Page 27 of Only Pleasure Will Do

Chapter 12

For the second time that day, Reginald swam toward consciousness. With a nauseating pounding in his head, he squinted against the piercing light that shone directly in his eyes, like a knife to his brain. Groaning, he struggled to sit up, only to discover his hands tied behind him with a stout rope, making it difficult, in his groggy state, to heave himself into a sitting position.

“Damnation.” He collapsed back onto the dusty floor, panting from the slight exertion, the booming pain in his head subsiding only a little. Good thing he had an extremely hard head, else his brains might be oozing out of his ears. Lying on his side, he concentrated on relaxing every muscle, one by one. That accomplished, he tried to avoid thinking of anything as well, willing his head to calm. Deep breaths helped until the aching throb had diminished to a manageable level. Much more clearheaded now, he exhaled and pushed his body upwards.

The pounding in his head increased and his vision wavered, but with more deep breathing, the world came back into focus. The room hadn’t changed, save the sun had moved across the floor. By his reckoning, it was mid-afternoon. The villain’s blow had laid him low for a couple of hours. Where might Maddy be by now? In London, surely. Had she gained entry to Dunham House? Was she even now setting into motion the fiendish plot that would rob his cousin and her husband of their lives? That she would attempt to do so, he had no doubt. Any mother could be forced to do unspeakable things to save her child.

The child. She wasn’t here. An icy dread seized him. He’d put nothing past Redmond, including the murder of a—

“Pearl!” he called out as he struggled to his feet. Had they taken the girl after all? “Pearl?”

The thumping in his skull returned with the raising of his head, but he disregarded it as he swiftly moved toward the other room and stopped halfway over the threshold.

The child lay nestled in the rumpled covers of the cot, golden head pillowed on one delicate hand, sound asleep.

Reginald sighed, his thanks sent silently to God, and backed away. Let the girl sleep until he could find a way out of this prison. And the first step toward that end was to free his hands. He closed his eyes to better visualize the rope and position of his hands then began to systematically wiggle his hands back and forth. In his career, he’d seen thieves he’d tied up himself escape from their bonds in less than a minute. Fortunately, he’d observed and even asked questions of the more cooperative criminals.

Twisting his hands together then flexing his wrists and pulling at the rope loosened the bonds more quickly than Reginald had expected. After two huge pulls, the fibers slackened then slipped over his hands and fell to the floor with a soft plop. Rubbing his wrists to get some feeling back into them, he gazed up at the door. Still the best possible way out. If only there was something else he could use beside his knife… He bent suddenly, slapping the side of his boot, then relaxed as his hand met the familiar bulge of his knife. Redmond had either missed it or not even checked for a weapon. Perhaps his luck was in after all.

Still, the knife alone had been ineffectual before. Was there anything in the rooms he’d missed that could assist the blade in manipulating the pins? Still rubbing his aching wrists, he started a systematic search of the room. Anything metal and thin would do. A nail, a sliver of iron, a broken key. He studied the dirt floor, scraping his boot here and there to turn up anything that might’ve sifted down through the dust. Next, he followed the edge of the floor where it met the bricks, at the same time checking the walls for the remains of embedded metal hardware.

His circuit around the room yielded nothing useful, bringing forth a colorful curse. He should’ve made the same examination of the other room, but he was loath to wake the child. The poor little thing had been through a lot, though she was Maddy’s child. She’d be resilient. Still, he’d let her rest a while longer and instead try the door with the knife one more time. Pray God this time would be the charm.

Bounding up the stairs brought back his headache, so he slowed to a walk for the last few stairs. If they couldn’t manage to escape before dark, the chances of their coming to grief on the unfamiliar roads increased dramatically. He’d no idea if Pearl had ever ridden a horse and hoped the child wouldn’t be afraid of Marlow, his gray gelding. He shook his head, wincing at the pain. That would have to be dealt with if and when the time came. Navigating the roads at night would be a moot point if he couldn’t get them out of this place.

Withdrawing the knife from his boot, Reginald squatted and peered into the keyhole. No obstruction to his view, which was good, although it would’ve been most helpful had someone actually left the key in the lock. Their kidnappers did not, however, appear to be the helpful sort of villains. He inserted the knife’s blade into the keyhole, angling upward toward the lever, exerted pressure, held his breath and eased the blade backward to pull the bolt. A slight movement of the mechanism made a bead of sweat pop out on his brow. Was it going to work?

