Page 56 of The Duke of Pain

“Gideon is not behind this.”

Whether she made the declaration to convince herself or to make the point to Yellow Teeth, she was not sure.

Olivia’s mind swirled in confusion. One moment she was convinced Gideon had nothing to do with this abduction. The next, she cursed his callous dismissal of her.

“What do you know of His Grace? He’s a spoiled, pampered aristo who uses up people and spits them out,” Yellow Teeth snarled. “They all do it.”

“Please, let me go.” Her voice shook. Cold, raw fear gripped her.

“We’re taking you back to Whitechapel to be among your own. Now, shut your gob. You’re lucky I didn’t let him in here with you. He’d have you bent over the seat quick as brass.”

This could not be happening. Even though Olivia kept repeating in her mind that Gideon could not be behind this, the sliver of doubt grew, its cruel tentacles curled about her heart.

If he did, then that bit of trust that had built between them had just been smashed to bits.

Along with her heart.

Before she knew it, Olivia was dragged from the carriage and into a dark alley. She tried to get her bearings but could not ascertain her exact location. Whitechapel, to be certain, but what street was anyone’s guess. She could hear laughter, raised voices, and bawdy singing. Could she be near a pub? If so, then she could be anywhere.

Blinking, Olivia tried to make out any nearby buildings and chimney-stacks when Yellow Teeth’s meaty fist pounded her mid-section. Her blurred vision could make out Wool Trousers standing nearby, cackling while he rubbed his crotch.

Another punch sent her reeling, and she sprawled on the wet, grimy cobbles.

The spring late-night air was cold and damp, and the odor of rotting rubbish wafted from nearby overflowing bins.

A boot slammed her ribs, and Olivia cried out in agonizing pain. Her carpet bag hit her in the chest and fell to the ground.

Olivia grabbed onto it as a shipwreck victim clung to debris to keep from drowning in the cold ocean.

“Here, she’s softened up. Bend her over the crate there,” Wool Trousers hissed.

“We haven’t time for this—”

“Bugger that. A couple of quick thrusts, then you have a go.”

Olivia’s insides twisted in revulsion.

No.

Her head spun, and her vision was hazy and doubled. Wool Trousers lumbered toward her. Olivia frantically looked about for anything she could use to bludgeon them. All she had was the bag.

That would have to do.

Wool Trousers wrenched her to her feet and spun her around. With all the strength she could muster, she swung the bag in a roundhouse blow, knocking the wretched man in the head.

He staggered, then fell to one knee, cursing all the while.

Olivia didn’t hesitate; she thrust her leg out, hoping to disable him by kicking him in his man parts. Instead, the blow landed in his chest area. Wool Trousers cried out, and she gave him another swat with her carpetbag.

But it wasn’t enough to debilitate him.

The man scrambled to his feet, and grabbed her arms. Olivia struggled the best she could, kicking and flailing. But he was too strong.

“Enough of this,” Yellow Teeth hissed. “We’ve got to go—”

“Here! What are you two doing?” a woman’s voice rang out. “There’s a copper round the corner. I’ll whistle for him, yeah?”

The men backed away, and Olivia fell to the ground, her wobbly legs unable to hold her weight.