Toward thehouse? Why would Dunn take her back toward the house, where it was much more likely they’d be seen? It didn’tmake any sense—
Samuel went still, a chill rolling over him as Brixton’s words came back to him.
Ye ever been in that pond, Lymington? It’shalf ice still.
There was one place Dunn could take Emma where they wouldn’t be seen, and where no one was likely to find her…
Samuel met Brixton’s eyes. “I knowwhere Emma is.”
Chapter Twenty-four
It was a long time before Emma realized Lord Dunn had taken her to the icehouse.
She might have grasped it sooner, but being attacked in a folly and dragged away with a blackguard’s hand slapped over her mouth was a harrowing experience.
Shock made her hazy, and nausea swamped her every time she thought about how Lord Dunn might have incapacitated Daniel, who wasn’t the sort of man who was easily overcome. Her mind helpfully offered more than one gruesome scenario, until she forced herself to stop dwelling on it, lest her calmdeserted her.
Hysterics were out of the question. Things were bad enough, without that.
But the icehouse wasn’t a welcoming place, not even in the daylight, and it was far worse now that the sun had slipped below the horizon. It was as dark as Hades, and just as frightening.
Ideal, though, if one were intent on a kidnapping. Certainly, no one would hear her scream from here.
She hadn’t thought much about the cold at first—dark places were often cold—but no one could ignore such frigidity for long. It was positively artic, as if the entire building wereburied in ice—
Ice. Of course.
It all fell into place, then. The fragments of ice still floating in the pond, the low brick doorway set into the side of the steep hill that wasn’t a hill at all, or even a feature of the landscape, as she’dfirst assumed.
It was a mound, and where there was a mound, there was bound to be a pit. In this case, an ice pit, the excavated earth fashioned into a mound over the top to keep the ice as cold as possible.
It did an admirable job of it. Emma wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. Thank goodness for Lady Crosby, who’d reminded her towear her cloak.
She didn’t bother to try the door—she’d heard a metallic click after Lord Dunn slammed it shut, the scrape of an iron key in a lock—and knew he’d locked her inside.
It could be some time still before Lord Dunn returned to deal with her. He’d want to make certain everyone noticed him at Lymington House, so they’d be less likely to suspect him of any wrongdoing when they discovered she’d gone missing. He might even wait for Lord Lovell to leave the house, so it would be easier to implicate him in herdisappearance.
Lord Dunn was clever that way, but in the end, not clever enough. His fate was already sealed, no matter what happened to Emma.
He simply didn’t know it yet.
And Emma hadn’t been idle, while he’d been gone. It wasn’t easy, finding her way about in total darkness, but Lord Dunn had left her plenty of time to orient herself. Foolish of him, really, but he wasn’t the first gentleman who’d underestimated her.
She’d taken her time, even sinking to her knees and crawling with her hands out in front of her, searching for the edge of the ice pit. There weren’t many ways to make her situation worse than it was now, but falling into the ice pit was one of them.
In the end, all her creeping about paid off, because she’d found what she was looking for. Well, notpreciselywhat she was looking for—she would have preferred an ice hook, or better yet an ice pick, as she had a horror of blades—but it was a great stroke of luck she’d found anything at all.
The axe was on the smaller side, and the blade end nearly rusted through. It wasn’t in fine condition, which was likely why it had been left behind, but it would do, for her purposes. The edge of the blade was dull, but she could defend herself with it if she swung with enough force. It might be difficult, as her hands had long since gone numb, but she’d simply haveto do her best.
Except her knees were a trifle wobbly. Her cloak was damp, and she was already shuddering with cold, her teeth chattering. She might sit on the floor and attempt to regain her equilibrium, but it was stone, and nearly as cold as the ice itself.
If nothing else brought this to a tragic end, the cold would. If she fell asleep out here, she might never wake up. So Emma kept moving, pacing from one end of the icehouse to the other, stamping her feet, rubbing her hands together, and waiting.
It was impossible to keep track of the time down here, so she wasn’t sure how long it had been when she heard the muffled thud of a man’s boots on the pathway outsidethe icehouse.
Enough time that she could no longer feel her hands or her feet.
She heard the scrape of the key in the lock, and a moment later, the icehouse door opened. It was much too dark for her to make out Lord Dunn’s features—all she saw was the shadowy silhouette of a towering figure looming at the top of the stone steps.
