“I told you so.”
Theodosia continued to snip. “Have you heard anything about your club yet?”
Selena stared at the mountain of cloth before her. She should open her mouth and ask for the book. She should tell her friend about the demands of the club. Sheburnedto confess everything about Warrick, what they had done, how she felt.
But she couldn’t.
Theodosia wouldn’t leave London then, and her brothers might catch up to her. No, she couldn’t put this weight on her friend’s shoulders.
“They are as elusive as ever.” She supposed that still remained true. They were also more questionable. More than ever.
“Well, if you cannot find them, you can always start your own. Nothing is stopping you.”
“Oh, and would you join my club?” Selena asked with a smile. The idea did hold some appeal.
“I might consider it if it’s you. We can all gather and discuss how to deal with the men of our families.”
“That would make for an interesting topic.” Her suggestion? Snip up their favorite clothes and turn them into devils.
Theodosia’s eyes flicked to the painting of her brother again. “I must admit, my fingers are itching to apply some coal to his eyes and rouge to his cheeks.”
“That...” Selena inspected the painting again. “That is a marvelous idea!” She pointed to the paintbrush. “Feel free to indulge your itchy fingers.”
I can always ask for the book tomorrow before she leaves.
Yes, she still had time.
She would use every second.
*
Warrick had beenfurious many times in his life, but this was the first time he’d been livid to the point where his heart wanted to explode from his chest.Kidnapped. What infuriating madness was this? Who dared to kidnap two earls? To tie them up in a suspicions room and leave them to rot?
Whoever it was would surely pay for this.
This night had turned into a true, real-life nightmare. Just when one thing seemed to go right, another veered horribly wrong. He wanted to find Selena, but by the looks of it, they weren’t escaping soon. He only prayed she was not in any danger.
“How tight are your bindings?” Warrick strained his arms against the rope that bound his hands behind his back. Nothing. He tried his legs, which were fastened to the chair. Nothing there either. He glanced down at the rope that circled his chest and secured him to the chair. These women weren’t taking any chances.
Saville groaned, his voice straining. “Too tight to free myself.” Saville glanced over. “They know how to bind a man.”
Warrick grunted. “We should have gone for one of their pistols.”
Saville shook his head. “I already got shot once. It still hurts like the devil.”
Warrick hadn’t forgotten about Saville’s injury. “Don’t push yourself too hard. I’ll try loosening mine.” They had to escape. The sooner the better. If not, then perhaps they could come to some sort of understanding with these women.
“Why did they cover our eyes anyway?” Saville asked as his gaze swept the room. “Any dolt could tell we’re in a brothel.”
Yes, and a cheap one at that. He surveyed the room. There wasn’t much else besides a bed, a washstand, and the two chairs they were secured to. Red, time-worn wallpaper covered the chamber and had begun to peel, and a cold breeze escaped through a ghastly set of matching curtains. Other than that, the laughter of women, distant grunts, and the cloying scent of perfume mixed with that of old furniture gave their location away.
A tavern. A warehouse. A brothel. This group of women really had masked themselves well.
The door opened and the red-cloaked woman entered, followed by a big bulky man with a scar on his face. Warrick snorted, sneering, “I see you dressed to match the mood of the room.”
She didn’t rise to his taunt. “And I see you’ve settled in nicely. We would have taken you to the warehouse, but we decided to bring you here, where at least your limbs won’t freeze from the cold. What do you think? Are you comfortable?”
Damn it. He knew that voice.Think, man.
