“Yes, but she saw what happened,” Nicole countered. “You were outnumbered.”
He shook his head and glanced at her. “I keep thinking there’s still something odd about all of this.”
“Like what?” Nicole asked.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense, but at the moment all I care about is getting Regina back safely.”
“Yes,” Nicole replied. “We can worry about the kidnappers’ motives later.”
“Their motives are important. Learning why they want her will help us discern why they’re doing what they’re doing, and possibly who they are,” Daffin said.
Nicole nodded. She’d been trained by Daffin himself. They both knew she understood why it was important to learn the kidnappers’ motives. “I’m just so worried about Regina I can’t think straight.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, staring unseeing out the window. “I’m going to get her back, and then I’m going to make the bastard who took her pay.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Regina’s eyes fluttered open. Panic flooded her. She had a raging headache and was lying on a dirty mattress on the floor in a darkened room. The same room she’d been in for what felt like days. From the bustle that reached her ears from outside the window, she’d guessed they were in London, and a busy part of the city at that. Her wrists were bound tightly in front of her and her ankles were also tied so she couldn’t move from the mattress. The rope chafed her delicate skin, making it bleed.
She glanced down at herself. She was still wearing only her shift, but the last time she’d awoken, she’d recognized her clothing, the gown and pelisse she’d worn to the village, thrown in a corner.
The room smelled of mildew and dust, as if it hadn’t been used in an age. The only furnishing was the mattress on the floor and a dirty, torn blanket that had been tossed over her.
She had no way of knowing how long she’d been here. The only person she’d seen was the man who’d grabbed her and tossed her into the coach while his cohorts had waylaid Daffin and Mark. He returned at odd times with a glass of cloudy water that he forced her to drink. It made her brain foggy and she quickly fell back to sleep.
Her family must be sick with worry. She was putting the people she loved in danger, because she knew without a doubt that as she lay here uselessly, they were forming a plot to save her. Unless they all believed she was dead. Why wasn’t she? She suspected the only reason was because whoever had kidnapped her wanted something. What? Money? She’d tried to get him to talk to her once, but he had stuffed a dirty rag in her mouth and tied it behind her head. When Cousin John died, Nicole and Daffin had trained her in the skills of investigation. She remembered the right questions to ask, if only she could persuade her abductor to speak to her.
She was going to have to save herself. Her friends would be coming to save her, but she needed to escape and get back to them before she put them in such danger. She could just imagine Nicole pleading with Mark to allow her to help save Regina. She couldn’t let her pregnant cousin do such a thing. Regina had to save herself, and she could only guess there wasn’t much time.
She glanced around the dark room. Night had fallen. She had no idea what day of the week it was. The man left her alone mostly, other than bouts of stopping in to give her more water laced with drugs. Despite her foggy head, she had to gather the wits she had left to attempt to escape the next time he came.
Hours seemed to pass before the door finally wrenched open and the man who’d abducted her stuck in his head.
“Ahh, you’re awake, my lady. Time for more laudanum.”
She waited for him to come and remove the rag tied behind her head over her mouth before she struggled to sit up. The last time he’d come, he’d given her some bread and jam and untied her so she could use the bedpan he’d provided for her personal needs.
“Please untie my wrists,” she said as soon as the gag was out of her mouth.
“Why would I do that?” he said.
This time she got a better look at him. He was older than she expected. He looked to be at least fifty. He was of medium height and build. Dark hair, dark eyes, a moustache. She did not recognize him.
“My wrists are sore,” she said, trying to appeal to any bit of empathy he might own.
Instead, he threw back his head and laughed. “You pampered aristocrats. You think the entire world should cater to you.”
Regina snapped her mouth shut. “Who are you?” She’d never been so bold with him, but she wanted to know, and the laudanum had finally worn off.
“Name’s Quinton. That’s all you need to know.”
Regina stuck the name in her memory. She didn’t recognize it.
“Not that it would mean anything to you… but your friend the Bow Street Runner might remember me,” he continued.
“Daffin?” She shook her head.
Quinton smirked. “Ah, on a first-name basis.”
