The Countess's Groom by Emily Larkin Page A

shutters, heaved up the sash window, and leaned out.
    The ground seemed very far below.
    Rose turned back to the bed, her heart galloping in her chest. If she took the two sheets and the bed hangings and tied them together... No, they wouldn’t be long enough. But if she tore them into strips and plaited them into a rope, then they might be.
    She worked feverishly, slitting the linen sheets with her penknife, plaiting the strips together, knotting them end to end. Midnight passed, and still her rope was too short. The bed hangings were next, cutting, plaiting, knotting.
    The clock chimed one o’clock. Rose tried to plait faster, her fingers fumbling with urgency. Will would be wondering where she was. Would he come looking for her and risk being seen? Or would he think she’d changed her mind? That she’d decided to stay at Creed Hall?
    Finally her rope was finished. Rose tied one end to a bedpost and bundled the rest out the window. She took the suicide letter from the secret cupboard and flung it on her pillow, grabbed the rubies and the banknote, and resealed the hidden door.
    Rose stuffed the rubies and banknote into the pocket of a dressing gown and threw it out the window. She tossed her slippers out. Her heart felt as if it were climbing up her throat.
    If she fell, she’d be dead. But her terror wasn’t of falling, it was of Will leaving her behind.
    Rose gripped the rope and clambered out the window. One minute and she’d be at the bottom. One minute. All she had to do was not fall for one minute.
    The narrow plaited rope slid through her fingers. She couldn’t keep her grip. She was slipping, the rope burning her palms—
    Her hands found one of the knots.
    Rose hung panting, bumping against the rough wall, her heart beating madly, terror choking her throat. I can’t do this .
    She heard tiny ripping sounds above her as the plaited sheets stretched under her weight.
    She had to do this. There was no way back, and she couldn’t cling here forever. The rope would break or one of the knots would give. She’d fall and die. And never see Will again.
    Rose took a deep breath and slid down another section of the rope. For Will . The rope slipped through her hands, burned—and then she reached another knot. Her heart hammered against her breastbone. For Will , she repeated. Another deep breath, another terrifying burning slide, another knot.
    It seemed that hours passed before her bare feet hit the ground. She fell to her hands and knees, gasping for breath.
    The sound of a clock striking two drifted on the night air.
    Rose stumbled to her feet. She was shaking so hard it took three attempts to pull on her slippers. She plunged her arms into the sleeves of her dressing gown, checked the rubies were still in the pocket, and ran.
    He’ll still be at the lake. He’ll have waited . But the panic was back, bubbling inside her. No, not panic. Terror. Terror that Will would have gone. Terror that he would think she’d changed her mind. That he’d leave without her.
    Rose ran frantically through the moonlit woods, scrambling and stumbling, pushing herself up when she fell. Her throat burned, her lungs burned, her rib cage burned—and still she ran. Finally she burst out of the trees. The lake was the color of silver.
    She halted, gulping air. Where was Will? Panic rose in a silent scream inside her.
    At the water’s edge, a figure moved. Pale hair glinted in the moonlight.
    “Will!”
    Will met her halfway, catching her in his arms.
    Rose clung to him, shaking, sobbing. He waited. He didn’t leave me .
    “It’s all right, love,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Don’t be afraid.”
    “It’s not that.” She tried to speak past the choking tears. “Boyle locked me in. I had to climb out the window. I’d thought you’d be gone before I got here.” Her voice broke on the last word.
    “Never.” Will hugged her to him more fiercely. “I’ll never leave you, Rose. That’s a promise.”
    Rose