“That’s enough, Northfield,” Kenneth commanded, stepping in front of her, shielding her with his body. He glared at her enemy. “Leave. Now.”
A snarl on his face, Lord Northfield took a deep breath as the glare in his eyes promised retribution. Squaring his shoulders, he raised his head, looking down at them with unconcealed disgust. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.
Closing her eyes, Charlotte took a deep breath. Although she held no hope in her heart for herself, she prayed that Kenneth would not suffer for his gallant heart. Who knew of what else Northfield was capable?
“What is going on, Charlotte?” Kenneth asked, his warm eyes searching her face as he held his handkerchief pressed to her wounded hand. “What just happened?” The look in his eyes told her that he was not referring to her bleeding hand.
Swallowing, Charlotte forced a smile on her face. “Nothing.” She shook her head, unable to look him in the eyes and lie. “Everything’s fine. Let me just go and take care of this.” Withdrawing her hand from his, she stepped around him and hastened toward the door before he could object.
Tears burned in her eyes, but she held them back until the solitude of the corridor engulfed her. Then the dam burst, and all the pain and misery of the past fortnight poured down her cheeks.
Unable to hold back the agonising sobs that tore from her throat, Charlotte fled through the first door she could find and retreated to the very back of the library, hoping that the distance would drown out her sobs. With hands curled into fists, she leaned back against a tall bookshelf, resting her head against its precious volumes, before her knees gave in and she sagged to the ground.
Then she heard the door open and footsteps approach.
Instantly, Charlotte froze, her sobs stuck in her throat as images of that one fateful night flashed before her eyes and her heart doubled over in pain. Not again! Her mind screamed, and she pushed herself to her feet. Had he come after her as he had then?
“Charlotte? Are you in here?”
For the second time that night, Kenneth’s voice washed over her strained nerves and put them at ease.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte swallowed as her heart hammered in her chest. “I’m here,” she whispered, all strength gone from her body.
Footsteps echoed closer, and then Kenneth stood before her, his dark eyes searching her face. “Tell me what’s going on? What did he do?”
Averting her eyes, Charlotte shook her head. “Nothing,” she insisted in a feeble voice as she could not bear the thought of him looking at her the way her parents had. Not him. Not Kenneth. She needed him to look at her the way he always had. Only then did she stand a chance to come out of this with her soul intact.
As she tried to step around him, his hand settled on her shoulder and held her back…and Charlotte loved him for it. For knowing her so well. For being able to tell that something was wrong. For wanting to help her.
His other hand settled under her chin and gently tilted up her head. “Look at me,” he whispered, and when she finally did, a soft smile curled up his lips. “Tell me, and I will protect you.”
Wishing with all her heart that he could, Charlotte felt herself begin to tremble. “You cannot. There’s no way. You have to let me go.”
The expression in his eyes hardened. “Let me be the judge of that,” he said, his voice insistent. “Tell me. Did he say something to upset you? You’ve been acting strange for the past fortnight. Ever since the night of Lord Radcliffe’s ball, you’ve been…” His voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The way he spoke to you…” His eyes drilled into hers. “What did he do to you?”
Blinking back fresh tears, Charlotte shook her head. “That doesn’t matter now. I−”
A strangled growl rose from Kenneth’s throat as he stepped back, his hands balling into fists. Pacing the floor in front of her, he clenched and unclenched his hands, occasionally running them through his hair as though trying to pull them out by the roots. His eyes were dark and threatening, and the pulse in his neck hammered with such speed that Charlotte feared for him. Never had she seen him in such a rage.
Then he stopped his frantic pacing and came to stand in front of her, holding her gaze for a long time as though needing one final confirmation. Then he spun around on his heels and stormed toward the door. “I’ll kill him. I swear to God I’ll kill him.”
At his words, panic seized Charlotte’s heart and she rushed after him. “No. No. No. Please, don’t,” she pleaded, reaching for his arm and pulling him back to face her. “Please, I beg you. Don’t do this.”