"After you, my lady."

Trevor pushed open the door to their room at The Copper Keg and offered her entry, sweeping back his hand as if it were a grand suite.

It was anything but that.

The whole room seemed to creak as Emilia walked across the old floorboards. Surveying its contents, she noticed the barely lit fire in the corner and immediately darted toward it, hoping the meager flames might still warm her.

The two of them had entered the inn under the guise of fake names and scant belongings. No one would assume that they were the offspring of an earl and duke, not in their bedraggled stated. Instead, they were Mr. and Mrs. Morgan. Trevor had assuredly made the point that they were married so that it would not appear odd that they were traveling together.

"Let me help you," Trevor said, coming up behind her. Emilia could feel his breath on her neck as he reached around to undo the clasp on her cloak. Letting it drop to the floor, Trevor then took her hands in his, and she could feel his fingers carefully untying the tight knot which had bound her.

After a few moments, Emilia's hands were released, and relief spread through her muscles. She stretched her arms and rotated her shoulders, relishing in the freedom.

"I will give you a few moments to yourself," Trevor said before backing out of the room once more. "I shall be just outside the door."

Emilia scowled, knowing that he had added that to push any idea of escape from her mind. After the door clicked shut, she glanced to the foggy, opaque window. It was small...but certainly large enough to fit through.

Quickly crossing the room, Emilia carefully inspected her possible escape route. The window was fastened tightly shut, but after some work, she was able to wiggle the rusty clasps loose and swing the window open. A startling screech accompanied the motion.

She grimaced at the loud noise.

"You would never survive that fall, Lady Emilia," Trevor's muffled voice said through the door.

Emilia scowled toward him, swearing beneath her breath. But she knew he was right as she swiveled back to peer over the window ledge. Their room was on the second level of the inn, and it was a long way down to the muddy ground.

Unfortunately, no one was passing below, or else she would yell out to them. The courtyard was decidedly empty. It wasn't a surprise, considering the weather. The rain bringing people indoors also meant that the tavern on the main level was loud and boisterous, drowning out noises from above for the people within it.

She scowled once more. She was stuck.

Emilia busied herself with other tasks, then, once she was sure that Trevor would not barge in after hearing the window creak open. She attempted to squeeze out any excess water that still remained in her bodice, finally emptied her overfull bladder, and pinned her hair back from her face. Then, she sat by the fire again.

"May I enter?" Trevor asked through the door.

She thought about that for a moment, wondering what he would do if she said no. Ultimately, Emilia decided it was not worth it.

"Yes."

Trevor walked in, giving a wary check around the room until he found her next to the hearth.

"I shall get us some food," he said. "Do you have any preferences, my lady?"

"May I not come with you?"

Trevor sighed deeply, running his hand over his face before scrubbing at his eyes in frustration and exhaustion. "No, my dear. We already talked about how I cannot trust you not to do something that will jeopardize this."

Emilia frowned and wrapped her arms around her knees, mumbling to herself about how no one trusted her with anything.

Her mind couldn't disconnect with what Trevor had told her about Will, King Ernest, and the blackmail. She understood now why Will had wanted to distance her from it, but why could he not have simply told her that? Why had he lied?

Emilia did not think that Trevor had heard her mutterings, but then he laughed lightly and said, "Did you not just try to escape through the window? I cannot imagine I would have heard it open for any other reason considering the cold and rain."

Emilia shot him a glare but did not respond to his question. He knew the answer.

"Come here," he said softly.

"I am fine here, thank you," Emilia muttered, turning back toward the low blaze of the fire.

The floorboards creaked, and Emilia knew he was walking toward her. She could even feel the shift of the floor beneath her as Trevor approached. A hand slid through her arm, wrapping itself around her elbow and tugging upward. It wasn't done with enough pressure to hurt, but Emilia was forced to stand up from her sitting position.

"What are you doing?" she asked, throwing an annoyed look at Trevor.

"I do not want you trying to break your neck going out that window," he said tersely as he dragged her across the chamber. Positioning her in front of the bedpost, Emilia realized he meant to tie her up again. She attempted to jerk her arm out of his grip, but he was far stronger than she and held it fast.

"Let go," she growled.

"It is only for a few minutes," he explained, his eyes pleading with her to stop resisting. "Only until I return with supper."

Emilia had no intention to stop fighting anytime soon, however. She whipped her freed arm around and smacked him in the face. Trevor jerked back in response, a surprised look spreading across his handsome features. The grip on her shoulder, however, remained strong.

Emilia suspected that he might be angry with her, but he merely shrugged and said, "I suppose I deserved that."

"You suppose, do you?" Emilia cried incredulously.

