It seemed so. She was just now describing some of the treasures piled up at Burlington’s in a manner far too detailed to come from someone with merely a passing interest. By God, the girl actually knew what she was talking about! Harris found himself oddly short of breath. To think, she wasn’t only beautiful and tempting and delicious, but she had a brain, too.
And damned if he hadn’t filled that brain with ample reason to despise him.
He thought to join in their conversation, to explain to her that he was every bit as knowledgeable and adventurous as his renowned parent, but noises outside the door put an end to casual discussion. Penelope clutched at that ragged blanket again, and Harris felt the hair at the back of his neck rise in anticipation. Their captors had returned. Very likely they would soon learn what this was all about and who, exactly, had brought them here. And what would happen next.
He moved closer to Penelope, positioning himself between her and the door. Oldham was at his side. Still, he knew they would be no match for hired thugs with weapons.
As the added light spilled into the room, he quickly took stock of his surroundings. He was by no means an expert at dealing with this sort of situation, but he had enough sense to know it was a good idea to be prepared. He made mental inventory of the various bits of rubbish heaped around them.
It seemed the room they were in had been used for storage; no windows, high ceiling, and only the one door. It was damp and drafty and smelled of fish and rot. What one might expect at the docks. He had assumed as much from the sounds and smells along the route as he tried to envision it while his abductors had carted him—blindfolded—here.
Very likely they were to be transported somewhere via water, and that could be bad. Their best bet for escape would be before they were trussed up and tossed onto a boat. Surrounded by water and at the mercy of God knew how many captors, they would have little hope of getting away. He needed to take stock of their resources and think up a way out of here now.
A man entered their room. He was well dressed and followed by the usual thugs, so Harris realized their true abductor had arrived. With the lantern light behind him, though, the man’s face was in shadow. Damn. Harris needed to know for certain what—whom—they were up against.
“Hello, Harry,” he spoke after a suitable pause to build the tension.
Harris knew the voice immediately.
Chapter Nineteen
He called him Harry. Penelope shuddered. Whoever this gentleman was, Lord Harry knew him well. She could see his face in the yellow light. Lord Harry’s eyes were cold and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Oh yes, he knew this man. And he didn’t much care for him.
“Good evening, Uncle,” he said.
Oh. So this was his uncle. Now it made a bit more sense why Nedley Chesterton might be so very hateful toward his nephew. The man was not truly his nephew at all.
“So here is Kingsdere’s favorite heir,” the man said with unpleasant scorn. “To think my father’s title could end up going to a shiftless bastard like you. It makes me sick at my stomach.”
Indeed, if Lord Harry’s sickly elder brother died without heir—as seemed very likely—all the family titles would go to him. No wonder this uncle seemed so unhappy. He was cut from inheriting by a bastard that his cuckolded brother had chosen to claim. This, she was horrified to realize, might give the uncle good reason to wish Lord Harry at the bottom of the Thames. Coincidentally, the Thames was very nearby.
But why was Professor Oldham here? Oh, certainly she was thrilled beyond measure for a chance to finally meet the man, but truly she had always hoped for a more suitable venue. Conversation under their current circumstances would be strained at best.
“Oldham, I need you,” the angry uncle announced suddenly. “Come with me. Now.”
It seemed Professor Oldham was going to obey, but Lord Harry laid his hand on his arm to stay him.
“What on earth can you possibly need him for? Your grievance is with me, Uncle.”
“If not for him there would be no you,” the uncle replied. “And I’ll deal with you later. For now, I need your, er, father’s expertise on a little shipment I must go to prepare.”
“Shipment of what?” Professor Oldham asked.
“Those lovely little rarities you so graciously dug up in Egypt, of course. My good friend Burlington was kind enough to keep them at his house—for a fee that included payment of some rather embarrassing gambling debts—but now that we’ve found a buyer, it’s time to box them up and ship them out. Since I can’t make heads or tails of half of it, I need Oldham here to make sure all is in order for the voyage to France.”
