He nodded dumbly, forcing himself to remain still. It had been months since any had approached him with other than hostile intent, and an unreasoning fear shook him at her proximity. His efforts failed when she extended her hand to touch the shackle, testing the key. Though his logical mind knew her for a friend and his only hope of freedom, the trauma of the last months had left their mark on his mind.
He lurched away from her, putting a hand out to stay her ministrations. “I will do it!” he objected. She frowned, then dangled the key before him so that he need not touch her hand to take it. He grasped it desperately, with a look of helpless apology before he bent his rigid fingers to their task. The key danced stubbornly all about the edges of the notch, shaking uselessly as he prodded about to set it home. The young woman lowered the lantern near, seemingly as eager as he.
At last, with a nearly frozen, grinding clank, the iron fell from his leg. Darcy dropped the key and could not help a spasmodic jerk, kicking away the last of his restraints as he flew to the far end of his cell. He stood—gasping in joy, deliverance, and glad disbelief.
“Come, Senhor,” the woman was beckoning. “My brother Ruy, he waits. He is to help you. You can ride a horse, yes? You are not wounded?”
He was self-consciously brushing his hands over his limbs—whether trying to shed himself of his filth or his captivity, he could not have told. “I believe I shall manage, madam.”
She sighed in relief. “Good. Now, come!”
He followed, as closely as he dared, but stopped at the threshold of his cell. “Madam,” he fumbled, “I must thank you.”
She turned, looking up to him with wide innocent eyes, sparking golden now in the light of her lantern, and for the first time he noticed the angry, raised mark on her left cheek. He tilted his head. “Madam, you are injured!”
She spun sharply away. “It was my own foolishness. Come!” Her strides flowing quickly, she fairly scampered from his presence. If he did not wish to lose the benefit of her lantern, he had no choice but to silence his objections and follow.
He obeyed, but a new concern darkened that cobbled way out of his cell. What price would this girl pay for his freedom?
“Takethis,senhor.Youwill no doubt be in need.”
Darcy, freshly attired and marvelously clean once more, held out a curious hand and found a small purse of coins thrust into it. He blinked at it in the darkness. Never had anyone else been required to give him a farthing—always it had been the reverse. He looked back to the young man before him—Ruy de Noronha, his name was. “I cannot accept. You have done enough already.”
The young man, a military man if Darcy’s judge of his bearing and manner were to be trusted, caught Darcy’s hand and forced his fingers to close once more over the purse. “No, senhor! You must. Traveling is expensive, no? Here is bread and wine for you—not much, but it is enough. Remember, two nights you must stay in this room. Do not go out! This is Tuesday. On Thursday evening, you must board the ship, but wait until dark. I cannot come back for you, or I will attract notice.”
He stood back, tilting his head and evaluating Darcy’s appearance. “Your beard you should trim neatly as soon as you may, but do not shave it, senhor. It helps to hide your face. No, you must take the money!” he repeated to his unwilling beneficiary. “You must look the part of a man of business, not an escaped prisoner.”
Darcy shook his head. “You are generous, but I have funds enough. I shall have no trouble in supplying my needs, even abroad, for my credit is more than sufficient.”
“They are not your funds at present, senhor!” The younger man tossed a coat toward him. “You must not use your own name at all, until you discover why it is you were captured. It is likely you are thought of as dead, so it will not do to disappoint anyone so soon. I wish to heaven I could tell you who it was, but this much I do know—there must be a great deal of money and not a little power at stake.”
Darcy grimaced and did his best to yank the coat over his frame. It was well-tailored, but not for him; and helpful as the young Noronha was, he did not seem inclined to play the part of a valet. Nor, for that matter, would Darcy have desired to be touched. “How came you to be involved in my rescue, if you know so little of the circumstances?”
Noronha scowled and offered a hat. “My sister.”
“Ah,” Darcy nodded. “She is a remarkable woman, sir. Her husband is a fortunate man, if he appreciates such a woman.”
The young man looked to have swallowed something vile. “Miguel Vasconcelos is as cruel as he is stupid,” he spat. “I suppose you did not notice my sister’s face?”
Darcy nodded, his stomach sinking. “I did. I am sorry, I had hoped such was not the case. Can she be protected?”
“I sent her in a carriage to our family home, but I must hurry to her so that my father does not order her back in the morning.”
Darcy’s hand fell from the hat he was adjusting, aghast. “Do you mean to say that your father would endanger his own daughter, after seeing with his own eyes the evidence that her husband was mistreating her?”
“I mean that my father owes her husband’s father a small fortune, as well as his position.”
Darcy sighed. “I have seen that very thing all too often. Is there anything I can do for the lady? Her sharp ears and courage have saved me, and I should like to do as much for her.”
“You have troubles enough of your own, senhor,” Noronha reminded him. “Unless I am mistaken, you will hear Vasconcelos’ name again, if you search well enough. I shall learn what I can here, and you may be certain that Amália will be listening for information as well.”
“But if she is further harmed—”
“I will kill the villain myself!” Noronha growled. “And I will make sure that he knows what his fate would be! Fear not for that, senhor. I must go now, before your absence is discovered and someone comes to search for you. Remember, do not leave this room!”
Darcy reluctantly gathered up the coins, secreting them in the pocket of the coat. “Sir, I cannot thank you enough—you and your sister.” His throat tightened. “You have purchased life again for me! Why would you take such risks upon yourselves?”
Noronha shrugged. “You have a sister. Would you not do anything she asked, even were it madness?”
