“Why'd you untie 'im in the first place?”
“That's none of your concern.”
Charles sighed and held his wrists out toward Baxter. Much as he'd like to fight for his freedom, now wasn't the time. He could never win against both Baxter and Cecil, who was still armed with a knife and gun. Not to mention the fact that his ankles were tied together and one of them was sprained.
Charles sighed as Baxter looped new rope around his wrists. All that work wearing down the other rope for nothing. Still, Baxter tied a looser knot than the previous one, which at least allowed him some measure of circulation.
Baxter left the room, and Cecil followed him to the doorway, waving the gun once in Charles's direction with a harsh, “Don't you move.”
“As if I could,” Charles muttered, trying to bend his toes inside his boots to get the blood moving in his feet. He listened while Cecil spoke to Baxter's friend, whom he had not yet seen, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. After a minute or two Cecil returned and sat down in a ramshackle chair.
“Now what?” Charles demanded.
“Now we wait.”
After a few moments, however, Cecil started to fidget. Charles took some satisfaction in his discomfort. “Bored?” he drawled.
“Impatient.”
“Ah, I see. You want me dead and done with it.”
“Exactly.” Cecil started tapping his hand against his thigh, making clucking sounds with his mouth as he did so.
“You are going to drive me bloody insane,” Charles said.
“That is not high on my list of worries.”
Charles closed his eyes. Clearly he had already died and gone to hell. What could possibly be worse than being trapped for hours with a tapping, clucking Cecil, who, incidentally, planned to kill him and his wife?
He opened his eyes. Cecil was holding a deck of cards.
“Want to play?” Cecil asked.
“No,” Charles said. “You've always been a cheat.”
Cecil shrugged. “Won't matter. I can't collect from a dead man. Oh, I beg your pardon, I can. In fact, I'll be collecting everything you own.”
Charles closed his eyes again. He had been courting the devil when he wondered what could be worse than being trapped with Cecil.
For now he knew. He was going to have to play cards with the cur.
There was no justice in the world. None at all.
Ellie's hands shook as she unfolded the note the butler had just given to her. Her eyes scanned the lines, and she caught her breath.
My dear Eleanor,
I have spent all day preparing a romantic outing for us alone. Meet me at the swing in one hour.
Your devoted husband,
Charles
Ellie looked up at Helen, who had been keeping a vigil with her for the past hour. “It's a trap,” she whispered, handing her the note.
Helen read it and looked up. “How can you be sure?”
“He would never call me Eleanor in a personal note such as this. Especially if he were trying to do something romantic. He would call me Ellie. I'm sure of it.”
“I don't know,” Helen said. “I agree with you that something is amiss, but can you really read all that into whether he uses your proper name or a nickname?”
Ellie waved her question aside. “And besides that, Charles has instituted draconian measures since someone tampered with his saddle. Do you really think he'd send me a note asking me to come out alone to a deserted area?”
“You're right,” Helen said firmly. “What will we do?”
“I'll have to go.”
“But you can't!”
“How else am I to discover his whereabouts?”
“But Ellie, you will be hurt. Surely whomever has taken Charles means to do you ill as well.”
“You will have to summon help. You can wait at the swing and watch what happens. Then you can follow me after I am snatched.”
“Ellie, it seems so dangerous.”
“There is no other way,” Ellie said firmly. “We cannot save Charles if we do not know where he is.”
Helen shook her head. “We won't have time to summon help. You're supposed to be at the swing in an hour.”
“You're right.” Ellie let out a nervous exhale. “We shall have to save him ourselves then.”
“Are you mad?”
“Can you shoot a gun?”
“Yes,” Helen replied. “My husband taught me how.”
“Good. I hope you don't need it. You shall go with Leavey to the swing. There is no other servant Charles trusts more.” Then Ellie's face crumpled. “Oh, Helen, what am I thinking? I cannot ask you to do this.”
