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“Who are you and what is your business here?” Charlotte demanded.
“You will find out soon enough, Duckie,” one of the men said. They drew up suddenly, one on each side of her mount and her blood went cold.
“You are too familiar, sir!” Charlotte said, as she circled her horse and looked for a way out of their blockade.
The first man crowded Jamari towards a tall row of hedges that stood between her and the nearest townhouse. “I am about to get much more familiar,” he said, and the other man laughed.
Fear bubbled up in Charlotte. She should scream, she thought, but before she could even open her mouth, the first ruffian gripped her horse’s reins and pulled her mount’s head violently aside. Jamari balked at the sudden movement, and Charlotte struggled for control. She let go the reins with one hand and slapped the man’s face with her riding crop. The blow cut his cheek just below his left eye.
“You will pay for that,” he hissed.
Charlotte swung again, missing. Sitting side-saddle, she could not reach on the opposite side of her horse, and the man moved out of range of her crop.
She tried to wheel Jamari from the men to gain the advantage, but the second man took hold of the reins and held her fast. She struck viciously with the crop, at his hand holding the reins and then his face, until the second of the ruffians grabbed her hand, twisting it. Her wrist gave an agonizing pop and she sucked in a strangled breath. The crop dropped to the ground and Jamari danced sideways as the second man pulled her from the saddle, and covered her mouth with a vile smelling cloth, muffling her scream.
She was too late, she realized. Too late to scream now. She kicked wildly. She missed the man and instead hit Jamari’s flank with her booted foot. Her horse jumped forward. Now that the ruffian had released the reins to capture Charlotte, her horse was free. He bolted with the kick to his side.
Home, Charlotte thought.Run home, Jamari. Only did Jamari know where home was here in London?
Charlotte’s vision faded, in the scent of the sickly-sweet smelling cloth. Her last thought as she faded from consciousness, was she should have screamed when she had the chance.
* * *
Charlotte rousedsome indeterminate time later. She had a raging headache. She was being held by an unfamiliar man. He smelled of garbage and urine, or perhaps that was the street. Where were they? Awareness returned slowly. Some alley in London, was all she could deduce. The thought was hazy and her limbs did not seem to work properly. She was not sure who the men with her were, or where they were. Still, concern was a distant and blurry thought.
The reality of her situation returned, as she found herself being manhandled into a waiting carriage. She struggled wildly screaming with all the air in her lungs. A cuff to the side of her head, stopped her cries, even as she realized that once she was held in a closed carriage the men could have their way with her.
“Don’t worry about it, George,” the other man said. “No one cares who screams in this part of Town.”
George shoved her towards the carriage.
Charlotte clung stubbornly to the side of the door, but her sore wrist was not up to the task. When had she hurt her wrist? She wondered distantly, as if the injury belonged to someone else. The men shoved her inside the waiting carriage without difficulty. A woman, without a gun was usually physically outmatched by one man. With two, Charlotte had no recourse, but to hope for rescue at some later point. Her brother, she knew, would not rest until he found her. She prayed, that he would not be too late. With that thought, she shoved her bonnet from her head and it tumbled into the spring mud beneath the wheels of the carriage.
“Henri wanted Keegain’s wife,” the driver of the waiting carriage said.
“His sister will have to do,” said the one who climbed into the carriage with her. The smell of him nearly overwhelmed her.
Lady Charlotte forced her sluggish brain to think. Griswold, the stable master, would have been quick to realize something had happened to Charlotte when Jamari came back riderless, but would the London staff know to send word immediately to her brother? Ruddy would come. Charlotte knew this. She only had to hold on. She reached for the curtains over the windows and got a slap for her trouble.
“He’s not coming,” the man beside her said, his breath stinking in her face. “Your brother is helping a poor woman who fell from her horse in Hyde Park.” The other men laughed and Charlotte realized that the hurt woman, was only a ruse to keep Randolph far from her. Charlotte knew Ruddy would never leave a woman in distress, but now each minute she was taken further from rescue. She struggled anew, reaching for the handle of the carriage. She was less afraid of a tumble from the carriage than whatever these men had in mind. After all, she had fallen from Jamari on so many occasions, she ceased to inform her mother of the fact. Mostly, all that was bruised was her pride. Now, something much more than pride was at stake. She half turned the handle of the carriage before the man grabbed her and hauled her back against him. He held her so tightly, she could barely breathe, but perhaps that was because of the stench of him.
Charlotte couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped her.
He chuckled at her fear.
“Why?” Charlotte asked, although her heart was ice. “Why are you doing this?”
“You’re worth a pretty penny, Duckie,” he answered, pulling her more firmly against him. Her heart stopped at the movement, and her eyes grew wide. “Please,” she began, but he only laughed again and used a bit of cloth to bind her hands. Nothing more.
Charlotte swallowed and tried to think. She knew that French spies had recently been kidnapping prominent ladies for ransom money. Her brother had caught some of the culprits last winter. Ruddy had not told her of the band of French spies, but Jane had related the story. And Jack, the footman, sans kitchen boy, could not hold his tongue to save his soul.
Charlotte was hardly ignorant of the dangers in England at this time of war. Was she to be part of such a plot? If that was so, at least they would not kill her. She tried to calm herself. They probably would not despoil her, either. They needed her alive and well to ransom. Alive, but ruined, Charlotte thought. Her reputation would be destroyed. No matter what happened to her person, she would still be ruined now. But I’ll be alive, Charlotte told herself.
The carriage jolted over some rocks and Charlotte steadied herself with a hand to the seat. Her bound wrist suddenly ached and she felt like she would burst into tears. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She would not give these villains the satisfaction of her fear.
* * *
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