How long had she been here? It felt like days, or maybe just hours. She had no way of knowing, since the room was pitch black. Beeston had left some time ago, but it had been almost as dark in the next room when he’d opened the door to leave. So it was difficult to know what time of day it was. Hannah had dozed off several times—it was impossible not to in such darkness. And now she’d completely lost track of time.

Deep breaths. She relied on them to keep her calm as she waited.

Waited for what? Death? Salvation? Graham?

Her heart ached as she thought of him. Was he worried about her? Did he know the truth now? That she hadn’t really been taking the laudanum? That it had all been a silly, foolish ruse to trap Beeston and give him a dose of his own medicine?

What a mutton-headed ninny she was! And now, she might never see Graham again.

The sound of muffled voices reached her ears—in the darkness, she heard everything. Were they in the apartment—if that was even what this was? Or were they…

Evan. That was his voice. She’d know that growl anywhere. They had come for her, but would they be able to retrieve her without a fight? What if someone got hurt? She’d never forgive herself if something happened to Evan or Graham.

Hannah fumbled around in the dark. She hadn’t dared do so before, but knowing they were so close, she felt emboldened. She felt her way across the floor, on hands and knees, toward the sounds of their voices. They were getting louder, they pounded on the outside door. Would Beeston open it?

She reached the wall and ran her hands up it, trying to find a door, a handle—

“Ah!” Hannah went flying backward, landing on her bottom, her face throbbing from whatever had been shoved into it.

“You stupid woman!” Beeston hissed as he scrambled into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Where are you?”

Hannah wanted to laugh. He really thought she was going to speak and give away her position? No, she had a better idea.

He was stomping about the room, clearly looking for her—she could barely make out his shadow—but if she moved just a bit to her left…

Beeston went tumbling over her in the darkness, crashing to the floor, taking furniture with him, in a chorus of grunts and grumbling. “Hannah!” he growled. “I’ll kill you.”

And she knew he would. Which was why she had to get out of there. With only a general idea of where the door was, she lunged toward it in the darkness, finding the handle and yanking it open. The rest of the place was dim, but at least she could see where the devil she was going now.

“Don’t you dare!” Beeston was after her, and with her bad leg, she had a disadvantage. But she had to try to get to the door. To Graham.

“I’m here!” she cried out as she hobbled through the apartment, overturning a small table and then a chair into the path behind her.

The door was within reach. She was going to make it.

But just as she reached out for the doorknob, Beeston’s hand closed around her wrist, yanking her backward with a sharp jerk, while at the same time, two men busted through the door in a cloud of dust and broken wood.

“Graham!” she cried, her heart soaring at the sight of him. Even covered in dust, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

“Hannah!” He began to step toward her, but halted just before Hannah felt the cool barrel of Beeston’s gun meet her temple.

* * *

Dear God. Graham had never been so terrified in all his life.

No, that wasn’t true, was it? He’d felt this before…the day his parents had perished in the fire. He’d just stood there, much like he was doing now, completely helpless. Unable to save them. Knowing that if he went into that burning building, he’d lose his life too and leave Daphne all alone in the world.

And now he was the one terrified of being left alone in the world. He couldn’t imagine life without her, without his Hannah. There had to be something they could do. But what? The man had a gun pointed at her head, and heaven knew he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if Graham or Evan made a wrong move.

He met Hannah’s eyes, clouded in fear, shimmering with tears and longing. Longing to be set free, no doubt. Her lip began to tremble, but she was trying to be brave. He could see that. She hadn’t given up. Not yet.

“Beeston,” the duke said, his tone cajoling. “This isn’t necessary. Put down the gun.”

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?” the man spat back, and Graham realized in that moment how deranged he was. The man was mad.

But Somerset ignored him. “Look here,” he said, pulling a coin purse from inside his coat and dangling it in the air. “You would never run out. It is far more than I offered you the first time.”

“You think I can be bought with a bit of coin?”

“A bit?” the duke raised his brows. “This is far more than any person truly needs.”

“Yes, but it’s not really what I want.” He pressed the gun harder into Hannah’s temple, eliciting a gasp from her.

Graham’s stomach churned. He was going to shoot her. Even just a slip of his finger and—

The shot was deafening. It rent the air, sending Graham and Somerset to the ground, confusedly trying to make sense of what had happened. Dear God. Hannah!