In other words, she’d be beaten as she’d never been beaten before. She squared her jaw. “Abundantly clear.”
How had she stayed in this vile place all these years? Her efforts to help the Crown had all been for naught. She’d brought no real change. Father continued in his vile quest. The Irish radicals pressed on in their push for separation.
Her father’s cruel gaze threatened to bore a hole through her. It was as though he sought signs of her deceit.
The steady thump of Jamie’s boots grew louder. He stepped back into the kitchen and closed the cellar door behind him.
Desperate, Georgina turned her entreaty to Jamie.
His pale blue eyes slid away from her. And Georgina knew—there was no one who could protect her from Stone. No one other than herself.
While she listened with fast spiraling terror as her father and Jamie finalized their plans with Stone, her mind turned over possible ways to free Adam. The newest captive presented countless difficulties. How could she free them both? How, when they were imprisoned in two different parts of the house?
Then, as if she mattered no more than a chambermaid, Father and Jamie took their leave and Georgina was alone with the beast.
Squaring her shoulders, she walked a wide berth around the towering man who filled her small kitchen, careful to keep him in her sights. Georgina fetched a plate from the cabinet and proceeded to fill it with a large chunk of crusty, white bread and slices of cheese. Next, she reached for a glass and filled it from a pitcher of water.
All the while, Stone studied her through hooded eyes. “If you’re preparing an afternoon meal, I’d welcome something to eat.”
Georgina fetched a small bowl from the windowsill. She concentrated on grinding up the leaves, comfrey root, and mint leaves she’d blended together earlier that morning. “I’m not preparing a meal,” she snapped.
Stone arched a brow. “Then what are you doing?”
Damn him for being an insolent, deliberately taunting bastard.
Georgina held his intent gaze, refusing to be cowed. “Seeing to my responsibilities.” It was sheer madness to bait him, but Georgina would not give him the pleasure of toying with her the way a cat tormented a mouse. “I have to care for the man you and my father brutalized.”
He bowed his head, gesturing to the door leading to the cellar. “Very well then, Miss Wilcox.”
Georgina picked up the tray and hurried downstairs.
The murky darkness enshrouded her in its fold. As she descended, she gave thanks that Adam had been closed away on the main living quarters away from the nightmarish darkness of the cellars. On the heels of that was guilt for the poor soul her father had trapped down here.
“So you’ve returned, you bastard.”
Georgina paused. A single candle had been lit. Instead of illuminating the constricted space, it cast ominous shadows around the room. This was the kind of place ghosts inhabited. She tamped down childlike fears.
“You’re a bloody coward. Do you hear me? They’ll find you and when they do—”
Georgina interrupted the stranger’s tirade, sparing him his energy. “I’ve come to help you.”
For the span of a heartbeat, the man said nothing. Then, “Are you here to free me?”
It was always the same. The vitriolic diatribe, followed by desperate hope.
She must. She couldn’t wait any longer, but how would that be possible with Stone? Georgina said nothing.
The man sighed.
Georgina set the tray down and eyed him warily.
The stranger bowed his head. “I won’t hurt you.”
She moved closer. A gasp escaped her.
His face was swollen. He could barely open his eyes.
Through cracked and swollen lips, he managed a grin. “That bad?”
She swallowed. “That bad.” She reached for the clean cloth in the washbasin as she swallowed the burning shame that her father had wrought such damage. Ringing out the scrap of linen, she held it out and froze. “May I?”
He inclined his head. “I’d be glad if you would.”
Georgina set to work bathing the man’s face. Her stomach rolled at the stench of blood.
“Blood bothers you.” It wasn’t a question.
“You are perceptive,” she murmured.
“I’d imagine you see your fair share of it, here.”
She managed a jerky nod. “I do.”
“I’d imagine you must have a very good reason for staying.”
Very perceptive, indeed.
Georgina gently grasped his chin. “Tilt this way a bit,” she murmured.
He complied. “I take that as a yes.”
She dabbed at his lip. He didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t think it was a question.”
“Perceptive girl.”
Apparently, the sentiments were mutual.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Georgina.”
He bowed his head. “Charles Blakely at your service.”
His refined, regal tones indicated he was a man of importance. Surely, there were powerful people looking for Mr. Blakely? And Adam. Her father played a dangerous game and eventually he would be caught.
You too will be caught, Georgina. They will link you to Father and Jamie and find you guilty.
Georgina sat back and evaluated this new prisoner. He was closer in age to her father, but possessed the vitality of a man much younger. There was an intelligent glimmer in the obsidian depths of his eyes that unnerved her—a look that seemed to delve into her inner thoughts.
Mr. Blakely broke the silence. “I have a daughter. She is about your age. You remind me of her.”
Her heart twisted at the stranger’s admission. Another man. Another family. How many more good people would suffer to serve her father’s twisted agenda?
She managed a forced response. “Do I?”
“Some people have an inherent goodness. A kind heart. I recognize that in you.”
A bitter laugh climbed up her throat. It came out as more of a strangled sob. “Then you are a poor judge of character.” If she were truly good, she would have released Adam months ago and to hell with the consequences.
The man reached for her and even with his bound hand managed to give her forearm a gentle squeeze. “You are here caring for me, aren’t you? I know what it is like to do what you have to in order to survive.”
Georgina fought back tears. “You don’t know anything about me.” Because if he did, he’d not be so magnanimous.
“Trust me, miss. In my life, I’ve had experience with all sorts of characters. You do yourself a disservice. I suspect it’s because your life hasn’t been an easy one.”
His accuracy was too much. Here he was a stranger, whom she’d only just met, and he could so accurately gauge her life experience. She wanted to be free of her father. She’d had enough.
Georgina reached into the front of her apron and pulled out a knife.
The stranger stiffened. His reaction was much like Adam’s and the two other nameless men before him. They were always waiting for the final deathblow.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
He flinched.