Chapter 34
Perry.
Her stifledoofon the stair behind him made his gut clench, and her name had come out muffled. Dear God, he couldn’t even reach to help her. He couldn’t strike out at Sir Richard. He had a foot free to kick but he might hit Perry by mistake.
His captor wrenched his arm, and all but dragged him down a corridor. Mildew and dust clogged his nose, and between that and his rage, and the damned gag, he struggled for breath. He’d settle up with this lump when he was done with the one grasping Perry.
Shaldon might want Sir Richard alive so he could pick through the schemes that tied the two men together. Shaldon might want to fight on, but maybe this score should be Shaldon’s last. For Perry’s sake.
Let this be done. He’d find his chance—a shard of broken glass, a razor laid out. He’d get out of these cords. He’d got out of worse before in bloody France.
Up one flight. Past one, two, three doors to a massive door on their right, this one oiled and dusted. Sweat crawled over his skin, and his jaw locked around the filth of the rag gagging him.
Being taken to the master’s bedchamber could not be a good omen for Perry.
His captor stood only as high as Fox’s shoulder, and walked with a rolling, side-to-side gait. He was thin-necked but thick in the chest. A sailor, Fox guessed, from the tail of an inking that curled up his neck, and a scar that reached under his chin. He’d have taken the lash, this one. A hired hand, and not a local free-trader either, unless he’d run off to sea for a spell.
His tongue stuck on the gag. Hell, he couldn’t even gobble the words to offer the man better wages to turn him before the rest of their company came.
They shuffled into a dingy room smelling of brandy and piss, and something worse. Mostly something worse, because Harv wasn’t here anymore to lick the Squire’s chamber pot.
Sir Richard closed the door and a locksnicked. He left Perry and went to the window, pulling back drapes. The sun had come out, and the midday light streaming in sparkled with dust motes.
Perry sidled closer, her jaw clamped tight, her hands buried in her skirts. The weapons were gone, they’d said, but she still had the ones he’d slipped into her boots. Maybe.
He caught her eye and nodded. If not, he’d think of something. That tumbler there would shatter just fine into sharp shards.
Sir Richard turned away from the window, his square face molded into a dour frown and punctuated by bruises and blotches of blood. The Baronet had found the injury in Kincaid’s left side and pushed that advantage. But even stung by his injury the night before, Kincaid was a master of the right hook, on or off balance.
Fox followed Perry’s line of sight and his hands curled into fists inside their bindings. The great four-poster bed was heaped with mangled linens.
“Light that brace,” Sir Richard barked to his man.
Fox’s captor growled low and went to the mantel.
Fox shuffled closer to Perry. She leaned her head onto his shoulder and angled her breast into his arm.
A fine, smooth, object slipped awkwardly into his palm. He fumbled, almost dropped it, and she steadied his grip.
“Don’t worry,” she breathed and her hands went to work untying his gag, tossing the foul thing to the floor.
“That’s right,” Sir Richard said. “Let him shpeak. We’ll hear what he hash to shay.” He shrugged out of his coat, barely wincing, Fox noted. The man was as much of an ox as Kincaid. No doubt Kincaid had landed a few blows to that chest, but there was no sign he’d cracked a rib.
Perry poked at him and turned around standing directly in front of him. She’d positioned him in a dark corner. He leaned his shoulders against the wall and began to saw at his bindings.
“Take off your gown,” Sir Richard said.
“What?” Perry squeaked. “What are you talking about?”
“Take off your gown. You’re going to give me what Felicity wouldn’t. And then you’ll marry me and give me Gorse Cottage and your ten thousand pounds a year.”
“Ten thousand pounds?” she croaked. “How could you possibly know—”
“Oh, come. Everyone knows. Take off your gown.”
“I’ll not do it. My father will kill you first.”
“I’ll kill you first,” Fox said.
