Page 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The bell tolls…

S itting in the darkness, Caleb continued patiently working at his restraints. The sad truth of it was that he was having more luck simply fraying the rough hemp than releasing the knots. In the distance, he heard the church bells as they chimed the hour which only heightened his sense of urgency. He had just under eighteen hours to free himself and get to the church. First, he had to somehow loosen his bonds. Without his hands free, he’d have no chance.

Now, with at least some knowledge of the timetable he was working with, Caleb rose to his feet and began scouring the darkened cellar. Inch by inch, he prowled that small, suffocating space. He’d all but given up hope when he found a single nail protruding from a beam overhead. Raising his arms high, he began using the sharp, protruding bit of metal to saw at the ropes around his wrists. When at last the twisted hemp gave way, his skin was bloody and raw from the efforts. But he was free. He let out a soft whoop of victory.

As if summoned by the sound of his voice, a scraping noise sounded beyond the door. Would it be Lady Crowden returned to gloat? Or would it be his guard for some reason? Retreating to the post he’d been leaning against during his earlier conversation with Lady Crowden, he concealed his freed wrists as best possible.

His question was answered quickly enough when the large, beefy figure of a man appeared in the doorway. Standing at his elbow was a cowed young woman, carrying a tray laden with crockery.

“Your supper has arrived, m’lord,” he said with a sneering chortle.

“Is this typically the sort of work you do for her ladyship? Locking up men who have the audacity to refuse her?”

The man laughed. “I do what I’m paid to. Sometimes it’s fetching and carrying a man to her. Sometimes it’s carting ’em away.”

“I suppose that makes you Lady Crowden’s man of all work… so long as it’s the dirty sort.”

“It do. And I’ll not be biting the hand that feeds, so you can just keep whatever you’re about to offer. Me and the lady go way back. She weren’t always so high in the instep, you know? Her mother and mine worked the same corner for many a year.”

The man would never share such information with him if there were any chance of him leaving that room alive. “So will it be Lady Crowden who orders my death? Or do you work on the orders of Lord Crowden to clean up her messes?”

The man stepped aside, letting the young serving girl enter the room, but he kept his gaze locked on Caleb the entire time. “Lady Crowden is very careful about how she brings men here. But even careful folk make a mistake from time to time. You’re a bit brighter than some of the others I’ve had to keep down here… but it won’t help you none. Eat up. A humble last meal for a man such as yourself.”

It would not be his last meal. Of that, Caleb was entirely certain. But bravado in informing the other man such would not be to his benefit. Instead, he remained quiet as the large, burly fellow exited the room, presumably to stand guard outside.

The moment the man was gone, Caleb grasped the wrist of the serving girl and took note of the heavy tray she held. He had no interest in the crockery, or even the cutlery. His interest was in the tray itself. The heavy pewter might be his best chance of overpowering the brute and making his escape. Even from a distance, Caleb had seen the pistol clutched in the man’s meaty fist.

“You must help me get out of here,” he whispered.

“I can’t, sir,” she replied, her voice pitched just as low, even as she glanced furtively over her shoulder. Her fear was palpable. “But there’s a chip in that bowl. Right sharp it is… and I reckon this tray is heavy enough to do some damage. Found the heaviest one I could for you, sir. It ain’t right what she’s doing.”

That quick exchange offered him hope. It meant that not every servant in the house was so bound by loyalty to Lady Crowden that they would willingly aid her in committing such misdeeds. But the brute at the door was another matter. He poked his head in and shouted at the maid. “Quit your yapping and get back to work!”

The maid scurried out when the man barked at her and Caleb was once more alone in the darkness. He didn’t dare eat or drink anything lest it be drugged. The maid was trustworthy, it seemed, but who knew about the cook? While Lady Crowden had said she wished to keep him alive for a bit, she never said she wished to keep him conscious. He couldn’t afford to have his wits addled by whatever she might have slipped into the food.

Removing his coat, he laid it atop the bowl and then struck it with his fist, the fabric muffling any sound that would alert the guard. Shaking out any loose shards of porcelain, he put his coat back on, concealed the evidence of his preparation, and settled himself once more against the post. Then it was simply a matter of waiting. Whether the food had simply been drugged or poisoned, he would be unresponsive whenever anyone opened that door. So much so they’d be forced to come in and check to see if he still breathed. That would be his one singular chance of escape, and he could not falter.

*

From some long-ago caper that had gotten the lot of them in trouble, Marina still had possession of a set of clothing that had belonged to Gervase. The trousers were more snug than they had been the last time she’d worn them, but they would do. With her hair pinned up and tucked into a hat, she could pass for a boy so long as no one looked too closely. She could only pray they would not. Given the darkness and the late hour, her chances were at least acceptable if not good.

Almost as an afterthought, she slipped into her uncle’s study and retrieved the brace of pistols that he kept in a drawer there. She had no idea if Mr. Danvers was armed or not, but she did know he wasn’t entirely trustworthy. Having access to her own weapon would make her feel safer. Thankfully, she’d been taught how to shoot. Willa, oddly enough, was the one who had insisted on the lessons.

With the guns tucked up inside her borrowed coat and her pin money in her pocket, she moved through the house much like a criminal would. When she finally reached the back door of the kitchen and could exit through the small garden into the mews, she breathed a sigh of relief. No one had called her out. No one had awakened and alerted the house to her current path of misadventure. And it was misadventure.

She and Caleb had not spoken at length regarding his friend, but he’d informed her that the man was not keen on their match. Was it any wonder she was curious about his motives? Be that as it may, it was a risk she had to take. If Caleb was in trouble, she would have to do whatever was necessary to help save him.

Making her way along the narrow space that abutted the stables, she found Jacob Danvers waiting for her. He was tense, his shoulders stiff and his jaw firm. “I’m ready,” she told him.

“This could be dangerous,” he informed her.

“I’m aware,” she replied. “The potential danger is precisely why we must act. We cannot risk leaving Caleb to their whims.”

He was quiet for a moment, then gave a jerky nod. “Agreed.”

With that, the two of them departed, leaving the mews and making for the street beyond. A hansom cab waited there for them, his presence clearly having been prearranged. Climbing up into it, she tried to calm her nerves as Danvers climbed in beside her. She was in a vulnerable position, and he was not a man to trust. But what options did she have?

As the vehicle rumbled over the cobblestone streets, she hugged her arms about herself for warmth and to stave off her nervous trembling. Was she rescuing Caleb or was she sacrificing herself to assuage someone else’s pettiness and greed?

“You have nothing to fear from me.”

Marina glanced up. “Is it so obvious?”

“If you were sitting any farther away, you’d be outside the cab,” he pointed out.

“You have made it abundantly clear that you do not want to see Caleb marry me. It would be very unwise if I simply put my blind faith in your current actions and motivations,” she replied.

He nodded in concession. “For the record, my objections were rooted firmly in the fact that I didn’t wish to see Caleb marry anyone. I was bitter, resentful, covetous, and—frankly—a bit of an arse.”

“Only a bit?”

“More, perhaps. But while I allowed jealousy to cloud my judgment briefly, Caleb is my dearest friend and has stood by me when no one else would have or should have. And I’ve repaid him with betrayal… but I would not have seen him harmed.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Marina replied. “But your sincerity will be demonstrated by deeds rather than words.”

“Fair enough, Miss Ashton. Fair enough.”