Her business took just under an hour, longer than she had expected because of opening the account for Anthony. A hundred thousand pounds’ lump sum, plus another twenty each month as per her contract, ought to help if he was as deep in debt as she thought. Whether he would appreciate this dowry of hers was another matter. Most men would. She just wasn’t sure Anthony was one of them.
Coming out of the bank, Roslynn was distracted, as her driver and the accompanying footman were, by the sight of two men engaged in fisticuffs up the street, something one might expect to see down by the waterfront, not here…
She didn’t finish the thought. An arm came around her waist from behind, cutting off her breath, and something hard and sharp poked in her side.
“No funny stuff this time, m’lady, or I’ll let ye see just ’ow sharp this ’ere sticker be.”
She said not a word. She was at first too surprised to, then too afraid when she realized what his “sticker” was. In broad daylight, right in front of a bank—this was incredible. And her carriage was right there, not five feet away. But she was being led behind it while the fight in front of it was still claiming everyone’s attention. Had that been planned as a distraction? Hell’s teeth, if this was Geordie’s doing—but it couldn’t be. He had been warned off, violently. He wouldn’t dare—would he?
She was shoved into an old coach, one with dark shades over the windows, and the fellow closed the door behind them after following her in. She started to get up off the floor, but a rough hand shoved her back down.
“Give me no trouble, m’lady, an’ this’ll go real easy fer ye,” he said as he stuffed a cloth in her mouth, then quickly tied her hands behind her back. He looked down at his handiwork, noticed her feet, and decided to take no chances, whipping a rope around her ankles. His chuckle was ugly as he plucked her dirk out of her boot. “Ye won’t be gettin’ another chance to use this on me brother.”
Roslynn groaned inwardly, hearing that. So he was one of the men from her last attempted abduction, Geordie’s men. Her cousin must be insane to still try and take her. He knew she was married. What the devil did he think he was doing? She stiffened, the answer coming to her. The only thing he could want with her now was revenge for her having eluded his well-planned trap.
The fellow left the coach, left her lying on the floor. A few moments later the old vehicle started to move.Roslynn turned over on her side to try and sit up. The gag in her mouth hadn’t been secured, and she frantically worked with her tongue to push it out. She had almost succeeded when the coach slowed down and she heard the driver shout, “That’s enough, Tom!”
A second later the door opened and another fellow jumped inside the coach. She recognized this one as the footpad she had taken a chunk out of with her dirk. His lip was bleeding, and he was out of breath. So the distractionhadbeen arranged. This was one of the pugilists, who had probably picked a fight with a stranger just so no one would notice when the other fellow led her away. And she had gone along willy-nilly, with a knife pricking her side, not making a single protest.
The fellow, Tom, was grinning at her as he lifted her up and set her on the seat across from him. He tucked her gag back in her mouth too, shaking his head at her in an amused way. At least he wasn’t vengeful for the hurt she had caused him the last time, or he didn’t seem to be. He was studying her and continued grinning. Finally he laughed.
“God, ye’re a bleedin’ beauty close up, ye are. Too good fer the likes o’ that bastard what’s payin’ us, I’d say.” She tried to speak through the gag, uselessly. “None o’ that, now. Thought we’d never get ye, but ’ere ye are. Be good, and there’ll be no cause to get rough wi’ ye.”
Her second warning not to cause trouble. So what would happen if she did? Stupid question, when she was bound up hand and foot and couldn’t make a sound louder than a squeak.
Chapter Thirty-eight
They brought her into the building tossed over Tom’s shoulder. They had waited first, however, until Wil, as the other, shorter man was called, had said that all was clear. Roslynn’s hopes picked up immediately. They were taking her somewhere where someone might stop and question them for treating her in this horrid manner. One good scream, if she got the chance, was all she might need to be rescued.
From her upside-down position, she saw little of the building before they entered it and she was being hurried up some stairs. But across the street were dwellings faced with brownstone, looking as if they belonged in a normal residential area, and one of fair quality. A boarding house, then? Likely, if no one was about at this time of the morning.
So this was where Geordie had moved, to a finer part of town? No wonder Anthony had so much trouble finding him when all he had to go by was that waterfront hovel where she had been taken last time. But little good it had done, his finding Geordie. And she had walked right into the trap, thinking herself safe at last. Hell’s teeth, but she despised Geordie for his Scot’s stubbornness in refusing to give up.
There was a brief stop while a door was pounded on. Then a few more steps and Roslynn was dumped into a chair. She groaned as she sat back on her bound arms, terribly sore now after the slow, long ride getting here. But she spared only a moment for the discomfort before glancing furiously about the room for a sight of Geordie.
When she saw him standing next to the bed, a folded shirt in hand, his valise open on the bed in the process of being packed, she simply stared, wondering who he was. But the carrot thatch of hair…
Roslynn grimaced, unable to help herself. If not for the hair, she wouldn’t have recognized him. He looked horrible. He looked as if he belonged in bed, not packing to leave. Good God, what Anthony had done to him! His whole face was discolored and puffed to twice its size, it seemed, one eye black and completely closed, the other bluish-purple and just able to open a mere slit. His nose was swollen and off center. His lips were caked with bloody crusts. There were other ugly scabs on his cheeks and above his eyes where the skin had cracked on bone.
He wasn’t looking at her, at least not now. He was staring at the two miscreants responsible for her presence, who were staring at him as if they’d never seen him before. Hadn’t they known he’d taken a beating? Hell’s teeth, had a mistake been made?
It had been. Geordie threw down his shirt in a rage, then groaned, grabbing his rib cage, the sharp movement ripping him apart with pain. Wilbert and Thomas Stow just stood there, not knowing what to think.
Geordie told them what to think, in a voice choked with rage, the words slurred because of puffed lips. “Ye idiots! Didna the lad I sent tae find ye give ye my note?”
“This?” Tom took out a scrap of paper from his pocket. “We can’t read, m’lord,” he stated with a shrug, letting the note drop to the floor.
Geordie made an ugly sound in his throat. “’Tiswhat I get fer hiring English dolts!” He pointed a stiff finger at Roslynn. “I dinna want her now. She married the bloody Englishmon!”
Wilbert and Thomas apparently thought that was funny. They started laughing, and Roslynn watched what wasn’t black-and-blue on Geordie’s face turn bright red. If what she had gone through to get here wasn’t so infuriating, she might have found the situation as it was amusing too.
Geordie didn’t. “Get oout, the both of ye!”
The pair stopped laughing. “When ye pay us, m’lord.”
Wilbert might have given him the title of respect, but there was no respect in his tone. In fact, the short, thickly bearded fellow looked absolutely menacing as he stared at Geordie. So did the bigger chap beside him. And Geordie had gone quiet, his rage replaced by something else. Roslynn’s eyes widened. He was afraid! Didn’t he have the money to pay them?
Geordie in fact had only enough money to get back to Scotland. He had counted on Roslynn’s money to pay his hirelings off. All that money, gone to the Englishman. It wasn’t fair. And now these two would probably kill him. And in his condition, he couldn’t even defend himself.
