They hadn’t even spoken to her, though she’d asked for their names and what they wanted. Their silence scared her more than anything else, but it also gave her hope. If they had planned to kill her, would they have taken the trouble to cover her eyes so she could neither see them nor their destination? Would they have been cautious about speaking in front of her? Perhaps this was all a misunderstanding or a mistake and they’d bring her home in the morning—
The lock on the door rattled, and Lorrie squeezed herself back against the wall tightly. Welly went stiff in her arms and growled low in his throat, his brown and white fur bristling. The door scraped open, and a man blocked the exit. His hat rode low on his forehead and the collar of his coat concealed the lower part of his face.
Lorrie looked down, not wanting to meet his gaze, the fear clawing inside her like a rabid animal bent on escape. The man crouched, set a cloth on the ground, then backed up and closed the door again. The lock sliding back into place made a rusty scratching sound. Welly let out a small yip, then scrambled off her lap to nose the cloth. Lorrie grabbed it and unwrapped the contents—a slice of bread and an apple.
Her stomach rumbled with hunger she hadn’t felt until now. Before she could devour all the food herself, she broke off a piece of bread and fed it to Welly, who gobbled it and then looked at her hopefully. Lorrie sighed and gave him the rest of the bread, contenting herself with the apple.
She brushed away the unshed tears that had stung her eyes since the ordeal had begun. Crying would accomplish nothing. Ewan would come for her, but what if he was too late? She had to try to escape and run for help. If this was an old work shed, surely the house it had been part of still existed. There would be a path leading to it or tenants’ cottages. She just had to find it.
She reached for the door latch and lifted it. The sliding lock on the outside was probably a new feature her abductors had installed. She wanted to test it further, but if she rattled the door, her abductors would come to check on her. The little closet had no windows, and she was not quite tall enough to reach the roof, but it looked secure.
She sat again, leaned back against the wall. The wood creaked. Perhaps she could find a weak plank in the wall. If she wedged it open far enough, Welly could escape. Perhaps the little dog might fetch help.
Well, that was unlikely, but if she managed to make the hole big enough, perhaps she might be able to squeeze out.
Lorrie knelt and began to push quietly on the walls surrounding her.
*
His cousin held court in a small coffee shop in Fleet Street. It wasn’t the most fashionable part of town, but if it had been the haunt of those with titles and wealth then the nephew of an earl wouldn’t have held sway.
Francis sat at a table in the middle of the room, three or four of the young men Ewan had seen with him at various functions throughout the Season seated beside him. The men talked loudly, laughed loudly, and in so doing commanded the attention of every other patron.
Ewan had tried Francis’s modest flat just around the corner, but after he’d knocked loud enough to bring out the neighbors, he’d been told Mr. Mostyn was at the coffee shop.
Ewan had not been pleased to hear it. He’d known Lorraine wouldn’t elope with Francis, but he’d still hoped that was the explanation for her disappearance. It was a far worse situation than he faced now—Francis entertaining a group of people and Lady Lorraine nowhere to be found.
Just where the hell was she?
His cousin hadn’t seen him come in. Ewan knew how to be unobtrusive when the situation called for it. He’d slid in behind a group of men entering and moved to the side where he could stand in the shadows. There were not many shadows remaining. It was midday now, and the sun was bright in the sky. The two men seated at the table beside Ewan had taken one look at him and elected to find another coffee shop. He pulled a chair back and sat, keeping his head down and his shoulders hunched.
If he’d learned anything from Neil, it was to observe before acting. So now he would observe. He didn’t see Lorrie, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t make an appearance in another moment or so. In the meantime, he listened to Francis brag about his social calendar.
When he mentioned the daughter of the Duke of Ridlington, Ewan’s eyes fastened on him.
“And when I marry Lady Lorraine,” Francis was saying, “I’ll have enough blunt to buy this shop and a dozen more. We’ll travel the world together, won’t we, Tommy?” He slung an arm around the man seated beside him.
Tommy smiled affably enough, but the other man at the table snorted. “You might have held the affections of the duke’s daughter at one time, but I hear she returned your letters and won’t dance with you at any of the balls.”
Francis shrugged. “Oh, I have a feeling she will come around. I just need to play the part of Lancelot and save her from danger.” He winked at a pretty girl who set glasses on a nearby table, then checked his pocket watch. “Not long now until I rescue the damsel in distress.”
Ewan rose slowly, not taking any care not to be seen. He supposed he wasn’t as stupid as everyone had claimed him to be because all the pieces in Lorraine’s disappearance came together now.
Francis looked his way, just as Ewan stepped into the light.
“What the devil are you doing here?” he asked, a note of fear in his voice. Ewan could recognize the sound of fear—panic and dread too. He’d heard them often enough.
He crossed to Francis, batted the man called Tommy out of the way, and lifted his cousin up by the throat, then threw him across the room. Francis smashed into a table, toppling it and spraying coffee and tea all over the walls, the floor, and the patrons. A wide circle opened around Ewan as people attempted to stay out of his way. Notably, no one came to Francis’s aid either.
Ewan advanced on him, and Francis scrambled back. His cheek bled from a small scrape and his always perfectly styled hair was wet with coffee and cream. “What is wrong with you?” he shouted at his cousin. “Are you mad as well as stupid?”
“I’m neither,” Ewan said so low he wondered if even Francis could hear him. He stooped, lifted Francis, and pressed him against the wall. He lifted his cousin just high enough so that his toes rested on the floor. “I should kill you,” he said, his voice a rumble. “You had her abducted. You paid to have her taken so you could ride in and save her.”
“What the devil are you blathering about? Put me down!”
But Ewan had seen the fear in Francis’s eyes—the fear and the guilt. Ewan hadn’t made a mistake.
Ewan shoved him back against the wall. Francis’s skull made a satisfying thunk against the wood. As much as he’d like to hurt his cousin right now, that would have to wait. Lorraine needed him. “Where is she?”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ewan slammed Francis back against the wall, the man’s head thunking on the wood once again. “Where is she?”
“I told you—”
Ewan raised a brow. “If you like your head with its skull intact, I suggest you answer me now.”
“I didn’t hurt her,” Francis said now, his voice whiny and much like it had been when they were boys and Ewan had fought back after Francis’s bullying had gone too far. “They won’t hurt her.”