"You are mistaken, love," he replied tranquilly. "At Seven Oaks your postboy, instructed by me, turned off the Tunbridge Road in the direction of the secluded country house which our good friend Aarons offered me the use of, for as long as you wish to occupy it. That is where we are going now: it depends on you how long we remain there."
"In that case," she retorted promptly, "we will not remain an hour—a minute—in fact, we will not go there at all. I protest that rather than go another yard with you, I would walk back, barefoot, to Seven Oaks, or even to Tunbridge."
"The choice is not yours, Prudence," said Sir Geoffrey, his smooth voice in strong contrast to the black frown, that shadowed his face at her imperious tone and the indignant energy with which she repulsed his advances. "This time I will not be balked; I am resolved to give you no further opportunity of fooling me."
Prue laughed contemptuously. "Do you think you can marry me by force?" she cried. "What priest would marry us when I tell him the truth?"
"By the time you have been my guest for two or three days you will, no doubt, prefer returning to court as Lady Beaudesert, the heroine of a romantic marriage, to braving the scandal of a mysterious elopement as the frisky Widow Brooke."
"Villain!" she ejaculated. "I would brave any scandal rather than marry a wretch capable of such treachery!"
"We shall see," returned her captor, at the same time thrusting his head out of the window and calling to the postilion, "Stop, fool, is not this the ferry? See the inn yonder and the boats." The coach came to a standstill and Sir Geoffrey's man jumped down from the rumble. "Go rouse the landlord and call up the ferryman," said his master; "bid him hasten if he would earn a guinea for his services."
The moment the carriage stopped Prue began to scream, "Help—oh! help—is there no one here to help a poor woman in sore distress?"
"No one, dearest," replied Sir Geoffrey, opening the door and alighting in the dusty highway, "except your devoted lover and slave. Will it please you to descend? We have but little farther to go, and that by water."
Prue crouched back in the farthest corner of the coach. "I'll not leave this carriage until my cries bring help. Help—oh! help!"