“You can call me whatever you want, but I will be a rich man; far richer than our mad King George.”
Mustering up all the courage that she had, she tilted her chin, hoping she sounded convincing. “You won’t get away with this.”
A cocky smile came to the man’s lips. “I already have. There is no one who can stop me.” He walked over to the door and stopped. “Your faith in your brother and Lord Roswell is misplaced. I would be more concerned about fearing me.”
“I do not fear you,” she lied.
The man opened his jacket, revealing a pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers. “If you try to escape, I will kill you,” he growled. “If you even make a sound, I will ensure you don’t speak ever again. Do we understand one another?”
She nodded slowly.
“Good, because I am not one who likes to repeat himself.” The man opened the door and the distant sounds of men’s voices wafted in. “Below us is where my men like to spend time. There is no one here that will help you.”
With that, he exited the room, shutting the door behind him, and locking it. She jumped up and approached the window. It faced an alleyway and she felt discouraged when she realized they were on the second level. She saw the nails that were jammed into the sides of the window, preventing it from opening.
She tried to remove a rusty nail but it wouldn’t budge. The sound of the door unlocking caused her to jump back down onto the straw mattress.
The door was opened and Octavia was shoved into the room.
“Make yourself comfortable,” the man mocked before he closed the door.
Anette rose and rushed over to her friend. “Are you all right?” she asked.
Octavia bobbed her head. “I am, but I do not understand what is happening.”
“That man wants to kill Roswell and Caleb,” she replied, hoping her friend could handle the truth. “And us, too, if I am to guess.”
Fortunately, she had read her friend correctly and was pleased that she hadn’t turned into a simpering miss. “We must stop him,” Octavia declared, her eyes roaming over the room.
“I agree, but I am not sure how,” Anette said. “The window is nailed shut and we can’t go out the door or else we will walk right into the hands of the enemy.”
Octavia blew out a puff of air. “There is always a way. We just have to find it.”
Anette took stock of what was in the room. Besides a pitiful, lumpy mattress, there was a chamber pot in the corner. There wasn’t anything that they could use to fight off an attacker.
Moving to sit down on the mattress, Anette asked, “How did you come to be here?”
“Mr. Barnard brought me,” Octavia replied. “He used the guise of a carriage ride through Hyde Park to do so.”
“So Roswell was right about Mr. Barnard.”
“Apparently, so,” Octavia said. “I do not want to hear him tell me ‘I told you so.’ I don’t think I could take that, especially now.”
“Well, it turns out that Roswell and Caleb are both supposedly spies,” Anette revealed.
Octavia’s eyes grew wide. “That is impossible. Who told you that?”
Anette gestured towards the door. “The man who is keeping us here.”
As she sat next to Anette, Octavia said, “I wonder what else Roswell and Caleb are keeping from us.”
“I don’t know, but I hope they find us in time.”
“They will.”
Anette knew that Octavia’s words were meant to be encouraging, but all she could feel was dread, knowing her captor had every intention of killing her brother and Roswell.
Roswell was angry. And the worst part was that he was mostly angry with himself. Why had he made that blasted promise to Caleb? Staying away from Anette hadn’t protected her from danger. It had practically led her straight to it.
