Emm and the two girls watched until he’d disappeared. “I don’t care, I’m going after them,” George began.
“No, you need to stay here,” Emm told her. “You heard Cal—how do you think he’d feel if any more of his beloved girls went missing? It flays him badly enough to have lost Lily.”
George put up a stubborn chin. “Yes, but I’m not one of his ‘beloved girls.’ I’m just a duty to him. I’m not even a sister.”
Emm slid an arm around the girl’s slender waist and said gently, “You’re not his sister, but you’re not just a duty, either. Cal cares deeply about you—and not just because he feels ashamed at the family’s neglect of you in the past. If you didn’t enjoy clashing with him so much, you’d see what he really thinks of you.”
George sighed. “That I’m a pest, a wild girl and trouble.”
Emm laughed. “You can be at times, but even though he growls and snaps sometimes, never, ever doubt that Cal loves you. It’s because he loves you that he growls.”
George looked skeptical, and Emm said, “He also admires you, George—he’s quite proud of his wild young niece, you know. He cares for you, and he loves you.” She slid her other arm around Rose and added, “Both of you. All of you.”
“Yes, but Lily is his favorite,” Rose said.
“I don’t care about that,” George said. “I just need to do something.”
“I know.” Emm squeezed her affectionately. “But there’s no point in us running around like chickens with their heads cut off searching for Lily when we have no idea where she’s been taken. There is something we can do to help, though. It may not be dramatic or exciting, but we will have to be clever.”
Rose narrowed her eyes. “How do you mean, clever?”
Chapter Three
Long is the way and hard, that out of hell leads to up to light.
—JOHN MILTON, PARADISE LOST
“Stop the coach!”
In the darkness of her cramped prison, Lily stirred, willing the drugged haze to pass. She focused her dazed attention on the voices outside.
“What the—who the devil are you and what business do you have stopping my coach?”
“No need for alarm, sir. We’re on official business.”
“Indeed? What’s the problem?”
“A young lady has been abducted. They’re believed to be making for the border.”
Rescue! They were looking for her. Lily tried to call out but all she could manage was a muffled moan. Nixon covered it with a coughing fit. He said in a loud voice, “A lady abducted, you say! How shocking! Whatever is the world coming to!”
Lily tried to bang on the walls of her prison, but the thick blanket they’d rolled her in impeded her movements and muffled any sound. The space under the seat was a tight fit. She couldn’t even raise her arms enough to reach the gag.
She tried to call for help again, but with her throat so dry, her mouth so tightly gagged and her drugged, thick tongue barely able to move, all that came out was a whimper.
And from the sound of the conversation outside, the men didn’t hear a thing.
“So you haven’t come across a young lady in distress in your travels, sir?”
“No, and as you can see, gentlemen, there’s only myself in this carriage,” Nixon said. “No young women at all, sadly. I could do with one to while away this dreary journey to Carlisle.”
One of the men laughed.
Lily tried again, calling out and banging her head against the roof of her prison but again, there was no reaction from the men outside.
“So you’re not destined for Scotland, sir?”
“Heavens, no! Carlisle is quite far-flung enough for me. Best of luck in finding your young lady, gentlemen. The villain who abducted her deserves to be horsewhipped.”
Hearing the men take their leave, Lily tried to call out one last desperate time, but a moment later the carriage lurched on its way, and she was once again left alone with her abductor.
Sick with fear and feeling desperately alone, she sank back. She was never going to get away from him. He was too clever, too plausible. He’d planned it all so carefully. Who would have thought of making a hollow space under the seat and keeping her captive there? And invisible.
Those men . . . if only she could have made them hear . . .
A few moments later the lid of the seat was raised and the smothering, dusty rug pulled off her face. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to a soft gray light. Morning? Already? She’d been here all night.
“Awake, are we?” Nixon’s sneering face loomed over her. “I heard your feeble little squeaks. Lucky for me there’s a filthy wind blowing down from the north and it drowned everything.”
Hard fingers pulled at the knot of her gag, ripping at her hair uncaringly. He dragged the damp strip of fabric aside. Lily moved her aching jaw experimentally.
“I should have dosed you earlier,” he said, and grabbed her hair, forcing her head back.
She glimpsed a blue bottle in his hand, and as he jammed it into her mouth, she retained just enough presence of mind to push her tongue into the bottle’s opening. She pretended to swallow and struggle and cough, and only a trickle of the vile drug passed her lips.
“That’ll do it.” He released the painful grip on her hair, corked the bottle, retied the gag and pushed her down, back into the dark, airless space under the seat. “I’ll wake you when we get to Gretna, darling. Sleep well.”
He was laughing at her, laughing at her helplessness, her foolishness in falling for his trap in the first place.
How she hated him.
That note from Rose. She’d believed every word of it. But now she’d had time to think. Rose would never have written to her. Lily hadn’t thought at all, just reacted. This mess she was in was all her own fault. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
She lay in the lightless gloom, berating herself,
