A Scandal By Any Other Name

The traveling carriage rattled continuously over the hard, uneven country roads. The wooden wheels spun rapidly, eating up the miles between the Kingsley estate and the streets of London.

Inside the small, confined cabin, the air was incredibly thick and tense. The carriage ride was completely silent.

Delaney sat perfectly still on the worn leather bench. She turned her head slightly and looked outside the small glass window, watching the scenery blur past them. She saw bare, brown trees, green fields, and small, distant farmhouses. But she was not truly looking at the landscape. She was calculating the time and the distance.

Across from her, Lucas sat in total silence. His heavy fur-lined coat made him look even larger and more imposing in the small space. His dark eyes never left her face. He was watching her like a hawk watching a trapped rabbit. His left arm remained securely bound in its dark silk sling, held stiffly against his chest.

Above them, on the high driver’s box, the cold wind whipped around the two men.

Hamish sat perfectly straight next to the rough, hired driver. Hamish was completely alert. He kept his eyes scanning the road ahead and the thick woods on either side, waiting patiently for an opening. He could feel the ledger and the folded shipping manifest resting safely in his deep coat pockets. He knew exactly what he had to do. He just needed the carriage to reach the busy, crowded streets of London, where he could slip away into the crowds before Lucas could stop him.

The carriage journeyed on for another hour. The road began to narrow as they entered a thicker, more isolated section of the woods.

Up ahead, they got to a distinct fork in the dirt road. The main road continued straight toward the city, but a smaller, much rougher path branched off to the left, leading deep into the dense, dark forest.

The hired driver did not keep the horses on the main road.

Instead, he pulled hard on the heavy leather reins. The carriage jerked suddenly to the left. The horses began to slow down significantly, their hooves crunching loudly on the uneven, rocky ground of the side path.

Delaney frowned deeply as the carriage began to slow down in the middle of nowhere.

She turned away from the window and looked sharply at her cousin.

"What is going on, Lucas?" Delaney asked. Her voice was firm and completely demanding. She did not bother to hide her sudden, sharp suspicion. "Why are we stopping here? This is not the road to Mayfair. What is the meaning of this?"

Lucas did not answer her immediately. He did not look surprised, and he did not look concerned. He simply stared straight ahead, a cold, empty, completely dead expression on his face.

Delaney’s heart began to beat wildly against her ribs. She realized instantly that the hired driver was not just an extra hand. He was a paid killer.

Lucas slowly raised his good right hand. He made a tight fist.

He hit the wooden roof of the carriage hard, two sharp, loud knocks.

"Kill him," Lucas spoke loudly, his voice completely calm and utterly merciless, directing the dark command through the thin wooden roof to the man sitting above.

The rough driver nodded his head sharply, hearing the command.

Hearing this terrible, absolute command, Delaney’s hazel eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock. The blood ran completely cold in her veins.

Hamish was in terrible, immediate trouble. The thug was sitting right next to him on the high box.

Up on the driver’s seat, Hamish reacted instantly. His training kicked in. Before the hired thug could even fully draw the hunting knife hidden in his coat, Hamish threw a massive, brutal punch. His large fist connected solidly with the thug’s jaw with a sickening crack.

The carriage swerved violently as the men began to fight for control of the reins.

Inside the small cabin, Delaney was thrown heavily against the side of the wooden wall. She did not waste a single second screaming or begging. She knew exactly what she had to do. She had to get out of the carriage. She had to give Hamish the chance to run.

She scrambled across the leather seat. She reached for the brass latch of the carriage door. She wanted to leave the carriage immediately.

But as her hand touched the cold metal, a strong, heavy hand clamped down violently around her left wrist.

Lucas held her hand in an incredibly tight, bruising grip. His long fingers dug painfully into her skin right through her white leather glove.

"Going somewhere, Delaney?" Lucas sneered, his dark eyes burning with a wild, violent madness. He yanked her hard, pulling her forcefully away from the door and back toward the center of the cabin.

Delaney did not cry out. She did not try to pull her arm back gently. She fought back with every ounce of strength she possessed.

She twisted her body violently on the seat. She raised her right leg, the white silk skirts pooling around her knee.

She aimed directly for his greatest weakness.

With all her might, Delaney kicked his bound left sling.

Her soft white shoe connected perfectly with his severely dislocated shoulder.

The impact was brutal.

Lucas screamed in absolute, blinding pain. It was a high, ragged, completely unearthly sound of pure agony. His face turned completely white. The shock of the terrible pain forced his right hand to completely release her wrist. He fell back against the leather seat, clutching his useless left arm, gasping for air.

Delaney did not hesitate.

She spun back around. She grabbed the brass latch and pushed down with all her strength. She busted the carriage door open violently. The wooden door swung wide open, hitting the side of the moving carriage with a loud bang.

The cold wind rushed into the cabin. The ground outside was moving quickly as the frightened horses pulled the swerving carriage down the rough dirt path.