Page 16 of Devoted to the Spanish Duke
That was good news. There was nothing worse than being chased by a beast in possession of a set of sharp teeth, especially when they were snapping at your heels.
On their way home, Stephen gave a full account of what he had seen in the rear of number nine while Lisandro made mental notes. By the time they had reached the offices of the RR Coaching Company, the kernel of a plan was already forming in Lisandro’s mind.
A plan to rescue Maria.
Chapter Eight
It was such a relief to be able to wash each day. The woman who kept the house for the kidnappers—Maria wasn’t granted her name—boiled up a large kettle of water each morning and brought it upstairs. Fresh towels and soap were a godsend. Her captor had even begun to allow Maria a little more time in which to attend to her ablutions.
Her gratitude toward the woman didn’t extend much beyond that, especially once Maria realized that the food she was being fed was laced with drugs.
With every meal came the same routine. Whatever was in her food rendered her unconscious within minutes of eating it. She would be given breakfast not long after the sun rose each day. The next thing she knew, Maria would wake in her bed, having no idea as to how she had gotten there. Through the window, she would see the pale light of early evening.
She’d have slept the day away.
But as the days rolled into one another; Maria began to sense that the woman was bored of the whole endeavor. She became inattentive and sloppy with her work.
In the beginning, she would remain in the room and wait for Maria to finish eating, but by the end of the first week she started leaving Maria on her own to eat, presumably only coming back once she had passed out.
The woman’s disinterest created an opening—one which Maria did not hesitate to exploit.
On the morning of her fifteenth day in captivity at the house, she waited until the woman had once more left her alone with her breakfast. As soon as the door closed and the key turned in the lock, she picked up the knife from her breakfast tray and quickly headed over to the window. Pushing the curtains aside, she set to work on her secret project.
The window was opaque, which at first had been a disappointment as she couldn’t see out, but it didn’t take long for Maria to realize the benefits of no one being able to see her or what she was doing.
Over the past couple of days, she had managed to prize the bolt on the window latch loose, and this morning, her efforts were rewarded when it finally gave way.
“Ah,” she gasped.
Success. Thank God.
Gently pushing on the frame, she cracked the window open an inch. She dared not go any farther lest someone outside notice. Placing her nose up to the gap, she took in a deep breath.
Delicious, fresh air filled her lungs, and joy sparked in her heart. It was a small step, but it gave her hope. She was determined to fulfil the promise she had made to her mother while onboard the ship.
Mamá I shall find my way home. We will be together again.
Hurrying back to her breakfast, which was the same standard offering every morning, a badly cooked pie, she cut off a large piece of it, then carried it over to the window. Crumbling it between her fingers, she let the wind take it away.
“It’s a start,” she whispered.
She would have to eat the rest of the foul pastry, but at least there was a chance now that she might be able to snatch a few hours of being conscious before the next meal—hours that could be used to figure out a way to escape.
Chapter Nine
They set a watch on the house. Each morning, Toby was taken over to Queen Anne Street where he would climb a tree in the rear of number seven and spend the day watching the comings and goings in the back garden next door. Just before leaving, Stephen would poke a sausage through the fence of number nine and have a friendly chat with the guard dog.
A flower cart vendor was given a few coins to relocate and set up across the road. The woman selling flowers was tasked with the job of noting who came and went via the front door.
By the end of the third day, Lisandro had a good idea of the routine of things. The woman who worked in the house was followed home one evening and afterwards kept under constant surveillance. Two other men also moved in and out of the house, but they appeared to be staying there.
A war council was summoned for the evening. In attendance were Stephen, Lord Harry, Gus, and Lisandro. Their chief spy, Toby, sat at the head of the table, a picture of seriousness.
“The old lady comes and sits on the steps about an hour after I arrive every morning. She smokes a cheroot right down, then goes back inside. I see her coming out again a few more times during the day, then she leaves just as the sun is going down,” he explained.
Lisandro opened his notebook. “I confirmed again with the flower seller, and she informed me that the only person who uses the front door is Señor Alba. Which means later each day, we only have him and the two other unknown males in the house.”
Establishing where the three men were during the night was one problem they were yet to address. Only a fool would go sneaking into a house not knowing where possible assailants could be lurking. Still, there was strength in numbers and if push came to shove, they could handle taking on the kidnappers. But they had to know where Maria was being kept. It wasn’t unheard of for captives to be killed by their abductors rather than rescued.
