And then Alex grinned. And she saw De´charne´’s hands tighten on the pistol aimed at him. Alex kept smiling. Lord, was the man insane? Did he want to die?
She speared Alex with her eyes, but though he must have felt the intensity of her stare, he still didn’t acknowledge her. She’d begun shaking now, the trembling starting in her legs and working its way up until she couldn’t control it. Her captor felt her move and locked his arm around her neck to hold her in check. The action only increased her fear, and she gulped for air, then coughed violently. Obviously the barbarian wasn’t a devotee of Brummell and his dictates on cleanliness.
She sputtered and took a shallow breath, willing herself not to faint. If she fainted, she couldn’t help Alex, and what she needed to do now was to come up with a plan.
“Now the lady, Pierre,” De´charne´ said, and Lucia jerked. Her coughing had drawn his attention.
“Tie her.” The skeleton waved his pistol at her, and Pierre grinned, his jagged scar standing out brightly under the glare of the chandelier.
Lucia dragged her eyes back to Alex. Alex sighed, inconvenienced. “There’s really no need to bring this whore along. I assure you that if you give her a few shillings she’ll keep silent enough.”
Lucia blinked and almost glanced about for the strumpet in question. A second later she realized he was speaking of her. Her jaw dropped at the insult, but she closed it quickly. All eyes had turned to her, and she stared haughtily back. Alex’s gaze did meet hers then, and she saw in his face a plea for cooperation.
Her shaking stilled. Thank God! The man finally had a plan.
De´charne´’s shoes clicked on the marble as he approached her, scrutinizing her features just as he’d appraised the Se`vres bowl. Lucia tried to play her part—a difficulty considering that at that moment she couldn’t remember ever having seen any prostitutes. The barbarian loosened his grip, and De´charne´ caught her chin with his bony white hand, twisting her face to and fro. Perhaps if she schooled her face to resemble a loose woman, De´charne´ wouldn’t order her bound. Being tied would certainly be a hindrance in a plan—hers or Alex’s. It took all of Lucia’s willpower not to curl her lip in disgust.
“I do not think so, monsieur. She is no whore. A courtesan, perhaps.” De´charne´ released her chin and turned to Alex. “More likely your mistress. She could be of some use.” He nodded to the foul-smelling man holding her.
The barbarian snatched her hands behind her and another of the men bound her wrists. Alex’s expression remained blasé, and though she understood the reason for his seeming lack of interest, she really could have used one reassuring glance.
And then even that hope was lost when everything went dark. Lucia stiffened and bit back a scream. A moment before she’d been scared; now she was blind and helpless as well.
She let out a squeak of distress as one of the men hefted her and tossed over his beefy shoulders. Oh Lord, she hoped Alex was coming with her.
She heard the door open, and the next thing she felt was the damp morning air. The hood was definitely going to be an obstacle to the plan. Her whole body convulsed, and she began shivering from fear and cold. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath as she was jounced down the walk, and she let out a ragged gasp when she was dropped on what must have been the floor of a carriage. Several of her abductors crawled in after, and Lucia had to squelch cries of pain when they stepped on her or kicked her out of their way.
Something hard and bulky was beside her. She fell against it when the carriage jolted to a start.
“Alex?” she whispered, but there was no response. Her body shook harder.
The brief carriage ride was bumpy, and it seemed they tore around every corner at a frightful speed. She was disoriented and overwhelmed after a few moments, only vaguely aware of the sounds of the waking city and the muffled voices of her captors.
Time and distance blurred. Lucia could hardly remain upright. She was weak from the lack of sleep and food, her legs had begun to cramp, and she’d lost all feeling in her arms. If only she knew where Alex was. If he was beside her, she might be able to still her trembling and concentrate on forming a plan.
Once again she tamped down her rising panic, made worse by the dark, stifling hood, and took a ragged breath. She had to think of a way out of this, some means of escape. What were these men planning to do with her? Where were they taking her? She had to think, to pay attention.
She straightened, and every muscle screamed in agony. She tried to ignore her discomfort, concentrating instead on the sounds of the city.
The muffled noise of the carts and hawkers, babies crying, and men arguing were familiar and indistinct, giving her no indication where in London they were being taken.
She’d just about given up, resigned to the inevitability of death and ready to succumb to the tears running down her cheeks, when the smell assaulted her. Lucia gagged, sobs forgotten.
At first she was afraid she’d inadvertently leaned against the man who had held her in the town house. But this smell was actually worse. It was a rank mixture of dead fish, excrement, and, underlying it all, decay. Perhaps she was dead already, and this putrid assault on her senses was her punishment for all her foolish, impulsive choices in life. Oh, Lord! If only someone had warned her that hell wasn’t torture by fire but by rank odor, she might have behaved better.
“The docks.”
Lucia froze. Alex? “What?”
“The docks,” he said again, and this time she knew it was he.
“Shut up! No talking.”
There was a thud and Lucia yelped, though she wasn’t the one who’d been kicked.
The docks.
Lucia’s heart hammered in her chest. This was not a good sign. The plan was definitely going to have to be revised. Surely the men weren’t going to take them to France? She couldn’t go to France! She wasn’t even allowed on Bond Street without a footman. Perhaps if they knew who she really was—but no, if they had no qualms about abducting Alex, an earl, what would the second daughter of a viscount be to them?
