Garden of Lies by Amanda Quick Page B

in the vicinity of the kitchen. The rear doors and the tradesmen’s entrance would be open to allow the cool night air into a room that was bound to be overheated with cooking fires.
    He made his way along the side of the house that faced the gardens, heading toward the far end where he assumed the kitchens would be located.
    Within a few yards he found himself in a section that was obviously not intended for the guests. There were no pretty lanterns in the vicinity but there was enough light from the windows and the moonlight-infused fog to allow him to forge a path through the foliage.
    He was nearly at his goal when he heard a woman on the other side of a hedge. She was hoarse with anger and a rising tide of panic but she did not raise her voice. Her accent was that of a respectable lady trying desperately to maintain her composure.
    â€œYou’re hurting me, sir. Please let me go. There are rules.”
    â€œThe rules don’t apply to the guests. You’re a whore and what’s more, you’re my whore, at least for tonight. I certainly paid enough for you.”
    The man’s voice was thickened with drink. Rage seethed just beneath the surface.
    â€œIf you don’t leave me alone, I’ll scream,” the woman warned.
    But she kept her tone low and something in it told Slater that she did not dare to shout for help.
    â€œYou stupid bitch,” the man snarled. “You know as well as I do that if you start yelling you’ll find yourself on the street. You’ll be taking your customers up against the wall in some filthy alley before you know it. Or maybe you’ll end up in the river like your friend a couple of weeks back, eh?”
    The observation was punctuated by a bark of harsh laughter.
    â€œWouldn’t you care for another dance?” the woman asked, trying to sound flirtatious.
    â€œI’ve had enough of dancing. Shut up. We’re going to get into my carriage and you will do exactly what I tell you.”
    â€œI’m not going anywhere with you. I can’t. None of the women from the Pavilion can leave the grounds. You know that, sir. The rules—”
    â€œDon’t quote the damn rules to me. You may look and sound like a lady but we both know you’re just a cheap whore.”
    â€œI’m going back into the ballroom,” the woman declared with shaky conviction. “
No
, you can’t force me to leave the . . .
mmph
.”
    Slater was quite certain that the man had slapped a hand over the woman’s mouth.
    â€œI’ll teach you to defy me,” the drunken man raged.
    Slater moved out from behind the cover of a hedge and saw the pair. They were dark shadows in the fog. The man was struggling to control the woman. He had an arm around her throat, choking her. She fought desperately but it was clear she was overpowered.
    Neither of the two noticed him until he gripped the assailant’s shoulder.
    â€œLet her go,” Slater said quietly.
    The attacker was so startled he released the woman and whirled around. He stared into the glary light, trying to see Slater’s face but that was not possible. Slater was careful to keep his back to the light, leaving his features in deep shadow.
    â€œLeave us,” the attacker hissed. “She’s mine. Go find yourself another whore. I’ve got plans for this one.”
    â€œShe’s not interested in your plans,” Slater said.
    â€œYou can’t have her.” The man peered at him, trying to see more clearly in the dim light. “Are you one of the bloody guards? If so, you can take yourself off immediately. This does not concern you.”
    â€œI’m afraid you are mistaken.”
    The assailant swung one fist in a wild, awkward fashion. Slater easily ducked the blow and came back with a short, hard punch to the gut. He followed it with a quick chopping blow against the side of the man’s head.
    The drunkard collapsed, unconscious,