Page 54 of An Unbending Lady for the Desperate Earl
Victoria did as she was told, though her eyes sought to penetrate the gloom, in order to locate the thin man’s associate. She noticed a shadow sitting atop the carriage. It had to be him. The shorter, stockier individual that Miss Jennings had mentioned, and that Christian had seen, that day in Hyde Park.
Your triumph will soon be at an end. You stole the wrong woman, gentlemen.She allowed herself the faintest smile of satisfaction, as a black cloth tightened across her eyes, blocking her vision of anything at all. She winced as her assailant pulled the cloth even tighter, securing it in place. But that didn’t trouble her too much, for she could easily untie the knot.
As if sensing her thoughts, her arms were yanked behind her back, and she felt rough ropes being tied around her wrists. The fibrous material grazed against her skin, making it itch. That would be harder to undo, she reasoned, as the wretch had bound her without any preamble. If she had suspected he might tie her up, she would have bent her wrists, the way her father had taught her, in order to give her hands some room to wiggle free.
“Don’t say a word,” the man threatened, as he lifted her inside the carriage. She couldn’t see a thing, that was true, but she had learned, a long time ago, how to survive on her other senses. Another part of her father’s teaching, which had got her out of a scrape or two in her time. This would prove no different.
“Is it done?” A gruff, muffled voice called from outside.
“It is,” the thin man replied.
A moment later, she heard the snap of reins and felt the carriage jolt as it set off. Even with her arms tied behind her back, she managed to feel along the bench beneath her. Soft velvet, much like the carriage she had left. Cautiously, she shuffled toward the far side of the bench, until she could feel the cold breeze against her cheek, sneaking in from the exterior.
“Stop your fidgeting!” the Heron, as she had decided to call him, barked.
“I am sorry, sir. I only wished to breathe some fresh air.” Even she was impressed by how pathetic she sounded. The perfect victim. And, goodness, were they going to get a surprise once they reached their final destination.
Leaning into the carriage wall, she set about her work. Shuffling the back of her skirt up, she managed to loosen the knife that she had strapped to her thigh. Every time she moved, she listened out for the sound of her vile companion. Although, after ten minutes had passed, she heard the soft sigh of his snore.
Excellent…
She waited a few moments longer, to be sure he really was asleep, before she began to cut at the hem of her dress. Feeling the give of the fabric, she continued to slice away fragments of lace and silk, until she had enough to leave an extensive trail. After all, she didn’t know how far they had to travel, nor when the Heron might wake again.
Setting the pile of fabric pieces on the bench beside her, she brought the knife between her clamped wrists and sawed through the ropes. She planned to loosely tie them again when the occasion called for it, but she couldn’t very well leave a trail if she was bound.
Ah… that is better.Her hands broke free, and she immediately brought them up to the back of her head to drag the blindfold down her face. Again, she planned to restore it when they arrived at their future location, but she needed her eyes for this.
Blinking several times to get accustomed to the dim light, she let her gaze pause on the Heron. He really had fallen asleep. Evidently, he felt he had nothing to fear from a measly damsel. It amused her, to think how close he actually was to potential death, without even realizing it. She had never resorted to killing anyone, in her entire life, even though there had been a number of occasions where she had been seconds from pulling a trigger to save her own life, or that of a victim. But she understood the power in her hands.
I could take this knife to your throat and slit it, and you would not even know you were going to die until it was too late.With her hands now loose, she could have done that exact thing, and rid the world of one more evildoer. But that wasn’t how she behaved. No, she felt a greater sense of satisfaction in seeing men such as this stand trial in a court of law. They could decide on a death penalty, if they wanted, but that was not up to her. She preferred it that way.
Stowing her knife away, in case the Heron happened to awaken, Victoria reached up and removed several hairpins from her coiffed locks. Stabbing one into each of the fabric scraps, she began to slip them out of the carriage window at steady intervals, where they lodged in the dirt below.
Find me, Christian. I know you will be cross with me, but I am relying on you.No matter how capable she may have been, she was no idiot. She knew that, in order to rescue the missing ladies and bring these two cretins to justice, she needed help. One woman alone could not do both, and she would be damned if she was about to let these two cretins escape her clutches this time.
* * *
“I don’t mean to be impolite, Admiral, but when was the last time you rode on horseback?” Christian glanced at his companion in frustration. He didn’t know why Benedict had insisted they ride, when it was obvious that the older gentleman was no horseman. Indeed, a perfectly good carriage had been available, yet Benedict had protested that this would carry them swifter along the country roads.
“I’d say that’s beingveryimpolite,” Benedict retorted. “You focus on your own riding and let me focus on mine. And keep your eyes open for any trail she may have left. You’re not used to staying awake at all hours, as she and I are, and I don’t want you dropping out of your saddle.”
The two men had become somewhat cantankerous, after the irksome delay they had endured at Bow Street. With it being so late at night—or, indeed, so early in the morning—there had been few constables on duty at the Bow Street headquarters. Many officers were out on patrol, or had already gone home, leaving a sparse crew to man the building itself.
As such, they had been forced to strike out ahead of the proverbial cavalry, relying on a promise that others would be sent to follow their route once enough could be gathered. In addition, one constable had been sent to take care of Miss Longacre, so they had lost the use of him. But, at least Bow Street had lent them these horses, even if Benedict obviously didn’t remember how to ride one.
“I couldn’t ‘drop out’ of my saddle if I tried, Admiral,” Christian muttered. “I have ridden horses since I was old enough to walk. Once upon a time, I was known for having the finest seat in Cornwall.”
“There can’t be many people in Cornwall, then.” Benedict glowered at the road ahead. Much to Christian’s additional chagrin, they had been forced to slow their pace, due to the note that Victoria had left. She had spoken of this trail she might leave, and if they raced along the country roads, Benedict reasoned they would be likely to miss it. Still, it distressed Christian to think they were wasting time. Valuable time, in which Victoria could be heading deeper into danger.
“Do you see anything?” Christian peered down at the road, casting his lantern across it in great sweeps. After all, the moon had decided to be uncooperative, with dense clouds covering the meagre glow. The metallic scent of rain still hung in the air and, judging by that swelling cloud cover, it wouldn’t be long before the heavens opened.
Do not wash away her trail, I beg of you.
“There!” Benedict spurred his horse on and pulled it to a halt a short distance ahead. Christian caught up with him, squinting down at whatever had caught his companion’s eye.
A glint of gold emerged from the dirt, catching the glow of Benedict’s lantern.
Without hesitation, Christian leapt down from the saddle to investigate more closely. Ironic, considering Benedict was supposed to be the actual investigator. He crouched low and took up the shining gold item, placing it in his palm and brushing away the grime that had gathered.