“Your buyer is in France?” Lord Harry asked.
His uncle sneered at him. “And soon all your pretty knickknacks will be, too. Doesn’t that just drive you mad?”
Then he laughed. It was such an unpleasant laugh that Penelope couldn’t help but cringe. Poor Lord Harry, to have such a relative as this! No wonder he’d not turned out well.
“They belong in Egypt,” Lord Harry said. “We had an agreement with the people there. You had no right to steal those antiquities—there’s been too much of that already.”
“Yes, yes, I know all about that. Lord Elgin and his marbles upset the people of Greece; your silly Egyptian friends think they have some claim to this…It’s an old story, I’m afraid, and one that I really don’t care to hear again. Fortunately, I don’t have to. Come along, Oldham. You’ve already been ruined as far as your career is concerned. Don’t make matters worse by giving me reason to start shooting your loved ones.”
Professor Oldham lowered his head and did as he was told. How awful to see such a great man treated this way! Then again, Penelope was rather grateful that he didn’t argue. The two thugs at the door both held pistols this time, and they seemed rather eager to use them.
She inched closer to Lord Harry, and he put an arm around her. She enjoyed it more than she should have, especially given the circumstances.
“At least if I’m involved in their shipping, I can assure the antiquities are kept safe,” the professor said, turning to give his son a rather forlorn smile. “Pity our friends from Egypt aren’t here. They could have followed me home and stayed in the old house where we used to meet them.”
What was that? The professor’s eyes seemed to hold a secret message as they met Lord Harry’s. He nodded. It was an almost imperceptible nod, but as Penelope was as close to him as she could make herself, she noticed it. Clearly something unspoken passed between the two men. What was it she saw on Lord Harry’s face? His arm tightened around her.
“When I’ve got this taken care of, I’ll be back for you, Harry,” the unpleasant man said. “And your pretty little miss. Let’s just hope no one does anything to upset me in the meantime.”
Clearly that last part was a warning. Oldham nodded. He understood. If he did not cooperate fully, something dreadful would happen to his son. Penelope felt it safe to assume that would include her, as well. So they were to be held here as assurance that things went as planned. But then what? She did not want to consider what might happen when they were no longer needed.
The way those two thugs were eyeing her, though, indicated that they were considering, too. They seemed rather pleased with their mental efforts. Ugh. How revolting! She pressed yet closer to Lord Harry.
Uncle Chesterton shoved Professor Oldham through the doorway, but motioned to one of his brutes on the way out. “You stay here. Keep an eye on them.”
The man smiled an all-too-willing smile. Penelope shuddered. It was disgustingly obvious that he’d be only too happy to keep much more than an eye on them. On her, at least.
If she could have inched herself closer to Lord Harry, she would have.
The door shut and the room was dim again. They were alone with their shifty-eyed keeper. Not at all a comfortable position.
“I suppose when this is all over my uncle will have you kill us,” Lord Harry said to the man, not making her the lea
st bit more at ease.
The man shrugged. “If I’m lucky. Then again, he might be going to do you in hisself.”
“He might. Either way, we all realize he can’t very well let us go free after this.”
“So I guess you and yer lady here don’t have much to look forward to, do ye?”
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in some sort of bargain, would you?”
The foul man cocked an eyebrow at Lord Harry. He was curious. Ah, Lord Harry must have something planned! For a moment or two she had hope, but that faded as the man’s expression changed.
“From what I hear, you ain’t in no position to make no bargains,” the thug grumbled. “I hear you got nothing but what yer uncle thinks to give ye, and beyond that some bloody lord wants to put a bullet in ye for dallying with his wife. Don’t sound like you’re in much place for making deals, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“I’ve had dozens of angry husbands want to put any number of bullets in me,” Lord Harry said. “And I’ve got nothing from my damned uncle all these years and still I manage to get on fairly well. Now I’ve no intention of dying here tonight, so if you’d be so kind as to let me walk out that door I’m ready to make it worth your while.”