“If you're going, I'm going,” Helen said firmly. “Charles saved me when my husband died and I had no place to go. Now it's my turn to return the favor.”
Ellie grasped her hands tightly. “Oh, Helen. He's lucky to have you for a cousin.”
“No,” Helen corrected. “He's lucky to have you for a wife.”
Chapter 23
Ellie hadn't counted on getting smacked over the head, but other than that, her scheme was proceeding exactly according to plan. She'd waited out by the swing, acted stupid and called out, “Charles?” in a silly voice when she'd heard footsteps, and struggled—although not too hard—when someone had grabbed her from behind.
But obviously she'd struggled a little bit harder than her attacker had expected, because he'd let out a loud curse and whacked her over the head with something that felt like a cross between a giant boulder and a grandfather clock. The blow didn't knock her out, but it did leave her dizzy and nauseated, which wasn't helped when her captor stuffed her in a burlap bag and threw her over his shoulder.
But he hadn't searched her. And he hadn't found the two small pistols she had strapped to her thighs.
She groaned as she bounced along, trying really hard not to empty the contents of her stomach. After about thirty seconds, she was dumped onto something hard, and it soon became apparent that she was in the back of a wagon or cart of some sort.
It was also apparent that her captor was aiming for every bump in the road. If she got out of this alive, she was going to have bruises on every inch of her body.
They traveled for about twenty minutes. Ellie knew that Leavey and Helen were on horseback, so they ought to be able to follow her with ease. She only prayed that they were able to do so without being seen.
Finally the wagon rolled to a halt, and Ellie felt herself being lifted roughly in the air. She was carried for a moment, then she heard a door swing open.
“I got 'er!” her captor yelled.
“Excellent.” This new voice was well-bred, very well-bred. “Bring her in.”
Ellie heard another door swing open and then the bag was being untied. Someone picked up the bottom of the sack and dumped her out, rolling her onto the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
She blinked, her eyes needing time to adjust to the light.
“Ellie?” Charles's voice.
“Charles?” She scrambled to her feet, then stopped short at what she saw. “Are you playing cards?” If he didn't have a good explanation for this, she was going to kill him herself.
“It's actually quite complicated,” he replied, holding up his hands, which were bound together.
“I don't understand,” Ellie said. The scene was positively surreal. “What are you doing?”
“I've been flipping his cards for him,” the other man said. “We're playing vingt-et-un.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Cecil Wycombe.”
Ellie turned to Charles. “Your cousin?”
“The very one,” he answered. “Isn't he simply the picture of filial devotion? He cheats at cards, too.”
“What can you possibly hope to gain from this?” Ellie demanded of Cecil. She planted her hands on her hips, hoping that he hadn't noticed that he'd forgotten to tie her up. “You're not even next in line to inherit.”
“He k
illed Phillip,” Charles replied in a flat voice.
“You. Countess,” Cecil barked. “Sit on the bed until we finish our hand.”
Ellie's mouth dropped open. He wanted to continue playing cards? More out of surprise than anything else, she moved docilely to the bed and sat down. Cecil dealt out a card to Charles and then flipped one end up so that Charles could see what it was.
“Do you want another?” Cecil asked.
Charles nodded.
Ellie used the time to assess her situation. Cecil obviously didn't see her as much of a threat, because he hadn't bothered to tie her up before ordering her to sit on the bed. Of course, he had a pistol in one of his hands, and she had a feeling he wouldn't hesitate to use it on her if she made a false move. Not to mention the two burly men who were standing in the doorway, their arms crossed as they watched the card game with irritated expressions.
Still and all, men could be such idiots. They always underestimated women.
Ellie caught Charles's eye while Cecil was occupied with his cards, and she flicked her gaze toward the window, trying to let him know that she'd brought reinforcements.
Then she had to ask, “Why are you playing cards?”
“I was bored,” Cecil replied. “It took longer to get you here than I anticipated.”