Another shrug. "Yes, I suppose." Both of Trevor's arms enveloped her then, pulling her hands behind her back, tying them quickly and tightly to the wooden post. Emilia scowled as she tried to wiggle out from beneath his demanding hold.

It was useless.

Trevor left her side momentarily to grab the rucksack that he'd brought up to the room with them, procuring another rope from it. He made short work of tying her ankles together, as well.

Stepping back, he surveyed his work to ensure that Emilia was secured. He gave a perfunctory nod and then briskly retreated from the room with the promise that he would be back shortly with food. As soon as the door shut behind him, Emilia strained against her bindings, hoping to break free.

But again, it was useless.

Emilia gave up and waited for Trevor to return, thinking there would be plenty of opportunities to escape during supper.

Emilia also tried to think about ways to not think about Will.

Unfortunately, when one was tied to a bedpost, it was hard to distract oneself.

She wondered if Will knew about her "elopement" and how he had reacted. He must have been relieved that she finally listened to him about marriage.

Emilia also wondered what Theo had thought upon seeing Trevor's note, especially considering how she told him that morning that she had no interest in marrying Trevor. Even if Theo thought there was a possibility she had changed her mind and really did want to marry Trevor, Emilia figured he would still come to find her simply to ream her out for pulling such a stunt.

She hoped Theo would make it to her—and soon.

Her thoughts continued to spiral from Theo to Will to Trevor for what seemed like hours. Emilia's body had started to ache the minute Trevor forced her arms behind her back again, and now they had begun to fall numb entirely.

Leaning her head back, Emilia wondered if something had gone wrong.

But then the door burst open, banging against the wall, releasing bits of splintered wood as it did. Trevor stumbled through it.

"What took you so long?" Emilia shot out at him before her voice died away, noticing that not only was he carrying no food, but in its place was a very large tankard.

"I've brought you something," he said, his words tumbling from his mouth as he walked in a jagged line toward her.

"Oh dear God," Emilia breathed. "You're completely drunk, Trevor!"

"Do not worry, my dear," he slurred, kneeling down next to her, spilling part of his drink on the floor. "I shall share." Emilia turned her head to the side as he began lifting the tankard of foul-smelling liquid up to her mouth. Trevor's reactions were too slow, though, and he knocked the cup into her chin, spilling it over onto her neck and check. Emilia groaned.

They were zero for two on the drink assists today. Not that she wanted to drink whatever he had now.

"I do not want any," Emilia protested when he still hadn't moved the cup away. "Is that ale?"

"Yes," Trevor replied, taking a sip himself. "'Tis."

"No wonder you were taking so long," Emilia muttered.

Trevor gave her a slow look, peering over the large mug of ale, eyes boring into her. "I haven't had any liquor for weeks," he finally said. "Couldn't help myself."

"Why?" Emilia knew very little about liquor, but she did know that Theo indulged in a glass of something or another most nights. Though she wasn't sure if she had ever seen him as drunk as Trevor was right now.

"Been holding off," Trevor grumbled, taking another sip. "Coz I can't afford to make more gambling blunders. And for you, of course. Trying to prove your brother wrong and whatnot."

He slammed the tankard down on the ground and scooted closer to Emilia. "You must be uncomfortable," he murmured, more to himself than to her. He reached around her, pressing his face against the side of her head in the process. His breathing was harsh and hot on her ear as he untied her.

Emilia felt uncertain about Trevor being as drunk as he was, but she wasn't going to argue with the chance to stretch her arms forward once more. She relished in the feeling of freedom for precisely five seconds before Trevor grabbed her wrists and brought them together in front of her, tying them once more, his fingers fumbling a bit as he did.

Emilia frowned even though Trevor seemed quite pleased with himself. "There, that should be more comfortable."

When Emilia made a sort of choked laugh, Trevor whipped his head up, and their eyes caught.

He matched her expression, frowning too.

"Why does it have to be like this?" he complained, whispering the words. "We could be good together, Emilia. We could be good." One hand rested on her shoulder, his clumsy fingers toying with the sleeve on her day dress.

Emilia did laugh then—sharply and without humor. "You are forcing me to do things against my will, Trevor. We shall never be good together."

Trevor copied her expression again, a garbled chuckle releasing from his throat. "Hardly, my lady. I have—I have hardly forced you to do anything."

Emilia opened her mouth to argue that point further—she certainly had not purposefully traveled to this inn miles outside of London—when Trevor clapped a large hand to her cheek and jerked her forward.

"What are you doing?" she choked out.

"Showing you what I mean," he slurred before pressing a sloppy kiss against Emilia's lips. His mouth was hot, tasting of stale alcohol and despair. She tried to yank her head to the side, but he grabbed her chin, holding it still as he continued his assault on her mouth, attempting to force his tongue into it.

