down the passageway.
Thrusting open the door with one outflung hand, Sebastian sprinted after her. He took two steps, three, then felt a blinding pain that crashed down upon the back of his head and brought with it the bright darkness of oblivion.
Chapter 40
The pain was still there. He realized he was lying on something cold and hard. That confused him. He considered opening his eyes to investigate, but at the moment, that seemed more effort than it was worth. He lay still, trying to recall where he was and what he was doing here. He remembered handing the reins of his horse to Hero Jarvis. He remembered walking through the abandoned garden. Stone steps. A warped door. A brown-eyed woman running.
He shifted his weight, wincing as a jagged agony arced around the side of his head. From somewhere quite close, he heard Miss Jarvis say, “You were right. It was a trap.”
He opened his eyes.
He found himself staring at a stone groined vault high above where he lay. The stones were old and worn, and stained with damp. Turning his head ever so carefully, he was able to see a row of thick, crude pillars holding up the roof and the no-nonsense face of Miss Jarvis.
He groaned again and closed his eyes. “Where the hell are we?”
“I’m not entirely certain what this place was originally. At first I thought it might be the crypt of one of the churches or chapels Somerset pulled down to build his palace. But more likely it’s simply a storeroom or cellar from one of the medieval bishops’ palaces he also tore down.”
Sebastian brought up a hand to probe gingerly at the back of his head. “And why precisely are we here?”
“I am told the vault floods when the tide comes in.”
He opened his eyes again, his hand falling. He realized he was lying on a wide, elevated stone ledge some three feet off the ground that ran along as much of the crypt wall as he could see. She sat perched on the edge of the ledge beside him. She was hunched forward, her arms crossed at her waist, her hands hugging her elbows in close. From the way she had her jaw set, he suspected she was having to try very, very hard to keep control of herself. He realized her veiled hat was gone, her sleeve torn. However she had come to be here with him, she obviously had not come without a fight.
“What happened?” he asked.
She rocked gently back and forth in a movement so subtle he doubted that she even knew she was doing it. “I waited for you for about five minutes, but you never came back. Just as I was trying to decide what to do, a gentleman walked out of the Cock and Magpie and asked if I needed help.”
“A gentleman?”
“Most definitely a gentleman. He was both well dressed and well spoken. Just like the gentleman with the gig on the road from Richmond.”
“And?” he prompted.
“I wheeled my horse, meaning to flee. But he reached up and grabbed my reins just above the bit. And then he pulled a pistol on me.”
“In a respectable neighborhood in broad daylight.”
“Quite,” she said evenly. “I freely admit to deserving any and all reproaches you care to heap upon my head. It was a trap.”
He might not like Hero Jarvis, but there was much that he found he did, reluctantly, admire about her. And so he surprised himself by saying gently, “We all make mistakes.”
She raised her head to look at him. “When they dragged me down here—”
“They?”
“Yes. Another man joined us in the garden. They had simply dumped you at the foot of the steps. I thought you were dead.”
“What steps?” he said, trying to sit up.
She turned to help him. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“What time does the tide come in? Any idea?”
“It’s been running at about half past five, I think.”
“And what time is it now?”
“You can hear the bells of St. Clements down here. They just tolled three.”
Sebastian had aborted his attempt to stand and contented himself with sitting, slumped, while he regained his breath. He said, “If I was on the floor, how did I end up on the ledge?”
“I requested they pick you up and put you on the ledge. They ridiculed me for it, but in the end they did it.”
He could imagine her high-handed orders to her captors, the men’s laughing compliance. She said, “They also left the lantern at my request. I told them I was afraid of rats.”
His gaze fell to the simple tin lantern with horn windows at their feet, its single tallow candle spilling a faint golden glow that left the farthest reaches of the chamber in darkness. “Are there rats?”
