Your Darkest Dream (Blackwood & Friends #2)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

By the time Blanche clambered inside her carriage that was to return her to the Blackwood's residence the following evening, it was late and she was exhausted. The day had been filled with shopping in the morning and meeting with Diana to explain, as sensitively as she could, why she would be unable to reside at Rothford House. Together with Nate, Blanche had concocted the excuse that due to the number of callers she was likely to receive because of their engagement, it would be best to receive them at her family's townhouse on Grosvenor Street . Diana had been politely aloof during the interchange, though thankfully no argument had followed- which was a relief for Blanche.

The rest of the day she had entertained numerous callers, as expected, that had flooded the receiving rooms of her family's townhouse, as well as spending dutiful time playing with her nieces and nephews who were all congregating under the same roof as their doting grandmother until their jaunt in London came to an end, followed by a hastily attended ball hosted by the esteemed Lady Carrington, at the insistent behest of Lady Blackwood that both her and Nate attend for appearance's sake. Nate had even managed to dance with her twice and she had taken much amusement at the pained expression on his face as he did so. But when it was time to retire, she was forced to accept that she would probably have to forego an attempt at venturing out of her chambers and joining Nate in his that evening at The Den.

Her mother, Kathleen Blackwood, was a different force to be reckoned with entirely. Nate had been slightly put out by that but his overall relief that she wasn't residing at Rothford House overrode any disappointments on that front.

As the door of the carriage closed and she lurched backwards against the swabs, a yelp of fright escaped her lips.

The last person she expected to share the small, confined space with her was Lord Edwin Rawdon. The panic at seeing him coolly reposed opposite her, his face swathed in the shadows of the evening and the interior of the carriage, compelled her to react instinctively, her hand darting out and gripping the latch of the door, intending to throw it open and hurl herself out-

"Don't," he drawled coldly, his own hand curling tightly around her gloved wrist and yanking her back so ferociously that pain flared through her arm. He rapped on the ceiling with the other and the carriage lurched out onto the street. "You and I are going to have a little discussion tonight."

She was thrust back against the seat with a brutal finality, but he released her as quickly as he had latched onto her. There was a pounding in her ears and the fear that wracked her body made her limbs stagnate in frozen inertia. The panic that had seized her mind made every thought a riotous tangle, writhing with a madness that made it impossible to grasp hold of something tangible and allow it to settle.

"It would be in your and your fiancé's benefit to hear me out," Rawdon was saying, a smirk curling his lip that hinted at the detest he harboured, for her or for Nate- perhaps both. Blanche's fingers clenched and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, her lips suddenly and terribly dry. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't find the words to say anything to him.

It was the culmination of her worst nightmare- being alone with him again- and it was more wholly terrifying that she could ever verbalise. The shadowed interior grew thicker and she pressed her shoulders into the swabs behind her, ineffectually attempting to place as much space between her and the man opposite her as possible. She did not dare to remove her eyes from his finely attired person in fear that he moved suddenly and launched himself at her. She was panicking, she realised, as a cold sweat broke out over her skin and her breathing turned into shallow, desperate little gasps.

She was panicking and it was making her dizzy, giddy, as if she were going to swoon.

"If you do not," Rawdon continued in that same snide, cold voice while Blanche fought wildly against her reeling body, "you will find your Mr Southill in an unfortunate predicament. You see, it would be very easy for me to take away something you have... just like that." He snapped his long fingers for emphasis, the sound drawing her attention so suddenly she almost started in fright. But it was the talk of Nate, of the threat to him, that finally allowed her distraught senses a moment of clarity and she latched onto it like a starved animal.