“Yer uncle pays me a pretty penny to do as he says. Just what have you got that might possibly interest me to go against him?”
Penelope was more than eager to hear the answer. Did he have resources she was unaware of? Had he tucked some priceless treasure in his pocket before they dragged him here? Had he a pistol? What could he possibly produce that might save them?
“Her.”
What was that?
“If you let me go,” he explained. “I’ll leave her behind for you.”
Being the only female in the room, she could do nothing but assume he referred to her. Good heavens, he couldn’t, could he? He’d honestly barter her person for his own escape? Well, then he was an even greater scoundrel than she’d already thought him, and she’d thought some very unpleasant things about him!
To prove his point, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to stand in front of him. By gracious, he was presenting her for inspection! She tried to be invisible, but of course she couldn’t. The thug was able to run his disgusting gaze all over her in the flickering light from the lamp.
“Easy on the eyes, isn’t she?” Lord Harry asked.
She craned her neck to glare at him, but his eyes evaded her scathing look.
“And I can vouch for what’s underneath, too,” he went on.
Oh! The horrible creature.
“So ye’d give her over to me, eh?” the thug questioned.
“Just as soon as you let me walk through that door,” Lord Harry agreed.
“And what’s to stop me from takin’ her now?” the thug asked. “Seems I’m the one with the pistol here.”
“You’d be able to make full use of her and keep that pistol on me? I think not,” Lord Harry said.
As if to make his suggestion even more alluring, Lord Harry reached up to run his fingers over a loose strand of hair that fell against her neck. Her skin prickled at his touch and she felt warm. Drat, she should most certainly not feel that little thrill in the pit of her stomach. He was merely using her to barter! Her stupid body had no right to respond the way it did.
But then he leaned in and she felt his soft breath against her ear.
“Trust me.”
She could barely make out the words, but heard them all the same. What could he mean? Could he honestly expect her to trust him after all he’d done? Of course she wouldn’t. Then again, she had little else to hope in just now. Did she dare trust him? Could he have some sort of plan to save them despite his cruel bargain with the leering brute? She didn’t know which would be more foolish, to trust him now or not to.
The thug seemed blissfully unaware that any communication had passed between them. He was still shamelessly scrutinizing her, his eyes flicking up and down. She hated it, but was not so nauseated that she didn’t realize that as long as he was in this manner distracted, Lord Harry might stand a better chance of overtaking him. If indeed that was something near to his plan. If indeed he truly had a plan.
Hoping she’d chosen wisely, she drew a long, deep breath and let her wrapper fall slightly open. The thug’s eyes grew wider and darker. Wretched man.
“So,” Lord Harry asked the man after a pause long enough for her to breathe a few more times, “do we have a bargain?”
The thug put his tongue back into his mouth to answer. “She ain’t likely going to cooperate.”
“Hmm, no that’s true. Very well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll help you bind her before I leave.”
“Bind her?” the man questioned.
“Yes, bind her?” Penelope repeated.
Lord Harry nodded toward a pile of something in the corner. “I noticed a rope. If you agree to let me go, I’ll help you bind her.”
This seemed an intriguing notion to their captor. His lip twitched. “Bind her, eh?”
“She likes it,” Lord Harry added, which really was going a bit further than necessary.
“Very well,” the thug said. “Get the rope.”
“I’ll need some light,” Lord Harry said, picking up the small oil lamp and moving toward the corner.
“Don’t be trying nothing tricky, though,” the man said, apparently not as entirely brainless as he seemed.
“It was just over here,” Lord Harry said, ignoring the man’s warning and poking at some of the formless refuse piled in the corner. “I saw it when my uncle came in here with that lantern.”
