke.”
“We should hurry. I’m certain it will not be long before one of the baron’s men returns.”
He took her hand and twisted the key in the lock then they slipped into the room. A woman turned from her position by the rear windows. “What do you—” She frowned. “Who are you?”
Freya stepped forward, a hand held up. “We are here to help.”
A red brow lifted. A delicate figure, porcelain complexion and beautifully cut clothing made her look every inch the charming, spoiled society lady. Evidence of her husband’s rough hand lingered on her sharp, elegant cheeks, almost hidden by red curls around her face.
Were it not for those marks, Freya would be hard pressed to think there was anything wrong in this woman’s life. She even had glittering jewels in her ears.
“A maid? I should think you are more likely to need help than I. I would leave if I were you. This is not a pleasant place to work.”
The earl stepped forward and she narrowed her gaze. “I recognize you.”
“The Earl of Henleigh, at your service. Your sister sent us. We’re here to help you escape your husband.”
She glanced at the door. “Not now you are not. My husband is coming. You must hide, quickly.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lady Pembroke pushed open a hidden door in the wall to the right of the fireplace. “In my dressing room. Quickly,” she hissed.
The handle of the bedroom door twisted with a creak. Guy snatched Freya’s arm and hauled her into the dressing room then eased the door shut behind them. He caught a glimpse of the baron through the gap of the door just before it shut.
It took all his willpower not to leap out on the man and pound him to a pulp for laying a hand on Freya. He clenched his jaw, glanced about the room and motioned for Freya to hide behind a row of gowns.
He tucked himself in next to her, the silks and feathers cocooning them in a soft, delicate shield of femininity.