"What do you mean?"
Griffin picked a newspaper and passed it to her. Anne gazed at Pedro's picture and lifted her eyes to her brother, searching for answers on his face. "He was... he was arrested? Griffin, Pedro is innocent. I told you! I saw everything. Please, you must help him."
"It is time that blackguard paid for his crimes." Her brother stood and adjusted his coat.
Anne grabbed his arm, tugging it desperately. "Please, he has no one else."
"You won't change my mind."
"Then I must go myself."
Her brother ignored her. "You will board theHMS Victoriafor Liverpool tomorrow. Until then, you will take your meals inside your bedroom."
Anne raced to her room and shut the door. Her legs collapsed beneath her, and she bit the side of her hand to contain her scream. She couldn't allow it. They could not hang an innocent man.
She brushed away her tears and forced herself to stand. She had no time for despair. She must speak with the king. Many said he was a just monarch. Anne chose a sober day dress and arranged her hair into a severe bun at her nape. Surreptitiously, she checked the room by her side. Julia hummed softly, folding her clothes into a valise.
She could speak with her sister-in-law and ask for help. Though Julia could be counted on to understand, Anne didn't want to cause her problems with Griffin.
James padded close to her and nibbled her leg.
Anne crouched and kissed his furrowed brow. "I'm sorry, James. You cannot go this time. But Julia will take care of you, I promise."
Anne emerged from the dark foyer into the bright Rossio Square, the sunshine leaving black spots in her vision. From her Lisbon brochures, she knew the king resided atop a hill by the city's east side. She placed her hand atop her forehead to shield the light and located the neoclassical facade. The windows glinted like tiny stars, leagues away from her.
All her logical reasoning dissolved like frost in the harsh morning sun. Would the king even receive her? Ignoring her doubts, she sprang into motion.
Clerks and storekeepers hastened with their overcoats strained over their chests. Patrons shouldered her out of the way. Carriages passed, their harness jingling, the hooves pounding inside her head. The Americano tram sped through the avenue, sounding the bell. If she could catch it, she would reach the palace in a fraction of the time.
When Anne crossed the street, a dog cart screeched to a halt an inch from her chest. Heart speeding, she apologized for her clumsiness and weaved through the traffic.
The streetcar reached the crossing.
Her legs protested as she increased her speed, confined by the narrow skirt of her dress.
Four feet from the tram, a figure trapped her attention. The man whohad come to the beach house after Pedro. She remembered his ferret face. His gaze caught hers, and a flare of recognition sparkled in his leery eyes.
Her mouth went dry, her hand coming up to touch the top of her head. In her haste, she had forgotten a bonnet, and though her hair was pulled up in a tight chignon, the coloring stood out like a beacon.
Anne gave up the tram and moved in the opposite direction, tripping over the hem of her dress, her breaths coming in short bursts, the constricting corset fighting her breaths. She left the main street and entered a side alley, hoping it could give her a better cover, and glanced over her shoulder.
No one had followed.
Gasping, she leaned her back on the scratchy facade of a building, closing her eyes in relief.
A cloth clamped over her mouth. She didn’t have time to scream before alcohol invaded her nostrils. And then she couldn't think anymore.
The ropes chafed Anne's wrists and ankles. Gray light poured from slits in the heavy drapery. On her stomach, hands tied behind her back, she lifted her chin to inspect her surroundings, but the movement made the room spin. She rested her forehead on the satin sheets, wheezing her breaths.
"Can you untie my hands, please?"
"So polite." A rough hand circled her neck and pulled, lifting her head. "How is your poor, poor mother? You are an excellent actress. It's a pity Ulrich has his eyes set on you. But after he is done..."
The ferret man tapped her cheek, and his fetid breath made her recoil.
She fought the dizziness and stared at her assailant's face. Black, opaque eyes oozed malice. A wave of nausea washed over Anne, and she controlled the impulse to retch. His hatred slapped her in the face. She had never been the recipient of such animosity in her life.
Anne considered her options. She needed out of here, but trussed up, her chances of escape were dismal. "Do you think your master will approve if my skin is brutally chafed?"