Penelope stayed where she was, now in shadow. This seemed to confuse the thug. He glanced rapidly back and forth between her and Lord Harry, not quite able to decide who to train the pistol on. Perhaps this was what Lord Harry was hoping for, a moment of distraction where he could overpower the man, or make a dash for the door. Yet he did nothing. He was still in the corner poking through debris. Was he, perhaps, waiting for her?
But what could she do? She felt so helpless, and she hated it. Never before had her wits abandoned her like this. Should she attack the man? Or should she simply wait for Lord Harry to act? She didn’t much like that option. What if he truly had no intention of saving her? Or worse, what if he did and he got himself killed in the process?
Well, she simply could not have that. If the man did have any intention of saving her—and she wished to give him every opportunity to do just that—then he would no doubt appreciate a distraction. She would have to create one for him.
Grabbing at her skirt, she suddenly hoisted it up to her knees and began screaming.
“A mouse! Oh heavens, a mouse ran over my foot!”
She danced around frantically, putting herself farther and farther away from Lord Harry and pulling her skirt up higher and higher to give the thug the best view possible in the muted lamplight. His eyes followed her intently. The pistol was now not precisely aimed at either one of them.
“Help! I think it ran up into my underthings!” she cried, tugging at her clothing in the most provocative ways she could think of. “Get it out! Oh, get it out of there!”
Dancing her way toward the thug she leaned forward, jiggling her body with all her might as she pretended to dig for a wayward mouse down the front of her nightgown. She felt like an idiot, but it was clear that she had the thug’s complete attention at this point. The pistol practically hung limp in his hand as he watched her every move, transfixed. She heard her gown tear and could only wonder just how much of a show she was giving him, but it was all for a worthy cause. She hoped.
From the corner of her eye she could see Lord Harry moving toward them. She barely had a moment to realize what he was doing, and then it was done. He had launched himself at the thug and the two of them toppled over, clattering to the floor in a heap.
She had to jump out of the way as the two men wrestled, arms and fists flailing in the dim light. The pistol hit the floor with a thud,
then skittered just out of reach of either of them. Drat, but it seemed the hired brute had not been as completely caught off guard as she had hoped. He still had ample energy to battle Lord Harry.
Well, she could put an end to that. She scooped up the gun and yelled at them.
“Stop it, or I’ll shoot!”
They didn’t stop. This was not good. If she did fire the weapon, there was a chance she might hit Lord Harry. Plus, then the weapon would be useless—she had no clue how to go about reloading it. What on earth could she do to put an end to their vicious pummeling and give Lord Harry a chance to take the upper hand?
Very well, she had distracted the thug once. She could surely do it again, couldn’t she? It would simply require a bit more drastic measures.
Tucking the pistol between her legs, she reached to her neckline and began working at the fastenings of her nightgown. Her fingers were cold and clumsy, so she ended up ripping at the fabric. By God, she’d find a way to get that man’s attention.
She felt her clothes begin to sag, so she slid the thin gown off her shoulders and over her arms. Heavens, but it was chilly in this damp room. Her thin shift remained intact to barely cover her, but it did little to dispel the cold. Or the fear.
Retrieving the pistol, she allowed the nightgown to slide down, past her waist and over her hips. It fell into a heap on the floor. Such a pretty garment of very fine linen; she hated to sacrifice it this way, but this was a desperate maneuver for a desperate situation.
“Oh help, my nightgown fell off!” she cried out.
No reaction from the two men pounding at each other on the floor. How insulting! She’d best try again.
“I said, help! My clothing fell off!”
This time she was heard. The frantic forms on the floor slowed just a bit. She took a deep breath, praying this would work.
“Oh dear. What if my shift should fall off next? I would be left completely naked!”
Aha, she caught a set of eyes. Yes, the wrestlers were faltering. Any second now Lord Harry would take his opportunity and…But wait, those weren’t enemy eyes fixed on her. They were Lord Harry’s! Oh, for pity’s sake, she’d distracted the wrong man.
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