The clanging of the key in the lock above them startled Phillip from his sleep. He quickly woke Sophie while pulling on his shirt. The lantern was still burning. They couldn’t have been asleep for longer than a few hours. What were their captors doing coming down in the middle of the night?
To be safe, Sophie had already dressed before she’d fallen asleep, so they were both soon up and standing in front of the cot. They watched the staircase with pounding hearts. Phillip glanced over at Sophie to give her a reassuring nod. The look she gave him made his heart wrench. She was clearly terrified.
“Don’t worry,” he breathed, giving her cold, shaking hand a comforting squeeze.
“I’m far past worry,” she replied, staring up at the top of the staircase as if a monster were about to enter the cellar.
The door swung open, and several pairs of feet began to descend the staircase. When a lantern came into view, icy dread shimmied down Phillip’s spine. The first man down the stairs was none other than Bell…and his wrists were shackled. Bell gave Phillip an apologetic look, just before Hugh and…Lord Hillsdale pushed him the rest of the way down the stairs and into the room.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Hugh sneered. “I thought you’d like to see your visitor.” Hugh was holding a pistol and poked it at Bell’s back as he said the words.
“Hillsdale,” Phillip breathed, unable to tear his gaze from the nobleman. “It was you.” If Hillsdale was here, then Vining had to be the man they called the Jackal. He had obviously been playing the part of a foolish, sweaty, incompetent when they’d first met, but Vining was clearly the mastermind these two had been waiting for.
Phillip narrowed his eyes at Hillsdale. There was no doubt. Hillsdale had been quite an actor, too. His voice was different. Strident and stentorian. Not at all the same nasally, obsequious drone Phillip remembered from the Cranberrys’ ball. Not a wonder neither he nor Sophie hadn’t been able to place it.
Bell cleared his throat. “I suppose this answers the question of why you never contacted Phillip to come to Whitehall and work out the issue with the title,” the marquess said to Hillsdale with a wide grin on his face.
“And I just remembered whose voice I heard in my stepmother’s salon,” Sophie whispered from beside Phillip, an apologetic look on her face.
Phillip gave her an ironic smile, and she shrugged.
“Lord Bellingham here has been kind enough to grace us with his presence,” Hillsdale said, ignoring their jibes. He, too, carried a pistol. “And he was also kind enough to provide us with shackles. We didn’t have any of those until he arrived.”
“My pleasure,” Bell said, bowing.
“Shut up!” Hugh demanded, frowning fiercely at Bell.
Bell frowned back.
“You might also be interested to hear that we know all about your secret passage out of this cellar,” Hillsdale continued, directing his remarks to Phillip.
Sophie gasped.
Phillip kept his face completely blank, but his stomach sank. They had Bell, and if they knew about the passageway from the cellar, it stood to reason the trapdoor was locked or being watched. The situation was becoming more dire by the moment.
Hillsdale’s grin turned positively evil. “Our man, Bonham—you remember him from your journey here, no doubt—found the footman you sent to deliver the note to Bellingham. We let him continue, of course. We thought Lord Bellingham might want to join this little party, and the footman wouldn’t breathe a word as long as we promised not to harm the housemaid he’s been shagging. Imagine our surprise when we found Lord Bellingham here, already hiding in the woods near the house.”
Phillip narrowed his eyes on Hillsdale as several thoughts raced through his head. So Bell had already figured out where they were. Bonham was probably the man he’d called Beefy. Had they done anything to Mrs. Jarvis, or had they only intercepted the footman?
“Go on,” Bell taunted. “If you’re going to shoot us, get it over with.”
“Lord Bellingham, please,” Sophie cried, fear sounding in her voice.
Phillip narrowed his eyes. He knew Bell well enough to know that he’d said those words for a reason. Bell must believe Hillsdale and Hugh weren’t in a hurry to kill the three of them. Why?
“Not so fast,” Hugh said. “The Jackal is on the way.”
“Shut up, you fool,” Hillsdale snapped at Hugh. “Not another word.”
“The Jackal,” Bell repeated with a snort. “Who, pray tell, is that? What sort of ass calls himself ‘the Jackal’? Honestly.”
Ignoring Bell, Hillsdale turned back toward Phillip. “We’ll be back…in the morning. In the meantime, we’ve already locked the door to the passage and if you try anything foolish, your friend here will end up dead. We’re taking Lord Bellingham with us so you don’t get clever together and try to plan an escape.”
Phillip cursed under his breath and watched impotently as the three went back up the way they came.
The door had barely shut and locked behind them when Sophie turned to Phillip, her eyes wide with fear. “If they have Lord Bellingham and know about the passage…”
“Then we’re in real trouble,” Phillip breathed.