Emilia pushed at his chest with her tied hands, but he was stable even in his inebriated state, not budging one bit.

Finally, his lips broke apart from hers, and his hand trailed down to her bodice. He gripped it tightly, his curled fingers brushing the rise of her breasts. But she barely had time to shrink back from his touch before he ripped the fabric down the middle, leaving it gaping open.

"Trevor!" she gasped. But he wasn't paying attention to her anymore. He was staring at the damage he had just caused. "Stop this!" Emilia continued to say. "You're—you're too drunk! This isn't you."

Her voice began to shake, and she tried to catch his eye. Emilia tried to push against him, move away from his disconcerting touch, but his hand was still on her chest, pressing her back into the post. Trevor simply sat there, looking dazed, bewildered.

When he finally did jerk his head up, his eyes glittered darkly, and Emilia felt dread. His hand began to reach out to her once more, and not knowing what to expect, Emilia reacted. Her tied fists drew back and hit him across the face with enough force that he fell backward against the dusty floorboards.

And then he did not move for some time.

****

Will and Theo surrendered their horses to the stable boys and stomped their way through the muddy grounds to the entrance of The Copper Keg.

Wandering through the door while drenched and covered in muck earned them an instant glower from the man behind the front counter. He had salt and peppered hair with wrinkles around the corners of his eye, and his mouth was pulled back in a disapproving, grim line.

Though Will was confident that Theo noticed it, the duke ignored the man's cold welcome and greeted him instead.

"Good evening, sir," Theo said in a booming voice. "We are worn from the weather—"

"I can see that, I can," the man cut in, dryly.

"—and looking for accommodations."

The elderly gentleman, who Will assumed was the inn's keeper, spent a long minute examining them. Finally, he said, "I've only one room left this evenin'. Not the only ones lookin' to escape the weather, you are."

"Yes, fine," Theo said impatiently, "we shall take whatever you have to offer. We are also looking for some other travelers." Theo leaned in close to the innkeeper, providing him with a detailed description of Emilia and Trevor in a low voice.

Will saw immediately when there was a spark of recognition in the old man's eye and wasted no time in bellying up to the counter next to Theo, eager to hear what he might have to say.

"Aye, there was a man with that description drinking himself to the bones not a half-hour ago. Came in with his wife, just as you say she looks, earlier this evenin'."

"Is he still here? Are they still here?" Will demanded.

"They are," the innkeeper said, nodding.

"Where? What room?" Will asked, leaning over the counter further. Theo gripped the back of his coat and pulled him backward.

Cutting in, he said, "What my friend means to ask is whether there is the possibility that we might speak to them?"

The innkeeper considered them, rocking back on his heels and stroking the thin beard on his face.

"What's it to ya?"

Theo looked slightly annoyed but began to pull out his coin. Irritated, Will pushed it aside, throwing himself across the counter and grabbing at the innkeeper's shirt. "What's it to you to keep this inn?" he whispered harshly in the man's face. "My name is Lord Trotten, I'm close with the bloody king, and if you knew what was good for you, you'll tell us where our friends are."

The man threw his hands up in a defensive action, and Will dropped him.

"Lord Trotten, you say?" he asked, eyes wide.

Will ignored the question. "Where are they?" he asked again.

"Room twelve, up on the second floor," he said, fixing his shirt while regarding Will warily.

But Will was already moving toward the stairs, Theo right behind him.

"People legitimately know who you are outside of London?" he whispered as he tried to keep up.

"There aren't many men who have a blacker reputation than I. If he pays attention to politics at all, I suppose he would know." Will shrugged. "I did not think he'd actually recognize my name."

They strode quickly through the tavern on the inn's main level, weaving their way through boisterous drinkers and worn tables and chairs. Their drenched boots marked the wooden floors as they went, but there was enough spilled drink to accompany their mess that Will didn't feel bad.

Honestly, he didn't have room for any feelings other than a mix of anxious dread and excitement. Emilia was in this building. She was just upstairs, and he had to get there. He had to see her, hold her, take her home.

Will took the stairs two at a time, reaching the top quickly and spinning around to look at the numbers on the doors.

"Nine...ten...eleven," he muttered, desperately trying to find number twelve.

"Over here!" Theo called in an overly-loud whisper. Will whipped around to see Theo jiggling the door handle, testing to see if it was open. It was.

Wasting no time, Theo pushed through the doorway, barging into the room. Will followed closely behind, entering into the lowly lit bedchamber that held meager furnishings and an equally inadequate fire.

Will's heart leaped as he heard a feminine gasp, his eyes immediately scanning to find the source of it. Lord Trevor was sprawled across the floor, breathing deeply with his eyes closed.

And then...there she was.

"Emilia," he breathed.

He could breathe again.