Yet, to his surprise, there was a click as the door was unlocked, and a butler stood blocking the doorway. Unusually, his shoulders were broad, and his coat fitted him imperfectly, having been designed, it appeared, for a younger man.
“I’m here to see Howard Winston,” George said.
“I’m afraid he’s not in, Sir.”
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you.” Opting to take the man by surprise, he barged through, using his cane to brace against the butler’s chest. Once inside, he looked around the marble hallway with some surprise. A vase he suspected was extremely valuable sat on a small, walnut table, glossy and gilded, and paintings adorned the walls.
“You cannot—” the butler began.
George ignored him and strode toward what he thought might be the drawing room. When he came to it, crammed uncomfortably full of an obnoxious display of wealth, he discovered it was empty. Regardless, he needed to make as much noise and draw as much attention to himself as possible so Lady Averley could find Sybil, so he whirled to face the butler again.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice cracking through the silence like a whip. “Where is Howard Winston? Or, failing that, perhaps you can direct me to Lady Sybil? I know she is being housed here somewhere.”
The butler, to his credit, barely allowed his expression to flicker at the sound of her name. “I’m afraid I cannot help you, Sir.”
At the sound of footsteps down the stairs, George strode out to the hallway once again, coming face to face with Howard Winston. Immediately, he recognized the man from Hyde Park, but up close he appreciated how physically unprepossessing he was. He had to be sixty if a day, with sunken eyes, puffy cheeks, and a rounded stomach that put his uncle to shame
“Mr. Winston,” George said, gripping the top of his cane even as he kept his voice polite. “Just the man I came to see.”
Howard’s eyes flickered to his butler. “What is he doing here? Get him out.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” George said smoothly, holding out a hand. “I am a Duke, after all.”
“Fiddlesticks.”
“Not in the slightest, I assure you.”
“Duke or not, you are trespassing in my home and I will not have it.” Howard’s face turned an alarming shade of purple. “Leave at once.”
George smiled and rolled up the sleeves of his coat. This was the fight he had been waiting for. “Why don’t you make me?”
* * *
Shouts filtered through the door to where Sybil sat, her hands numb behind her and her shoulders a mass of pain. The two manservants who had been keeping watch on her exchanged a glance and walked up the stairs, opening the door and leaving the room.
This was her moment. Wincing at the pain of the rope biting into her skin, she wiggled her wrists, searching for a weakness so she could pull herself free. The friction burned, and she bit her lip. Just a little more. Just a little further.
The door opened again and she froze. The servants were back already? She could still hear shouting, however, and there was only one pair of footsteps on the stairs. Peering into the gloom, she bit back a gasp as a hooded figure came into view.
“Sybil?” The figure flung back the hood and it was her mother. Hermotherwas here in Howard’s cellar, kneeling by her and addressing herself to the knots around her wrists with trembling figures.
“Mama?”
“I’ve come to get you out,” she said unnecessarily, cursing under her breath as she struggled with the rope. Sybil had always known her mother had an extensive vocabulary, but at the crassness of the word, she caught her breath.
“Why are you here?”
“I knew you had been taken as soon as you didn’t come home. He had threatened to take you, and I—” She broke off, finally releasing Sybil’s hands. “Come, we must leave.”
Sybil flung her arms around her mother. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she refused to cry. “Thank you.”
For a second, her mother hugged her back, and in Howard’s cellar, among discarded pieces of rope and dust on the floor, they embraced. Mother and daughter, united as one. If there was not so much commotion going on above, it might have been a touching moment. As it was, Sybil pulled back and set her jaw.
“What’s happening?”
“The Duke of Danver is providing the distraction we need to get you out. The servants’ door is unlocked. Here, I brought a cloak for you.” She undid the ties around her hood and pulled it off, revealing another cloak underneath. Sybil accepted it in a daze, unable to process the information properly.
“George is here?”
