Chapter Worthington's Plan Awry
“No, we’re not splitting up. Where I go the twins go. Don’t worry your poor head on it!” She spat. “But you should mind that Simon Worthington there tried to run Miss Carter down. Here, in-front of my home!” Nora exploded.
There’s your fire. He felt pride swell at her fortitude. There’s my wife.
Constable Nelson frowned. “I thought-Hold on.” He went to speak to one of the Guardsman before returning to Nora.
“Wasn’t him. He was doing parchment work with Mac Turner back at the office.”
Of course, he was. Deragan shook his head. Disgusted at the Constable’s incompetence.
“Mac Turner? He lied!”
Constable Nelson gave her a reprimanding look. “He works for the Grier Guard, Miss Bishop! I’ve known the boy a long while.”
“Well, he’s wrong then!”
No, he lied.
“He wants you out, Miss Bishop.” Constable Nelson’s lips tightened, and he crossed his arms.
Peering around the Constable’s girth, Nora saw Worthington in the carriage. His smug nose in the air.
“He hopes to see me grovel.” She grated. “He’d have me beg to let my family stay.”
“Perhaps it isn’t the worst option.” Constable Nelson shrugged. “A few words to him to save your home. Save your family from ruin.”
Don’t do it, Nora. He willed her.
She eyed him. Slowly backing in horror. “You know what he’s doing. You’re on his side!”
Constable Nelson gave a slight shrug. “It is what it is. Just ask him. Save your family from suffering. What could it hurt?”
“Until the next time. When he wants more!” Lips a thin line, she shouted. “Well, don’t I have a surprise for him!”
Yes, Nora. Go to Rosewynn. A biting wind stirred to life, flinging leaves across yellowing grass. The sky blackened and rain fell in torrents. Deragan nudged the elements without intending, in his excitement.
“Careful of the storm.” Nelson warned. “Out here is no place for a Lady.”
“I care not a whit for the storm!” She stalked across the grass, then the cobbles to bang on the window of Worthington’s carriage, with the side of her fist.
Smirking coolly, he turned a lever and pushed it open. “Miss Nora Bishop. Why…What can I do for you?” He sat back in his seat. Forehead casually propped in one hand, elbow resting on the door as he watched what was happening to the Bishops, with cool disinterest. His gold tunic glinted in the light from the lone candle in the carriage. Sharp hazel eyes were dark with malice.
“Go to Hell!” She slapped him.
He will. Eventually. Deragan grunted. Fighting to stay in place.
Smile dying, Worthington’s expression turned vicious. “You need to learn how to speak to your superiors!” He lunged out to grip her upper arm. Fingers cutting into her. “Or do you want kicked out?”
“I know what you just tried to do to Mera!”
Ignoring her, Worthington gloated. “Ask me what you can do to keep the house.” Triumph was written across his face.
“Good luck in that.” Her lip curled disdainfully.
His eyes flashed red in the dark carriage, making her gasp. “You’ve nowhere to go, My Lady. I own Meadowbrook! Besides, who’d dare take in my little trollop?”
Trollop! Deragan was breathing quickly. Black scales peeling through along his arms, beneath the sleeves of his slicker coat.
“You mean your father owns most of the town!”
Deragan nearly whistled at Nora’s quick dressing down.
Worthington winced.
Seeing she’d the upper hand, her voice lowered. “You know Nick never missed a payment.”
“Yes, but your father” He mocked. “Never made one. Even if good old Nicky Bishop pays the rest of his life, you’ll never be out of debt.” He gave her an arrogant snigger before releasing his painful grip to offer her his hand. “Give me what I want, and I’ll call it even.”
Don’t. Deragan willed her. I’ll protect you. I’ll take care of you.
If you just go to Rosewynn…Home.
She eyed the clammy white thing.
Go to our home, Nora.
“We’re not staying in Meadowbrook, Worthington.” She announced, watching his face go slack gleefully. “Apparently, as fate would have it, I’ve inherited property the Worthington Estate can’t touch.”
He reached to grip her again, but she jerked from reach and gave him her back.
Crossing the street, she tossed over her shoulder in a honeyed tone. “Must be deeply awful...Not getting your way.” She offered a mocking pout before giving him her back.