Page 28

Eventually, the knowledge that his eyelids were far heavier than they should be sank into his consciousness.

Also, his limbs felt weighted; moving them was a chore.

When his brain seemed fuzzy as if his head was stuffed with cotton, alarm bells rang, but even then, they were muffled.

“I, uh…” What? Why couldn’t he think of the words he needed to say?

“There is something… Um, our tea has been drugged.” With what?

And by whom? “Laudanum?” Or some plant that made him far too sleepy, disoriented, and blurry eyed.

“Felix?” Her eyelids drooped. “I feel… strange.”

Barely had he set his teacup into its saucer on the table before he slumped to the floor with a dull thud. The last thing he saw was Caroline collapsing onto the sofa. As her eyes fluttered closed, she dropped her cup on the stone floor, where it shattered into several pieces.

When Felix came to, his head once more pounded and his mouth tasted as if he’d chewed on dirty cotton.

The guttering flame of a candle sent eerie shadows skittering over what was a marble floor and the walls, that weren’t walls in the traditional sense, but rather marble-faced drawers the likes of which one could find in a… He squinted, in a damned burial vault.

What the hell?

“Caroline?” His voice sounded scratchy and odd, as if he hadn’t used it in a while.

Surely, they couldn’t have been unconscious for that long.

She had been dumped not far from him and lay on her side with half her black hair undone from the pins to spill on the white marble like ink.

And still the candle in the sconce guttered.

They would only have illumination for perhaps another hour or so.

“Caroline?” Reaching over, he shook her shoulder.

Thankfully, she came awake and blinked at him in confusion. “Where are we? Why do I feel so rubbish?”

At least she’d retained her sense of humor. Relief shuddered through him. “It appears we’ve been drugged. What’s more, we’ve been deposited in a burial vault, and these things are designed to only have one way in and one way out.”

“Oh, God.” With perhaps more haste than caution, she struggled into a sitting position then put a hand to her head, which no doubt pounded as his did.

Her breathing shallowed as she glanced about.

“This is the Ives family vault, on far east side of the property.” Eyes wide with fear, she trained her gaze on him.

“Many of my more important relatives have been laid to rest in the vault. Others were buried in the family cemetery.”

“Fitting, but in poor taste.”

“Who put us here?”

“I couldn’t say, but I’ll give them a reckoning once I know.”

“Oh.” She put a hand to her throat. “We have to get out of here.”

Well aware of her fright brought on by small, enclosed places, he sought to soothe her.

“We’re going to be all right.” At the moment, it was difficult to battle the desire for his partner with his determination to solve the murder.

Above all, he didn’t enjoy being conflicted nor distracted, yet they were both in danger.

Protection for her welled. “I won’t let anything happen to you. ”

She snorted. “Worse than being drugged, dumped, and left for dead?” Heavy sarcasm rode through her voice despite her fright.

There was no need to answer. Felix scowled across the space at the woman he’d partnered with on this case. What they needed was a distraction, and perhaps he should tell her something of himself. “Shall I tell you of how I came to have my kneecap blown off? To get your mind off the circumstances?”

“Yes.” She nodded and held his gaze where fear held a prominent place. “Please.”

“Good, because it aches like the devil right now. Probably because it’s gotten twisted.” And perhaps in doing so, he’d arrive back in her good graces.

“All right.”

“Three years ago this month, my career with Bow Street was on a rising trajectory. I was excited to see where it would lead, so when I took a case involving a missing youth, I jumped at the chance to gain notice from my superiors. ”

“I’m sure you were a force to be reckoned with in those days.”

“Am I not now?”

She shrugged but kept her own counsel.

Damn, that was a blow to the ego. “Anyway, I’d received a lead as to the kidnapper and went off to find the man.

He spooked and was desperate. I gave chase.

He pulled a pistol. Rarely does a shot find its mark during a foot chase, but this one did.

The ball shattered my kneecap and left me writhing on a Mayfair street after dark, bleeding profusely. ”

“I can’t even imagine the pain you were in.” Her hushed voice filled the close space, as did the faint vanilla scent of her perfume.

“It was worse than any wound I received in the military.” With her gaze riveted on him, he extended his aching left leg as best he could and winced.

