In the Devil's Bed (Sins of the Duke Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

darkened mass. She tried to stay calm. She tried.
    The carriage lurched to the right as it whipped around a corner, turning down an even narrower alley. Regan braced her hands against the velvet seat. She paused as her fingers brushed her umbrella.
    She grabbed it and clasped it firmly with both hands. The spokes, hidden beneath the black fabric dug into her fingers. The three-inch steel feral flashed in the darkness.
    It was all she had. . . God help her, she’d used it if need be.
    Though she was loath to use aggressive behavior, she was not about to let a bunch of ruffians kill her. She refused to give in. Refused to let her father’s hard work be for naught.
    The carriage jolted to a stop, throwing Regan forward. She threw out a hand, landing on the soft rug on the floor. The wind whooshed out of her chest, as dull whiteness flickered before her eyes.
    The clank of metal on metal and the thud of footsteps on cobblestone echoed in the night. Keeping a firm grip on the umbrella, Regan pushed herself back into the seat and edged toward the widow.
    Gray mist, like a solid wall of floating milk, masked her surroundings. A tall, stone building loomed like a phantom in the fog. Regan’s eyes burned as she fought against blinking. Her breath came in painful jerks.
    What now?
    The carriage door behind her squealed open, and before Regan could turn toward the sound, a hand grabbed the back of her gown just below her shoulder blades and yanked her out.
    She shrieked as she tumbled backwards out of the vehicle, her back to her attackers. Her elbows whacked the sides of the door frame and her cheek caught the metal step. Still, she kept a grip on the umbrella. She cried out as she landed on the wet ground, her knees cracking onto the rough stones. Sharp, white pain seared up her thighs and screamed in her joints.
    “Get the ‘igh kick up,” snapped one of the men from behind her.
    A pair of large hands dug into her ribcage and yanked her up to her feet. Everything around her momentarily swayed and the umbrella in her right hand felt heavy. Regan snapped her head up. The soupy fog blinded her for a moment.
    A shadow stood just beyond her view. “’Ello, darling. Did you get my love letter?”
    The deep, east side voice rumbled around her. Fear clenched her stomach. “Who. . .Who are you?”
    A laugh came from the shadowy figure. “Call me John, lass. John Smith.” His ghostly form bowed mockingly. “How do you do Your Royal Highness?”
    Regan fought against the hands still holding her, but they slid to her waist and lingered beneath her breasts. She sucked in a breath. She had to wait till just the right moment to use her umbrella.
    She tried to twist away, but he held her fast. The man’s fingers slithered back and sunk into her upper arms, pinching the skin just beneath her gown. He yanked her back against him.
    Regan tilted her head sideways, trying to look at the man behind her, but he was too tall.
    “Release me,” she growled. “Release me!”
    In answer, he jerked her back into his groin, tilting his hips against her.
    Regan flinched.
    Tensing her body away from him, she grated, “I don’t understand what you want. I’m only trying to help—”
    “Look ‘ere lads,” John proclaimed. “The toffy blueblood what’s educated don’t understand.”
    It was as if he were trying to keep her from seeing him. Her fingers coiled even tighter around her umbrella, keeping her hand from trembling. Not yet. She couldn’t use it yet.
    “I sent you a warning and you didn’t heed it. Apparently, a knife with a kindly note isn’t clear enough.”
    She had to reason with him. “I only seek to help—”
    “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what you do here. But my employer does.” His voice was like pebbles grating against each other.
    Her eyes searched the fog, trying to see him. “Your employer? Who—”
    The fog slowly parted and a man stepped forward revealing a figure from a hell and damnation play. A black