His Secret Slave to Chapter 70: This Is Your Fault

Chapter 70: This Is Your Fault

Then he stopped. His eyes moved from the tavern door to Livia’s pale face. Beaumont was inside.

If Richard called for help, Beaumont would co running. He would take her back and sell her to the old pervert.

Richard swallowed. Maybe... Just maybe, this was the escape she needed. Not the one she had wanted. Not with the man she had wanted, the one who had filled her head with impossible hopes. But an escape all the sa. Away from Beaumont. Away from the old man. Away from that cursed house.

"Ah fuck!!!" he murmured. He lifted her carefully into his arms. He carried her to the horse, settled her across the saddle, then climbed up behind her and held her firmly against him. He cast one last look toward the roof.

Still empty.

Then he turned the horse away from Beaumont’s tavern and rode off into the night.

anwhile, inside Beaumont’s establishnt, the girls were coming apart at the seams. They had fled from the roof, skirts gathered in their fists, faces pale. Now they were cramd into the back room, whispering so loudly it had stopped being whispering and beco panic.

"This is your fault," Martha hissed.

"My fault?" Anne snapped back. "You were the one who said push!"

"Okay, everybody stop!" Jane snapped. Jane stood near the table, hands trembling at her sides. She could still see Livia’s eyes, pleading, asking for the friend she thought she had. Jane swallowed hard. "I knew this was a bad idea in the first place."

Anne turned on her at once. "Oh, you knew? You knew? I thought you were her friend. Don’t stand there and act like a saint. You wanted her gone just as much as us."

"She is right," Martha said, breathing too fast. "You stood there. You didn’t stop us."

"I said it was excessive."

"Oh, well done. Put that on your grave."

"Shut up!" Jane snapped.

"No one will believe she jumped now," another girl said. "Not with Bess gone too."

Martha began to cry.

Anne pointed at her. "Do not start that."

"She’s dead," Martha whispered.

"Well, let’s go to Beaumont now," another girl suggested, words tumbling out, "and tell him they were both fighting and fell off the roof."

Anne stared at her. "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

"It could work!"

"Why would they be fighting?"

"I don’t know. Over the old man?"

"Livia did not want the old man!"

"Oh God... oh God!" Martha pressed both hands to her mouth. "This is not good. Nicholas will have to call the watchn. They will ask us questions."

"We have to get our stories straight!" soone said. "Why were they fighting?"

Jane closed her eyes. "Let’s just tell the truth," she said quietly. "The truth is more believable."

Every girl turned to her. Anne’s face twisted in horror.

"Are you crazy?!!!"

"Co on," Jane said. "Co with . I’ll handle this."

"You suggested telling the truth."

Jane shot her a look. "Try to keep up, doxy."

Martha wiped at her cheeks, shaking. "What do we say?"

Jane inhaled. Her mind was running faster than her mouth could follow. The lie had to be simple. Too many details and they would get in trouble. "Livia and Bess were fighting. They were fighting because Livia was getting all the attention." Jane pointed at them all. "Just act distressed."

Martha blinked. "I am distressed."

"Good. Keep doing that."

Then they hurried down from the upper floor into the tavern, where Nicholas Beaumont had the servants clearing tables and scraping the remains of the night into buckets.

"Mr Beaumont!" Jane cried, pitching her voice high enough to sound panicked. "Mr Beaumont! Hurry! Hurry!"

Nicholas turned from where he stood near the hearth, counting coin into his palm. At once his face soured. "What has gotten into you girls?"

Jane pressed a hand to her chest, gasping. "Livia and Bess were fighting because Livia was getting all the attention!"

Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. "I’ll ask again. What has gotten into you girls?" His voice had gone lower now, irritated and suspicious as he watched them gasping and huffing.

Martha burst into tears. Jane wanted to kiss her for it.

"They fell off the roof!" Anne blurted. "They’re dead!"

Nicholas froze. Then his face changed. "By God’s bones!" He shoved past the nearest servant and hurried outside, the girls trailing behind him. Jane’s stomach twisted as they turned into the small alley beside the tavern. "Stay there!" Nicholas ordered.

None of them argued. He walked further into the alley alone, his steps slowing as he reached the place where Bess lay.

"Oh, Bess...Oh..." Nicholas stood there for another mont, then looked around the alley. His gaze swept the stones, the wall, the shadows. He turned back to the girls. "Where is Livia?"

The girls looked shocked and turned to each other. It was impressive how badly they perford innocence.

Jane stepped forward quickly before any of them could make it worse. "They both fell. We saw them fall."

Nicholas Beaumont turned his head slowly toward her. The alley was narrow and cold. The faint light from the tavern spilled over the stones, barely reaching Bess’s still body. Above them, the roofline lood black against the night. He looked once more around the alley, then back at the girls.

"Unless I have gone half blind," he said, voice tight, "I have only one person here. Bess."

"Oh my God," one of the girls blurted, far too eagerly. "She must have run away!"

The other girls turned to look at her, horrified by the stupidity.

"One does not fall off a four-storey building and run!" he snapped.

"We don’t know where she is," Anne said.

Nicholas’s face darkened.

Jane forced herself to speak again. "Bess must have broken her fall, Mr Beaumont."

Nicholas looked down at Bess again, then up toward the roof. His jaw worked. "That piss!" Beaumont cursed, kicking at the dirt near the wall. "That ungrateful little—" He stopped himself, breathing hard.

(Brought to you by Mar King 1/3)