FREE! In The Arms of My Enemy (Completed!) Book 1

Stalker

Bath, England, 4 November 1812

"It's that man again," Lottie said, rousing Fidelia from her thoughts. William had been gone for four weeks now, and Fidelia found her mind wandering to him more and more with each passing day. Where was he? Was he well? Had he been cap­tured again? That thought filled her with worry.

"Who?" Fidelia said, blinking. She paused in her walk and looked around, suddenly wary. The doctor had replaced her crutch with a cane, and she leaned heavily on it as she peered through the crowd.

"That one." Lottie pointed up the street to a dark corner. "He's been following me on my walks with Miss Palmer."

A man in a ragged, dusty hat leaned against a building on the op­posite side of the street, arms folded, watching them.

Fidelia's heart pounded painfully. "Don't let him know you've seen him." She grabbed her sister's hand and pulled Lottie behind a crowd of young ladies. "I've noticed him before, too. We're both being followed."

Lottie's breath hitched as she clutched her notebook of inventions. "Are you certain?"

Fidelia nodded. She reached for her father's pistol, only to realize in disgust that her new wardrobe of gowns was frustratingly without pockets. Blast that countess and her fancy styles!

"To the house." Fidelia pulled her sister along as fast as she could, trying to block Lottie with her body. "Quickly." Although she had found his lurking presence merely annoying on her own walks and thought she was safe enough in Bath, the knowledge that this man had also followed Lottie filled Fidelia with fury. She would not toler­ate any harm coming to her sister.

Fidelia's ankle ached from the sudden exertion, but she and Lottie slipped past a group of young ladies and down a side lane. Thank­fully, William's four-story Georgian house was only a few streets over, but the cobbled boulevards were crowded. Fidelia used her cane to poke and prod people out of her way. Once they reached the cream-colored building, Fidelia pushed her sister up the stairs, pausing to look around carefully.

She spied the flash of a dark cloak—not uncommon for the chilly weather, but—there! Across the street, watching her from the shadows, stood their pursuer. He must have followed them back to the town house, despite their attempts at evading him. He emerged from the shadows and approached slowly, confidently, like he was a cat and she was a mouse already in his claws. He paused at the base of the neigh­boring stairs, close enough that she could see his face clearly. She raised her chin and glared at him. A slow grin caused a fresh pink scar on his top lip to move, contorting his face into a snarl that sent a chill down her spine.

"Fidelia!" the countess said from the door, her voice raised in an­noyance. "Stop standing around and get up here! The guests will be arriving in a couple of hours."

She ignored her mother-in-law and watched the man warily. At the sound of the countess's voice, he turned and vanished into the crowd. Fidelia tightened her hold on her cane in agitation, knowing she'd never be able to follow him.

"Fidelia," the countess repeated, "the tea party!"

Fidelia looked up at the countess and groaned. The tea party. She had been trying to ignore that dreaded event. She glanced once more around the street. It should have comforted Fidelia that the man had given up his pursuit, but it instead made her even more afraid. He had been following Lottie, and no good could come from that.

Fidelia handed her bonnet and gloves to a maid as she limped past the countess to make the arduous climb up the stairs to her bedroom. Three flights of stairs were entirely too many for one house.