“Help me with the boot.” Perhaps with her tugging, the buckle would right itself, or the thing would twist back into place. Then they could try to find a way out.

“All right.” She crawled over to him, and when she reached his foot, she grasped his boot. “You should probably brace yourself.”

“Right.” He levered his back against the wall of marble-faced doors that led to the final resting places of her relatives.

Caroline tugged once, twice and then the boot came away from the false leg without incident.

“That wasn’t so hard.” She propped the boot against the wall at her back.

Though her gaze fell on the false wooden foot covered with a wool sock, her lips formed a tight line. “You have a hinged ankle of sorts.”

“I do.” The clever hinge gave him greater mobility and preserved the myth he wasn’t harboring a prosthetic. “It works, until it doesn’t. Sometimes it jams with the wool of the sock.”

“It’s a marvelous help, though.” As she spoke, Caroline drew up the leg of his breeches. “I’m guessing we need to assess any possible damage to the false leg itself as well as the hardware?”

Sweat broke out along his brow. “Yes.” His companion would either accept him as he was, or he’d see the revulsion in her eyes.

“Don’t look when the leg comes off if you’re squeamish.

” Though she wouldn’t see much. The stump had been sewn closed, and he wore a specially designed sack of sorts to cover it and protect against chafing of the prosthetic.

A huff of annoyance escaped her. “Has anyone ever told you how much of a pain in the arse you are?”

“Often. My sister, mostly.” At least concentrating on this task kept him from acknowledging the pain that still rocked through his head. “My commanding officer, certainly, as did my superiors at Bow Street. ”

Her husky laughter echoed through their prison and grabbed him by the throat. “They weren’t wrong, and I’ll wager you are even a larger one now.”

“Perhaps.” As he revealed the hinged mechanism that took the place of his knee, she sucked in a breath. Once the fabric reached his thigh, he cursed. “One of the four buckles that keeps the leg clamped to the harness around my thigh has come undone. The harness itself is also loose.”

She stared, and he couldn’t bring himself to peer into her eyes in the dim illumination. “It is remarkable that if one of these carefully arranged pieces of hardware becomes misaligned, the whole thing fails.”

“Remarkable yet fragile.” And it hurt like the devil right now.

“How…” Her swallow was audible. “How long were you in hospital before you were fitted with this?”

He worked first one of the buckles and then moved on to the next. “Months, I’d say. I can’t remember.”

“I’m so sorry,” she responded in a quiet voice. “I suppose this is part of what makes you fascinating.”

“At least there’s that.” And she’d said it.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

How was it she could cajole him into a better mood with her bright viewpoint?

He released the third buckle. “Eventually, when I could remain conscious with laudanum to manage the pain, they told me what had happened. That a passerby had found me and brought me to the hospital in their carriage.”

“Thank goodness someone had a caring heart.”

Was that another dig at him? He ignored it. “In any event, I was stitched and sewn up like a ragdoll. My surgeon was excellent. Trained in Scotland. He wanted to fit me with a prosthetic so he could monitor my progress and write a paper about it.”

“I’m surprised you agreed. You’re not very accommodating—or polite—at times.”

“Ha.” Damn, but the woman was uncannily good at delving into the secrets he didn’t reveal. “I was intrigued, and the thought of being able to walk again was a powerful motivator.” He released the final buckle but was reluctant to remove the leg.

“Why are men so vain?”

“We don’t want to be seen as weak.” He moved his fingers to the leather straps of the harness around his thigh.

“I’m not too proud to admit I was angry in that hospital.

Didn’t even grab my assailant or solve the case.

” His voice caught on the last word. He fought for control; he would not cry.

He had yet to shed a tear for anything in his life, and he refused to start now .

“Did anyone else at Bow Street do it for you?”

The question caught him by surprise, and he focused his gaze on her face.

Caroline peered back at him waiting with expectation.

His chest tightened along with his throat.

“I don’t remember asking. It fell to the fog brought on by the reliance of laudanum.

Once I came home to familiar environs, I weaned myself off the opiate. Don’t trust them.”

Caroline clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I don’t blame you if this is what it feels like with a small amount.” Caroline moved closer to him, batted his hands away from the remaining hardware. “Regardless, I’m sorry your career ended prematurely.”