“Now we have to keep playing,” Charles explained, “because he refuses to quit while I'm ahead.”
“I thought you said he cheated.”
“He does. He just doesn't do it well.”
“I'll let that pass,” Cecil said, “since I'm going to kill you later today. It seems only sporting. Do you want another card?”
Charles shook his head. “I'll stand.”
Cecil turned over his cards, then flipped over Charles's. “Damn!” he swore.
“I win again,” Charles said with a careless smile.
Ellie noticed one of the men in the doorway roll his eyes.
“Let's see,” Charles mused. “How much would you owe me now? If, of course, you weren't to kill me?”
“Unfortunately for you, that point is moot,” Cecil said with a malicious hiss. “Now be quiet while I deal.”
“Can we get on with this?” one of the guards demanded. “You're only paying us for one day.”
“Shut up!” Cecil screamed, his whole body shaking from the force of his order. “I'm playing cards.”
“He's never beaten me at anything before,” Charles told the guard with a shrug. “Games, hunting, cards, women. I guess he wants to do it once before I die.”
Ellie chewed on her lower lip, trying to decide how best to exploit the situation to her advantage. She could try to shoot Cecil, but she doubted that she could draw one of her guns before the guards overpowered her. She had never been terribly athletic and had long since learned to rely on her wits rather than her strength or speed.
She glanced back over at the guards, who were now looking very irritated with Cecil. She wondered how much he was paying them. Probably a lot, for them to put up with such nonsense.
But she could pay them more.
“I have to relieve myself!” Ellie shouted loudly.
“Hold it,” Cecil ordered, flipping over the cards. “Damn.”
“I win again,” Charles said.
“Stop saying that!”
“But it's true.”
“I said shut your mouth!” Cecil waved his gun wildly in the air. Charles, Ellie, and both the guards ducked, but thankfully no bullets were forthcoming. One of the guards muttered something that sounded unflattering toward Cecil.
“I really need a moment of privacy,” Ellie said again, purposefully making her voice strident.
“I told you to hold it, bitch!”
Ellie gasped.
“Don't speak to my wife that way,” Charles bit out.
“Sir,” Ellie said, hoping she wasn't pushing her luck. “Obviously you do not have a wife, or you would realize that women are a bit more…delicate…than men in some ways, and I am quite simply unable to do as you ask.”
“I'd let her go,” Charles advised.
“For the love of Christ,” Cecil muttered. “Baxter! Take her outside and let her do her business.”
Ellie jumped to her feet and followed Baxter out of the room. As soon as they were out of Cecil's earshot, she hissed, “How much is he paying you?”
Baxter looked at her with a shrewd look in his eye.
“How much?” Ellie persisted. “I'll double it. Triple it.”
He glanced back at the doorway and yelled, “Hurry up!” Then he jerked his head toward the front door, signaling her to follow him outside. Ellie scurried after him, whispering, “Cecil is an idiot. I'll bet he cheats you once you've killed us. And has he offered you double for having to kidnap me, too? No? That's not fair.”
“You're right,” Baxter said. “He should've given me double. He only promised to pay me for the earl.”
“I'll give you fifty pounds if you come to my side and help me free the earl.”
“And if I don't?”
“Then you'll have to take your chances that Cecil will pay you. But from what I've seen in there at that so-called card table, you're going to end up with empty pockets.”
“All right,” Baxter agreed, “but I want to see the money first.”
“I haven't got it with me.”
His face grew menacing.
“I wasn't expecting to be abducted,” Ellie said, talking quickly. “Why would I have brought that much coin with me?”
Baxter stared hard at her face.
“You have my word,” Ellie said.
“All right. But if you cheat me I'll swear I'll slit your throat as you sleep.”
Ellie shivered, having no doubt that he told the truth. She held up a hand in a prearranged signal to Leavey and Helen that all was well. She couldn't see them, but they were supposed to have followed her. She didn't want them charging out and spooking Baxter.
