Strike at Midnight(7)

A loose rock was my downfall as I stumbled in my heels. My slipper came flying off and I had no time to stop and pick it up when the sound of my name came once more. I raced off into the maze and took a quick left, then right. All to try and lose one man and catch another.

The sounds of the castle clock started to strike midnight above us, and I was grateful when Lemonade Guy’s voice started to fade away in between the gongs. Hopefully, he had given up on the chase and would make his way back to the safety of the ball.

The small pebbles beneath my feet hurt like hell when I stopped to remove the other slipper, but I’d suffered worse. I kept going and used the moonlight as my guide to navigate through the high hedges.

As I got deeper into the maze, I paused for a minute. The imposter duke’s footsteps could still be heard, and it gave me all I needed to track him. The predictable asshole didn’t disappoint as he ran east, and the sounds of his movements urged me in the direction of his exit.

After a few dead ends and curses later, I finally broke free from the maze. He wasn’t that far ahead of me as I saw him running across the expansive gardens outside of the Royal Castle. I could see that he was heading towards where all the carriages had parked up for the evening, and I needed to catch him before he could jump into one of them to hasten his escape.

My running may have still been hindered by the dress as I chased my quarry down, but because of the soft grass that was now beneath my feet, I was closing in on him.

There was always my dagger that sat snugly against my leg that I could throw in his direction to slow him down. But then I would risk facing a potential murder charge, and things like that could get a bit messy around here. At the thought of throwing something, however, it finally registered that I had the remaining glass slipper in my hand.

A rush of wind came before I could second-guess myself, and I watched as the slipper sailed through the air in the imposter duke’s direction. It made one hell of a sound when it hit the back of his head, and my sore feet itched to do a little victory dance. The imposter duke dropped down on the grass with a thud, and I raced over to him before he could get up from the hit.

There was a carefully planted ribbon on my dress that would be a perfect substitute for the lack of manacles, because not every job allowed me the opportunity to carry them with me—like now.

The imposter duke groaned at the force of me tying his hands behind his back, and he was probably feeling the symptoms of a throbbing headache. It helped that he was only semiconscious because he was extremely compliant in me getting him up off the grass and leading him to the carriage I had hired. He staggered with the effort of it, and he almost dropped to the floor when I let go of him for a moment to retrieve my slipper. But we made it the rest of the way without any issues.

The waiting footmen helped me get him into the carriage, and it rocked with the motion of him collapsing on the seat from the effort of it. We both must have looked a sight, but they didn’t question me. They just closed the door behind me then banged the door to alert the driver that we were ready to roll.

My captive groaned as he lifted his head to lean it against the wooden frame, and his eyes flickered as if he was in genuine pain. Good.

Maybe he would think twice in the future about messing with a girl wearing glass slippers.





CHAPTER THREE

Bed Time in a Bar





My feet hurt, my head ached, and fatigue was starting to kick in.

I had spent the last two hours at the jailhouse with my prisoner, waiting for Sir Raymond to arrive. The law-enforcement officers had reluctantly let me sit with the imposter duke in their waiting area because they had refused to book him in until the knight had arrived to validate my story.

The officers had graced me with a few smirks and ogles while I’d waited, but my glare still had an effect on the younger ones. Threats of ripping off some balls had worked with the others.

The imposter duke had gone to sleep, and the nice side of me had checked his breathing every now and again. The sadistic side of me didn’t want to bother, but the rational side of me didn’t want to be arrested for murder, either. It wasn’t a good idea to let a man you had hit with a glass implement die by the side of you in the middle of a jailhouse.

Relief had hit me when Sir Raymond had walked in and listened to my version of events. It gave him the confirmation he had wanted that there was no birthmark—which I had double-checked in the carriage—and also the facts of the Duke’s change in demeanor and fleeing the scene to support his concerns.

We then arranged to meet the next day at one of the nicer inns in town to sort out my payment and next steps. Hopefully by next steps he meant hiring me to find the real duke because that would mean another fee for me without waiting for another job to turn up.

After giving him an update, I said my goodbyes and left them to it. The urge to get home, have a drink, and get this gown off me was warring with the fatigue that threatened to take over soon.

It didn’t take me long to get to where I lived above an inn called Melodies. It was owned by my friend, Marcel, who had renamed it after my other friend—and roommate—Melody when his dad had passed away two years ago. Before then, it had been called The Snake Eye Watering Hole and I could completely understand Marcel’s reason for changing it.

He and Melody had experienced a brief fling when she had first arrived here, and it had ended as quickly as it had begun. But they had remained good friends afterward and she had stayed on as the nightly entertainment with her sultry vocals stirring up the patrons.