The Gilded Cage Read Online Free PDF

“Katherine,” she says in a whisper, and her hand tightens on my arm. The men are soldiers in smart uniforms. At five yards’ distance they step into the middle of the path.
    â€œWe thought you might want company,” says the tallest of the three, a man with a ropy neck and hair that looks nearly white in the moonlight. The other two are darker, and watch us with a hunger that’s worse than words.
    When neither Jane nor I respond, the tall man gives an exaggerated bow. “You both look lovely tonight,” he says. “That is the kind of thing you girls like to hear, ain’t it?”
    â€œGood evening, gentlemen,” I say curtly.
    As I try to lead Jane around them, they block our progress. I think about screaming. Someone would surely hear.
    â€œIt’s colder than expected,” I say, in a voice that’s steadier than I feel. “We’d like to return to the house.”
    â€œSurely you’d prefer to spend an hour in our company.” The man jiggles his bottle, which contains something stronger than wine. I can smell it. “We’ve got something that’ll warm you up.”
    I bridle at his words, and have a very Grace-like thought: Does he not recognize who I am? “Surely you’re mistaking us for some other women you’ve met tonight. My friend and I have no wish to enjoy your company.”
    â€œYou women like to think you’re so different, one from another,” says one of the dark-haired soldiers, a stocky man. “But when you get down to what counts, you’re all exactly the same.”
    I hear Jane’s intake of breath, and a flash of hot rage overtakes me. “If you’ve ever met a woman who has endured even a moment of your company by choice, then she’s nothing like me. I’d rather spend an hour with my head in a hornet’s nest.”
    In a flash, the shorter man lunges forward and grabs my arm. I slap his face hard, and he looks shocked for a moment before he reaches toward me again, his fingers hooking around my scarf. I lift my knee sharply, driving it into his groin.
    Though he moans in pain, he still keeps hold of me. As I struggle I can see Jane from the corner of my eye, frozen in place. The man’s smell—tobacco and liquor breath—assaults me as I cringe away.
    â€œRemove your hands at once.”
    The man’s voice, coming from behind us, is honey in my ears. Struggling against the soldier’s grip, I turn and see John, in his footman’s uniform but no coat, standing upright and empty-handed.
    â€œBugger off, boy, and polish some boots,” says the short man, letting me go to cradle the place between his legs. I quickly move to Jane’s side, rubbing the tender skin of my throat.
    John holds his ground, his face shadowed and unreadable. “First I’ll escort the ladies back to the front of the house,” he says.
    I hear the dreadful snick of steel as the blond soldier pulls his sword. “Walk away,” he says, his voice dripping disdain.
    John stands straighter, moving slowly toward us. “I will not,” he replies.
    Just then, Henry rounds the corner of the house. When he sees us he pauses a moment, his eyes sweeping over our figures in the moonlight and the drawn sword. Then he speeds forward, despite the painful-looking roll of his hip, moving his body in front of Jane’s.
    â€œYou call yourselves men of the king’s army,” he spits in a cold fury. “Put up your sword and leave at once, and do not expect to be welcomed at Walthingham again. You’ll be lucky if you don’t lose your commissions.”
    The sword wilts in the fair-haired soldier’s hand, and his two comrades step back, their heads bowed, but make no move to leave. Henry reaches down and grabs a chunk of rock, lobbing it at their feet as though he were driving off dogs. “Get off this property! Now!”
    The men slink back into the shadows of