The knife’s blade skittered off the lever, twisted, and bit into Reginald’s forefinger, bringing a bead of blood.

“Devil take it!” He sucked the blood and spat it on the floor then fished out his handkerchief and wound it around the finger. He would have to have another piece of metal if he wanted to unlock this accursed door.

Trotting back down the stairs, he again racked his brain for something to use as a pick. Nothing came to mind. Might as well check the other room, although after his thorough scouring of the main room, he doubted the second chamber would hold anything useful either. He slowed when he reached the threshold, mindful of waking Pearl.

As soon as he entered the room, the drop in temperature was evident. As the sun had moved during the day, the light had grown dim, the air much cooler. He hurried to the fireplace, just as the last stick broke, sending a spray of sparks up into the chimney. Fortunately, there were more to hand, and he laid two lengths of spindly wood crosswise in the grate, blowing hard on the embers to get them to catch. Once he had a good fire going again, he stood and checked the cot.

Pearl remained asleep, her face innocent and beautiful in repose. Just like her mother. Well, not exactly an innocent, perhaps, but Maddy had retained an air of ingenuousness, despite her disreputable life. Perhaps hiding her sweet nature behind the façade of Amorina Vestry had allowed her to preserve an artlessness, a simplicity that harkened back to the time before her father died and Finch stole her virtue. He clenched his jaw. How different might Maddy’s life have been if not for that blackguard’s perfidy? After all she’d been through, the woman deserved a chance to live in peace with her daughter. If he could give her nothing else, he would like to give her that.

He began his methodical inspection of the room, peering at the walls, the floor, even the frame of the cot, but it had been put together with wooden pegs. There was simply no metal to be had in the room at all. If they couldn’t escape, they were truly at the mercy of Tommy Redmond and his gang. The villains could return and kill them outright or simply leave him and Pearl here in this basement to die of thirst. A gruesome fate he would not wish on anyone, but especially not a sweet six-year-old child.

To combat the sense of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him, he eased down onto the mattress, still marveling at the peacefulness of the child. He’d had no time for a family in his life so far, had no children, at least none he knew of, and he’d been careful about spreading his seed. Gazing at this lovely child, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. If Maddy’s father hadn’t died, if they’d been properly introduced, if he’d been less interested in a life of excitement and danger and more concerned with settling down and having a family then Pearl might well have been their child, his and Maddy’s.

A wave of longing stole over Reginald, something he’d never experienced before. A desire for a home, children, a wife to greet him with a loving kiss. Images of a small house in a quiet corner of the city rose in his mind. A woman with blond hair sat in a neat parlor doing needlework as they talked together of an evening. A troupe of noisy boys and girls paraded by, kissing them good night. Then they would retire, cozily snuggled together in bed. Every night for the rest of their lives. He sighed. Glimpses of a life not meant to be. At least not for him and Maddy.

If he and Pearl could find a way out of this prison, perhaps it was not too late for him to attain those things. Some of them, at least. He could take Pearl as his daughter, love and care for her as he’d promised Maddy. She would grow up as privileged as any young lady in Society, and cherished as no other child would be. If only he could see a future for Maddy, other than death. Either she accomplished her task and killed Lord and Lady Dalbury, thus becoming the object of a Bow Street hunt that would end with her swinging at the end of a rope. Or, she refused to do so, in which case Redmond would have no further need of her and would likely kill her in a fit of rage.

He clenched his hand until his nails bit his flesh and his palm ached. Damn, but he needed to do something. If he could escape with Pearl now, might he be able to intercept Maddy, dispose of the bomb, and keep her from committing cold-blooded murder to save him and the child she loved beyond herself?

“Damnit to hell!” He struck the end of the bed with his fist then winced as splinters of the old wood pricked his knuckles.

A wail from the head of the bed jerked his head around.

His outburst had awakened Pearl. She’d pulled herself into a tight ball, crouched at the head of the bed, whimpering and staring at him with fearful eyes.

“Hello, Pearl. Do you remember me?”

Silently, she nodded and pulled her arms tighter around her legs.

“I’m sorry to have awakened you so abruptly. I was angry and didn’t think before I shouted.” The alarm in her face lessened, yet the wariness didn’t fade. “I beg your pardon for that. Is that all right?”