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“Uh,” Matthew’s voice hemmed. “We’ve got a problem.”
Lord Edward burst into the room to find Caroline well and clearly awake. “How much have you heard?” he demanded, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him. Caroline bit back a cry as pain shot through her jaw at the rough grip. She would have bruises the shape of his fingers no doubt.
She only shook her head to indicate that she had not heard a thing.
“Liar,” he dropped her chin but only to smack her with the back of his hand. “I bet you thought it entertaining when I showed interest in you,” he snarled. “Thought it was funny that you are what… my mother now?”
Caroline only glared in reply.
“I always wondered why you acted like you were better than the other maids,” he mused. “A real maid would have leapt into my bed at the first hint of an offer but, no, you were too good for that. Here I was thinking you preferred my brother but really you were just biding your time and having a good laugh at my expense. Who have you told?” He shouted the last bit so harshly that she flinched.
“No one,” she breathed in truth.
“Another lie,” he slapped her again.
“I knew your house was teeming with snakes,” she shouted right back at him. “Why would I trust anyone that was put there by you?”
“Ah, so you aren’t the usual dense female.” He grinned. “That works to my advantage. Unfortunately, now you know far too much.” He turned to the faces that had gathered in the doorway. Caroline was not surprised to see his valet among them. How thankful she was that he had not been present to serve the duke’s sickbed and administer the poison. “Plans have changed. You’ll have to kill her. The good news is, everyone thinks she was killed months ago. Weight her down and throw her in the Thames.”
Lord Edward had stalked from the room after giving his firm order. An argument had ensued in his wake about who exactly he had meant to carry out the deed. Apparently, neither of the men wanted to soil their hands with the murder of a duchess. They would certainly get the drop for such an act if they were caught. After much heated discussion the decision had been made to leave two men to guard her while the Madam Mildred went to retrieve her man. Caroline could only assume that indicated her regular executioner. She had not heard the voice of the leader of the highwaymen this night, the one who had killed the late Duke without a thought. Caroline assumed it would be one and the same. He would have no compunction about killing a duchess. He had already killed the duke.
She felt ill.
CHAPTER23
The group dispersed leaving only two male voices muttering outside of her door. She determined that they had been the lowest ranking members as they had not seemed pleased with the task of being left behind. One was assuredly young Matthew and the other one of the abductors.
She began working in earnest on her bindings. Her wrists ached and had grown raw against the rough rope. It had been hastily tied but she could not get it loose. She tried the other hand, and realized that the wood of the chair itself had some give to it. Sitting in the damp air, the chair had warped and rotted. The wicker of the armrest was fraying in one spot and so she yanked at it in frustration. Her wrist began to bleed in earnest now, but she was able to loosen the arm of the chair. That gave her the leeway she needed, stretching the fibers just enough that she could slip one hand free. Using her other hand and her teeth, she managed to get her other hand loose.
She did not know what she would do now that she was free. She had no idea where she was or how much time had passed. She crouched in the center of the room and listened for anything that might give her a clue to her surroundings. The men were still grumbling somewhere to the right of the doorway. They had moved far enough away that she could hear the tone of their voices, but not their words.
The room had a musty damp smell to it as if it never properly dried out but that told her little about her location. It was empty save for the chair and her own person.
She had no idea how long she had been unconscious or how far they might have taken her, but since many of the faces that had made their appearances were based out of London, she thought it safe to suspect that she was still within reasonable distance of the city. Perhaps even still within its bounds. If only she would be so fortunate, she might have a hope of reaching a location that was safe.
She carried the rope with her, thinking it a better defense than her bare hands. At very least she might be able to wrap it around an attacker’s neck and strangle them. The thought, even for her own self-preservation, sickened her. She doubted she would have the will or the strength. Her left wrist was throbbing something terrible and her head still ached.
She thought about slipping her shoes off to dampen her footfalls but it was winter and she would need her shoes if she were to outrun her captors and survive in the snow. Instead, she took painstakingly slow steps, careful to test each floorboard before setting her weight upon it, testing it to see if it might creak.
Through the sliver of light at the door she could make out nothing more than stacks of crates strewn about. A warehouse, perhaps? She was in some sort of storage facility to be sure. She could feel the cold creeping in from the larger room. The chill breeze gave her hope that there was an exterior door nearby that was open or at very least unlocked.
The two men were bathed in the light of three lanterns. Their stark forms sat at a table and they appeared to be passing a bottle of some amber liquid between them. She heard Matthew hiss at the burn of the drink and the older man roared with laughter.
Caroline inched the door open, praying that the hinges were well oiled. If she stayed low, she could remain hidden behind the nearest crate, yet that would mean she had to open the door wide enough to crawl through rather than slip sideways. The risk was one she would have to take in order to remain out of view. The door was miraculously silent as she pulled it open. She crept forward until she was crouching on the other side and safely behind the crate. She considered inching the door closed again but was afraid that any more movement would draw the attention of the men.
To her left stood an open door from which the breeze was coming. That then was her exit. She would have to make a run for it as there was nothing between her crate and that door. She would be in open view of the men for no less than ten strides. She steeled herself, knowing that she must begin, but too afraid to make the dash. She would have no second chance.
“What’s that?” Matthew’s voice said with a jolt.
“The door’s open!” the other man shouted and Caroline heard a chair slam to the floor as the men stood up.
She had leapt at the same time, racing for all that she was worth. She had grown up in the country and was strong. Weeks of hard labor had made her even stronger.
She passed through the doorframe just as a shot rang out and embedded itself in the wood beside her head. She did not even pause to look at it. She bolted through the door, made a hard left and ran straight down a hallway that opened into the darkness of the evening snowstorm. Shouts and curses followed her. Another shot, then another, rang after her but she would not stop running. She barreled out onto the docks of a London wharf. She knew the Thames when she saw it. Knew that wide river that bordered so much of London’s cityscape. Although she did not think it was frozen, she could not be sure. She did know falling into the icy river would be death. Hadn’t that been what Edward had said? Throw her body into the Thames? Nonetheless, she was running directly toward it. She could not turn back toward the shore for that would lead her straight into the arms of her assailants. She wove between the crates and barrels that littered the dock hearing one bullet and then another fly after her. There was a pause as the men reloaded and she bolted.
She remembered her father saying that pistols were wholly unreliable, but she never thought she would bless that fact.
At one point she knew that they had lost sight of her because the next shot was off toward the other side of the dock. Still, the men knew that she had reached a dead end and there was only one way off the dock that did not lead straight into their arms.
