“There ain’t no gentlemen here,” a few of the men grumbled.
“Perhaps, but the war has turned a tide. Napoleon has defeated some of Wellington’s troops and I have heard that he is running scared,” Caleb said. “We need to celebrate! The next round is on me. And they will keep coming until we can’t remember tonight.”
A collective cheer went up around the room as the men held their tankards up in the air. “To Napoleon!” the men shouted.
“To Napoleon!” Caleb exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.
Caleb gave Roswell a pointed look before he approached the patrons at another table. He slapped one of the men on the back and started conversing with him.
Mr. Barnard rose and said, “I think that is my cue, as well. You better go before anyone notices your absence.”
Roswell didn’t need to be told twice. He rose and walked towards the stairs, being mindful to keep a watchful eye on the patrons. They may be drinking, but they didn’t appear to be entirely incompetent.
He hurried up the steps and saw that there were four doors in the hall. He opened the first door, revealing an office of some sort.
The second door and third door were living quarters. Which meant there was only one door left. He approached the door and turned the handle. Locked. He crouched down and removed the metal pins that he kept in his pocket for occasions such as this.
He shoved the long, thin pins into the lock and slowly turned them until he heard the click. He returned them to his pocket and opened the door.
Roswell saw Anette and Octavia were sitting on a straw mattress and they both gasped when their eyes landed on him.
Octavia jumped up and ran to him. “Roswell,” she said as she embraced him tightly. “I knew you would come.”
His eyes strayed towards Anette and he saw her hair was terribly disheveled, her dress was ripped and her fair skin had a fairly decent coating of dirt. But to him, she had never looked more lovely.
“Anette…” he started, “how are you?”
Anette reached up and smoothed down her hair. “I am much better now that you are here,” she said.
Octavia stepped out of his arms and asked, “How did you subdue all of those men below us?”
Roswell winced. “We haven’t,” he admitted. “But we have a plan.”
“Is it a good plan?” Octavia asked. “I only ask because you have already missed a crucial part of what should be the plan.”
A smile came to his lips. “It is good to have you back, Sister,” he said. “I have missed your impish remarks.”
Octavia returned his smile. “I am glad that you are here, even if I am concerned about this plan of yours.”
“We are going to sneak you down the stairs and out the back door,” Roswell explained. “With any luck, everyone will be too busy drinking that they won’t give your presence any heed.”
“Where is Caleb?” Anette asked.
Roswell gestured towards the hall. “He is distracting the men below, but he isn’t alone. Mr. Barnard is with him.”
Octavia did not look pleased by that information. “Mr. Barnard is not who he says he is. He abducted me and brought me to this place.”
“What? Are you sure about this?” Roswell asked. Had he been so distracted by Octavia and Anette’s abduction that he failed to notice the threat that was right in front of him?
“I am sure I know who abducted me,” Octavia said dryly.
Roswell needed to think. But as his mind started whirling, he realized that it was quiet. Too quiet. “Do you hear that?”
“I don’t hear anything,” Octavia replied.
“Exactly,” Roswell said. “Why did everyone grow quiet?”
Mr. Barnard’s voice came from the direction of the stairs. “You may as well join us down here, my lord,” he mocked. “And bring the ladies. They will want to see this.”
