Breathing harshly, straightening, Matthew came to her and looked her over, concern reflected in his eyes. With a grimace, he gently touched her jaw. It was tender, and she suspected it was already showing signs of bruising. “Did he harm you anywhere else?”
“No.” A lie. How did she explain the pain he’d caused her heart? “He claims to be my father.”
“I thought your father died at war.”
She nodded jerkily, shook her head. “My mother told me she loved my father, but how could she love that?”
“He could have been lying. Do you have any rope so I can bind him before going to fetch a constable?”
“No, but I have my kite string.”
“I can make do with that. Will you fetch it for me?”
She ran up to her lodgings, got a pair of scissors, and cut the reel of string from her kite, then hurried back downstairs to where Matthew waited. When she arrived, he rolled the man named Dibble over onto his belly and held out his hand for the string. “I can tie him.”
“Make it tight.”
He brought Dibble’s wrists together. She knelt and began wrapping the kite string around, over and under, his wrists. “He said his name is Dibble.”
“You’ve never seen him before?”
“No.”
“Fancy, he was probably lying. Part of a game he plays to dupe someone into giving him what he was seeking to obtain.”
She desperately wanted that to be true, but he’d been so confident. “What do you think will happen to him?”
“The constables will lock him up in a cell. In a few days he’ll go to trial for attempted robbery and accosting you.”
She drew some comfort from his words, wanting Dibble locked up for being a nasty bit of rubbish if nothing else.
“There, that’s good. Cut the string, knot up the ends.”
As she tried to position the scissors, she realized her hands were shaking too badly. Matthew closed his hand over hers. “It’s all right.” Taking the scissors from her, he finished off the task. Then moved down to Dibble’s feet. “I don’t want him getting up and running off while I’m gone.”
“I have a skillet. I could conk him on the head if he wakes.”
“That’s my girl.”
When Dibble was tightly bound, Matthew cradled her cheek. “I won’t be long. Close the door, bolt it in case he has friends. Don’t open it until I call for you.”
“You will be careful.”
He gave her a cocky grin. “I will be back, I promise.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his handkerchief and stuffed it into Dibble’s mouth. “For good measure, in case he wakes up. You don’t need to hear his horrid words.”
Then he was gone, and she was left alone with this vile creature. After bolting the door, she moved nearer to him, crouched, and studied his face, searching for any familiar characteristics, looking for any of herself in him.
It was impossible to know what his nose might have once looked like because it appeared to have been broken or smashed several times. She wondered if he was a boxer by trade. She couldn’t imagine that he was a very successful one. She recalled his eyes being dark, but she was rather certain she’d gotten her eyes from her mum. Black hair, but so was her mum’s.
His cheeks were rounded. Hers high and sharp. He had a mole on his jaw near his ear. She had no moles.
His eyes popped open, and she fell on her bottom in surprise. He began struggling with the bindings and groaning.
“You won’t free yourself. You might as well save your energy.”
To her astonishment, he went still and glared at her. He said something but she couldn’t make out the words through the cloth. She scooted back until she felt the wall behind her. “I have no interest in hearing your lies.”
Then she waited for what seemed like an eternity for Matthew to return. When she heard him calling for her on the other side of the door, she’d never known such joy. Nor had she ever seen him so authoritative as he ordered the constables about. They were deferential toward him, seeming to want to ensure they worked to his satisfaction. The first night she’d had the impression he was accustomed to being in command. But now here was clearer evidence that he was a man not only willing to take charge, but comfortable doing so.
