LITMIR.BIZ

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room. No doubt the horrid beasts lurked there, too. She shuddered and swallowed the urge to beg.

      She peered through the peephole in the door into a kitchen much like the one in her own cottage, but not nearly as clean. From this angle, she had a view of an outer door and one end of the kitchen table.

      The outside door swung open and a dark-haired burly man stepped in with an air of command.

      ‘Is she awake?’ this new man asked.

      ‘Yes, Sarg.’

      The man who’d grabbed her from behind. Her heart picked up speed. She retreated to sit on the cot. The door of her prison opened, admitting the newcomer. Eleanor clutched the collar of her robe tight.

      ‘My lady, I hope you are feeling better?’ Polite, well spoken, but not a gentleman. And he’d also addressed her as my lady. How did he know? Who was he? Her chest felt terribly tight as her heart drummed a warning. She gave him her haughtiest of stares. ‘You have no right to keep me here against my will. I demand you release me, immediately.’

      Sarg laughed softly. ‘Very hoity-toity, my lady, and you a lightskirt and all.’

      Eleanor gasped. Her face heated. ‘How dare you? I am under the Marquess of Beauworth’s protection.’

      ‘’Tis the Marquess bade us keep you here. Do as you’re told and no harm will come to you.’

      Her stomach dropped in a sickening rush. Garrick knew who she was? She couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t. ‘You lie, you cur.’

      ‘Do I?’ His voice hardened. ‘Your brother has Beauworth’s property. And you are going to make sure it is returned.’

      An odd sort of numbness enveloped her mind. It was as if she didn’t want to feel the pain of the truth. For if this man knew her identity, then Garrick must know, too. How? Had she said something unwittingly? And why had he said nothing? Her stomach churned. She’d trusted him. Trusted his word that William was safe. Apparently Garrick, having enjoyed her favours, was striking out at her brother. But why? What on earth could he want? ‘Lord Castlefield has nothing belonging to the Marquess.’

      Caleb entered the room, grunting under the weight of a table and a wooden stool. ‘Where do you want them, Sarg?’

      Sarg pointed to the far side of the room under the window. ‘There. Bring paper and quills.’

      The man cast her a leering glance, then shambled out, only to return with writing implements. He set them on the table, all the while casting sly looks in her direction, seeming to peer right through her clothing. Revolting beast. If only she had a pistol or even her sword, she’d teach him a lesson in manners.

      Sarg raised a brow. ‘We brought your clothes, my lady. I will have Millie bring them to you, once you have written the letter to your brother.’

      ‘My brother is abroad, fighting for his country.’

      ‘Was abroad. His ship docked in Portsmouth three days since.’

      She stifled a gasp with her hand. ‘How do you know?’

      ‘We’ve been watching.’

      Someone had planned this very carefully. The realisation rolled up from her stomach, dark and sour and thick, like the winter fogs that slid up from a river. What could Garrick possibly want? ‘I’m not writing anything to William.’

      ‘Perhaps Caleb can change your mind.’ The threat was delivered without a change of expression in the grim face staring down at her. Her heart missed a beat as Caleb grinned over Sarg’s shoulder. She closed her eyes briefly. She couldn’t suffer that man to touch her. ‘Very well. I will write your letter.’

      Caleb stomped out of the room.

      At Sarg’s gesture, she seated herself at the desk. The sheet of paper was blank. She glanced up in question.

      ‘Write this,’ Sarg said.

      If you care to see me alive again, dearest William, please obey the bearers of this note. Only then will I remain, as I am now, unharmed. She signed, Your sister, Lady Eleanor Hadley.

      She jumped when Sarg placed a calloused hand on her neck. She desperately wanted to jerk away. Instead, she held perfectly still. ‘Don’t touch me, you fiend.’

      ‘Will your brother recognise this little trinket?’ His finger looped under the ribbon around her neck.

      ‘Yes.’

      The man undid the clasp. Eleanor could not repress her shudder as his fingers touched her nape. The moment he drew the chain from her neck, she got up and moved away. He picked up the letter and left without a word. Caleb followed him out.

      Drained, Eleanor sank on to the bed, her hands covering her face. This was all so dreadful. It seemed the Marquess had fooled her completely, taken her in. What could William have that was so important to him? The note told her nothing.

      What a fool she was, to be sure. Every step she took exploded in her face like a faulty pistol. Never again. She had learned her lesson. In future she would never interfere in things that were not her business. If she had a future.

      Millie shuffled in. ‘My lady, here are your clothes. Would you like help?’

      The woman seemed genuinely regretful, far more kindly than the men. ‘No, thank you. I am used to looking after myself.’ Eleanor eyed the modest grey gown with longing. ‘I would, however, appreciate something to cover the hole in the door.’

      ‘Ye can use my apron.’ The woman undid the tapes and dropped it on the end of the bed. ‘Just while ye dress.’ She left.

      After covering the peephole, and half-afraid that Caleb might decide to check on her progress, Eleanor dressed quickly. She tidied her hair, though without pins she could only leave it in a long braid down her back. Properly clothed, she felt a whole lot less exposed.

      On the other side of the door, the woman moved around, humming softly to the sound of chopping and stirring. The revolting smell of boiling meat filled the air. Of Caleb and the man they called Sarg, she heard nothing.

      The window offered her only hope of escape. Past the spiders. She shuddered. She had to try now, while they couldn’t see in. She climbed up on the desk, pulled her sleeve down over her hand and swiped at nasty clinging webs. One floated against her face. Ugh. She brushed at it wildly. The table wobbled. She grabbed at the ledge. Don’t think about hairy bodies and long legs. Gritting her teeth, her mouth dry, a lump in her throat, and her shaky breath loud in her ears, she peered outside.

      Nothing but trees. No view. No landmarks. If she managed an escape, which way to go? It didn’t matter. Anywhere would be better than here.

      She pushed up on the sash. It refused to budge. She banged upwards with the heel of her hands. The rough wooden frame dug into her palms and the window shot up with a bang. A cobweb tickled her nose. She squeaked, yanked the window closed and jumped down. She tipped over the stool and smashed her plate on to the floor just as Millie and Caleb ran in.

      ‘Oh, ho,’ said Caleb, looking from the stool and the plate to her. ‘There’s that temper again. I’ll tie you to the bed if you’re going to start them sort of tricks.’

      He loomed over her. Eleanor shrank away. ‘I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.’

      ‘Aye. Well, you threw it down, you pick it up. Nay, Millie, do not help her. She better learn some manners right quick, or I will give her a lesson she won’t forget.’ His hand went to the belt at his waist.

      Eleanor knelt swiftly and picked up the shards of pottery and crusts of bread. They watched her silently. She scooped them on to the tray and righted the stool.

      Caleb pulled down the cloth that covered the peephole and ushered Millie out, leaving the door open. ‘Break another platter, my lady, and you’ll eat off the floor.’

      Not until she was sure no one was watching

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