He had to stay alive. Even if Hetty did accept the engagement was at an end and returned home to Digswell, which he doubted, what would happen when Vincent took up residence in Rosecroft Hall? When she grew suspicious, it would place her in terrible danger. He wasn’t prepared to let that happen.
“How did you find these tunnels?”
Vincent smiled with boyish enthusiasm. “Remember how often Papa told us stories about the tunnel that leads to the wood? And how it had been an escape route for priests during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. But I didn’t know exactly where it was.”
“You searched for it? How did you evade my servants?”
“I move about the house late at night.”
“I made a thorough search for the tunnel under the solar and failed to find it. Where is the entrance?” Guy asked.
“I doubt I would’ve found it either had I started my search inside the house. I located the tunnel entrance in the wood. It lies close to the eastern wing.”
“Near the fountain?”
“You can see the fountain through the trees; it’s so close you can feel the spray from it when the wind blows. It’s covered by a moss-covered stone tablet, which was quite heavy to lift. Steps lead down and the tunnel branches out into these storerooms. I daresay, priests lived here at one time. Maybe some even starved to death here, no?
Vincent’s eyes gleamed. He acted as though they were young brothers again, sharing a secret. “I emerged in the far corner of the long storage room beneath the solar. The door fits into the wall so snug it would be impossible to find without some prior knowledge. You must locate the exact spot. Once pressed, it releases the catch.”
“So, you can come and go undetected,” Guy said. “Smart of you.”
“I’ve learned to be, because life was hard.”
Vincent nodded with a satisfied smile.
“I brought you here because it makes a perfect prison. I hefted you down through the tunnels. You are no lightweight! No one saw me. No one will ever discover you’ve been here.” He raised a brow. “I shan’t kill you here, though. If you behave, you may enjoy what there is left of your life.”
Guy’s heart thudded in his throat. “You would murder your own flesh and blood?”
“I don’t blame you for the past, Guy. But don’t try to change my mind. I’ve very little choice. There’s nothing out there for me. If I fail, the British government will hang, draw, and quarter me. Not a good way to die. I burned my bridges in France. This or suicide is all I have left.”
“You can’t mean it,” Guy said, chilled to the bone. Unthinkable, that Vincent should kill himself and be buried in unconsecrated ground.
“I do. Now Napoleon’s finished.”
“You were close to the general?”
“Napoleon relied on me. He called meLe Renard. There are those who plot to rescue him once more. They wish me to join them.” Vincent shook his head. “I won’t, because this time it will not work.” He walked to the door. “I’ll fetch more food from the next room. I want you fit enough for the trip to London.”
“We return to London?”
Vincent cast him a pitying look. He went out, locking the arched wooden door behind him.
Guy recalled the disturbing words said in such a flat unemotional tone. He leaned his arms on his knees on the uncomfortable chair, his thoughts racing as he considered possible means of escape. Was it possible to wrestle the gun from Vincent? He looked to be every bit as strong as he, and right now in better shape, but Guy had to try.
As a boy, Vincent was often cruel. He ran wild and liked to torment animals and tease his little sister. But how did he become such a ruthless murderer? Guy was glad his father wasn’t here to witness it.
Chapter Eighteen
It took twohours through roads clogged with London traffic before Hetty and Genevieve arrived in Hampstead Village. Lord and Lady Taylor’s Portland stone mansion was surrounded by a high stone wall.
The duchess’s name opened the door to them like magic. They were ushered into a drawing room papered in crimson, cream, and gold and seated on a sofa with cream velvet cushions and rosewood arms. Guy’s sister wasted little time peppering them with questions in her thick French accent.
While Lady Taylor appeared captivated by the small duchess, Lord Taylor’s thin face bore a haughty expression. “Lord Strathairn visited this morning,” he said, as if one morning call at an inappropriate time was bad enough. He settled his boney frame on the chair and crossed his legs. “My wife and I had little to tell him. Lord Fortescue was last seen dancing with Lady Georgina Haldane. I have since sent letters to each of our guests. Many have replied with no knowledge of the baron’s whereabouts.”
“Lord Strathairn was in a fearful hurry.” Lady Taylor twisted her mouth. “He has visited our other neighbors before luncheon. And I’ve no idea why he felt it necessary. It’s nonsense to imagine Lord Fortescue was snatched from our home. He must have left of his own free will.”
“Lord Fortescue would not be so ill-mannered to leave without seeking you out and thanking you,” Hetty said.