“What are you doing?” Baxter demanded.
“Nothing. Just brushing my hair from my face. It's windy.”
“We've got to get back inside.”
“Yes, of course. We don't want Cecil to grow suspicious,” Ellie said. “But what are we going to do? What is our plan?”
“I can't do anything until I talk to Riley. 'E needs to know we've changed sides.” Baxter's eyes narrowed. “You'll be giving him fifty quid, too, right?”
“Of course,” Ellie said quickly, assuming that Riley was the other thug guarding the doorway.
“All right. I'll talk to 'im as soon as I can get 'im alone and then we'll make our move.”
“Yes, but—” Ellie wanted to say that they needed more of a strategy, more of a plan, but Baxter was already dragging her back inside. He pushed her through the door to the inner room, and she stumbled onto the bed. “I'm feeling much better now,” she announced.
Cecil grunted something about not caring, but Charles regarded her thoughtfully. Ellie shot him a quick smile before looking back to Baxter, trying to remind him that he needed to speak with Riley.
But Riley had other ideas. “I gotta go, too,” he announced, and he lumbered off. Ellie glared at Baxter, but he didn't follow Riley. Maybe he thought it would look too suspicious for him to go so soon after coming back with Ellie.
After a minute or so, however, they heard a terrible commotion from outside the cottage. Everyone jumped to their feet, except Charles, who was tied up, and Baxter, who was already standing.
“What the hell is going on?” Cecil demanded.
Baxter shrugged.
Ellie's hand flew to her mouth. Oh God, Riley didn't know that he was working for her now, and if he'd found Helen or Leavey outside…
“Riley!” Cecil yelled.
All of Ellie's worst fears were realized when Riley thundered back into the room, holding Helen close to his body, a knife pressed against her throat. “Look what I found!” he cackled.
“Helen?” Cecil said, looking amused.
“Cecil?” Helen didn't look amused at all.
“Baxter!” Ellie shouted in a panicked voice. He needed to let Riley know the change in plans now. She watched in horror as Cecil sidled up next to Helen and yanked her next to him. His back was to Ellie, however, and she used his inattention to grab one of the pistols strapped to her legs and hide it under the folds of her skirt.
“Helen, you really shouldn't have come,” Cecil said, his voice practically a croon.
“Baxter, tell him now!” Ellie yelled.
Cecil whirled around to face her. “Tell who what?”
Ellie didn't even stop to think. She whipped up the pistol, cocked it, and pulled the trigger. The explosion jolted her clear up to her shoulder and knocked her back to the bed.
Cecil's face was a picture of surprise as he clutched his chest near his collarbone. Blood seeped through his fingers. “You bitch,” he hissed. He raised his gun.
“Nooooo!” Charles yelled, pitching forward from his chair and hurling himself at Cecil. His aim wasn't good, but he managed to hit his cousin in the legs, and Cecil's arm was thrown up in the air before he pulled the trigger.
Ellie felt a burst of pain in her arm as she heard Helen scream her name. “Oh my God,” she whispered in shock. “He shot me.” Then her shock was replaced by anger. “He shot me!” she exclaimed. She looked up just in time to see Cecil readjusting his aim on Charles. Before Ellie even had time to think, she reached down with her good arm, grabbed her other pistol, and fired it at Cecil.
Silence fell over the room, and this time there was no doubt that he was dead.
Riley was still holding a knife to Helen's throat, but now he looked like he didn't know what to do with her. Finally Baxter said, “Let 'er go, Riley.”
“What?”
“I said let her go.”
Riley dropped his knife arm and Helen ran to Ellie's side.
“Oh, Ellie,” Helen cried out. “Are you badly hurt?”
Ellie ignored her and glared at Baxter. “A fat lot of good you were.”
“I told Riley to let 'er go, didn't I?”
She scowled at him. “If you want to earn your pay, at least go and untie my husband.”
“Ellie,” Helen said, “let me look at your arm.”