Clementine cocked an eyebrow at him, daring him to gamble Madelina’s life.
Jasper uncoiled fists he didn’t recall making. He turned back to the window. The home that let rooms on the top floor sailed past. He closed his eyes again, recalling his elation when he learned that Madelina was having him watched. That she had enough interest in him to spy on him. The carriage slowed.
“We’re here, dearest,” Clementine said. “Remember to be on your best behavior.”
Jasper didn’t reply as he slid across his seat to open the door.
Chapter Nineteen
The hands restraining Madelina heaved. She flew through the air, hit the tile floor, and skidded until she crashed against the tub. The door to the room slammed closed. The lock turned with a click.
She lay for a moment, gasping, then thrashed against her chains. Sighting the end of the one they’d wrapped about her, she rolled away. Chain unraveled across the floor behind her. She’d no doubt they could hear the racket through the door. Hands still clamped behind her, she wiggled her way to a wall and levered to her feet, shoulders braced against the cold tile. As she stood, she could see that someone had emptied the dirty water from the tub. Only a few of the candles had burned out.
She shuffled to the dressing table and used it to tug her skirt askew until she could reach the hairpins she’d hidden in her dress. Getting one in each hand, she started the arduous task of picking the lock on the right manacle. The angle made her wrists seize with pain. She forced her fingers to keep working. There was no way to know how long they would leave her unattended. She struggled to balance haste, judicious movement, and fear.
Another candle guttered out, and another. Time ticked by. It felt like more than enough time had passed for Jasper to say his vows, but with tension thrumming through her, Madelina doubted her grasp on the passage of time. Her wrist screamed in pain. Still, she kept working. There was nothing else she could do.
Finally, with a click so loud it elicited a wince, the manacle on her right wrist fell open. She brought her arms around front and shook her hands. She rubbed her aching wrist, then tried to massage feeling back into her fingers before starting on the left manacle.
The second manacle came off in moments. She sat on the floor to unshackle her ankles. Three more candles guttered out before the final band fell free.
She surged to her feet and hurried about the room, extinguishing all but two candles. Each time one went out, she would light one she’d extinguished.
Candles saved, she hurried to the door and pressed her ear to the wood. Two men spoke in low voices, but that didn’t mean only two waited without. As she had earlier, she got the chair from the dressing table and quietly braced it against the door. She’d have a little extra time if they tried to enter.
She collected a candle and returned to the door, bending low to examine the lock. Through the keyhole, she saw one of the men but not the far door. If more men remained, they likely guarded the door to the bathing room and the door to the hall.
A crash sounded somewhere in the house, followed by what she thought were pistol reports. Two guards came into view as they stepped away from the walls beside the bathing room door. They crossed to speak with the man in the middle of the room.
Taking advantage of their distraction, Madelina set the candle down and stuck her makeshift lockpicks into the lock. Not designed to imprison, the lock readily gave way. In hast, she looped her hair into a tight bun and put the pins to their natural use, then put her eye back to the keyhole. Three men still stood in the middle of the room. She wished she could see the far door, to know how many guarded there. One of her candles went out.
She lit another and set it aside to return to the pile of chain she’d left on the floor. She extracted the section that strung shackles and manacles together. A nice, heavy length of chain. Not as good as a pistol, but greater reach than a knife.
Holding the chain away from her so it wouldn’t brush her skirt and rattle, she returned to the door. A peek through the keyhole showed four men in the center of the room now, all facing away from her. Somewhere deeper in the house, a shot sounded, nearer this time. A man yelled.
One of the candles sputtered out. She straightened and squared her shoulders. Silently, she slid the chair away, put a hand on the knob, turned, and cracked open the door.
A quick glance showed only the four men, backs to her, arrayed in the middle of the room. Another shot came from the hall. Slowly, Madelina pushed the door open wider.
“Go see what’s the matter,” one of the men ordered.
“You go. No one you sent has come back,” another replied.
“I said go,” the first speaker growled. “Don’t you get it? If you fail Madam Dequenne, she won’t stop with punishing you. She’ll kill your mum, your pop, your sisters. Anyone you care about. Now go.”
The man who spoke grabbed another and shoved him at the door on the far side of the room. The momentum of the shove didn’t carry him far but once in motion, he kept walking. He pulled a pistol from his belt as he crept to the hall door.
The remaining three had pistols, as well, none drawn. Madelina slipped from the bathing room and crept nearer to them while their attention remained riveted on the guard sneaking toward the hallway. Slowly, she passed the chain to her off hand. A shout sounded in the hall. A thud. The men flinched.
Madelina halted just behind them. She drew in a deep, silent breath. The man crossing the room reached the doorway and passed through. One of the men in front of her started to turn.
She yanked his pistol from his belt, cocked it, and fired at his thigh. He yowled as she reversed the spent weapon and slammed the hilt into the face of a man who whirled. He cursed, dropping the pistol he’d pulled free. The weapon struck the floor and an earsplitting bang filled the room as it went off.
The man she’d hit jumped back. The one she’d shot writhed on the floor, screaming, smearing blood. The third one had his pistol pointed at Madelina.
She dropped the spent gun. Tossing the chain to her dominant hand, she ducked. A pistol ball flew over her head. She lashed the chain at the man’s ankles, tangled him, yanked. He toppled with a shout.
Before she could free the chain, the one she’d hit with the pistol butt charged. She released the chain and dodged. He skidded in the first man’s blood. Madelina pivoted back and stuck out a leg, sweeping his. He smashed face-first into the floor.
