Chapter Twenty-nine
Theo opened her eyes, once she was sure she was alone. She was shuddering from head to toe, her skin where he'd touched her crawling as if it were alive with slugs leaving their sticky trail. The sense of violation was so powerful, she wanted to retch. She'd been too shocked and too disoriented to resist, and by the time she'd recovered from her shock, it had stopped. But he wouldn't do it again.
She got up and rinsed out her mouth, then dipped her finger into the water and scrubbed at her flesh where his fingers had been. Her head still ached, but it was an almost irrelevant discomfort now. She had to get out of there.
Had Edward seen what had happened? He'd not have been able to do anything single-handed, but perhaps he'd gone for help. But whether he had or not, she must still help herself.
When Gerard returned, he would find her wide awake and composed, and if he attempted to touch her again, he'd get more than he bargained for.
Presumably, he had the key to the chain somewhere on his person.
Then she knew what she had to do. He wouldn't find her wide awake and composed. He would find her just as he'd left her. With her skirt hiked up, her body defenseless and inviting. And when he approached and bent over her, she'd be ready for him.
Sylvester rode up Ludgate Hill, looking for Hall Court. He saw Edward's curricle first, drawn to the side of the thoroughfare and in the hands of an urchin who stood holding the reins, idly picking his teeth.
Edward was standing in the shadows at the entrance to Hall Court, his eyes fixed to the door through which Theo had been carried.
"Thank God Jonathan found you," he breathed as Sylvester dismounted beside him. "I believe she's still in there. Gerard's phaeton is still there, at least."
"Gerard? What's Theo doing with that sewer rat?"
Edward, looking wretched, said, "She thought he might have the truth about Vimiera."
Sylvester whitened. "You?"
Edward nodded in acute discomfort "I hadn't intended to, sir. It was gossip I heard in the Peninsula, and of course I didn't believe it, but somehow Theo…" He shrugged. "After Lady Belmont's reception she guessed something and, well, she wormed the story out of me. She didn't believe it anymore than I did."
So the secret he'd been so desperately trying to keep had been no secret at all. Fairfax had known all along and never given him the slightest indication. And Theo had known for days, and it hadn't mattered one iota to her. She simply hadn't believed it. He should have known, of course. He just hadn't trusted enough.
A joy of such piercing intensity almost took his breath away; then he said briskly, "So tell me how she got herself into this mess."
He listened to Edward's tale in growing incredulity and then wondered why he was incredulous. It had Theo's mark all over it. She'd asked the right people the right questions and drawn her own correct conclusions, then simply plunged headlong into a situation that he already had well under control.
"What am I going to do?" he demanded, almost a cry of despair, when Edward fell silent. "Just what the devil am I going to do?"
Edward stared at him, clearly wondering if he was in the grip of temporary insanity. "Why, we must go in and rescue her."
"Yes… yes," Sylvester said impatiently. "That's the least of my problems. I mean, what in God's good grace am I to do about Theo?"
"Oh." Edward nodded his comprehension. "Well, people who know Theo well, sir, tend to do what she thinks best. Rather in the manner of Mohammed and the mountain, if you follow me."
"Oh, I follow you, Edward," he said. "And just look what letting her do what she thinks best leads to."
Edward shook his head and said tentatively, "As to that, sir, I think you're mistaken, if you'll forgive my saying so. Theo wanted to prove to you that she's capable of helping you and that she deserves your confidence. If you had taken her into your confidence, she wouldn't have gone off on her own like this. She would have expected you to involve her, and she would have followed your lead."
Sylvester glared into the shadows of the court, wrestling with what he recognized as the truth. If he'd trusted in her responses from the beginning, they would all have been spared a mountain of grief and trouble. It was time to throw in the towel. If he didn't involve Theo, she would involve herself; she would find out whatever she wanted to discover, and it seemed as if he couldn't do a damn thing about it. God knows, he'd given it his best shot.
She wanted a damn partnership, and it looked as if he'd acquired a partner whether he wanted one or not.
A tiny smile touched his eyes. Of all the possible repositories of his confidences, he couldn't think of any more honest and reliable than his forthright gypsy. And at least, if he was directing operations, she wouldn't shoot off on lethal tangents with only half the facts.
"How shall we get in, sir?" Edward's urgent voice brought him back to the reality of Ludgate Hill, where behind them ordinary life continued in the busy thoroughfare, and in front of them lay the dank court and a world of shadows.
"Knock on the door, of course," Sylvester said calmly. "Do you prefer a sword stick or a pistol?"
"Sword stick," Edward said promptly. "I find I can fence one-handed with little difficulty, and I won't have to worry about reloading."
"Right." Sylvester handed him the stick and drew the two dueling pistols from his belt. "I've a knife and pocket pistol as well, so I think we're armed to the teeth, my friend."
His tone was light, but it didn't conceal the murderous fury in his eyes. He didn't believe Gerard intended serious harm to Theo; it would benefit him nothing. But he had hurt her already, if Edward was right, and he was going to pay in blood.
"I'll knock first. You keep behind me so they don't see you," he said in a low voice as they approached the door. "When I step forward, jump in behind me."
Upstairs, in the room with the skylight, Theo was lying very still on the cot, breathing evenly and deeply, waiting for the moment when Gerard would come back. The door had opened once in the five or ten minutes since he'd been gone, and she'd felt someone's eyes on her, but whoever it was hadn't come close. How long would it take Gerard to finish with the girl in the front room? Not long, she thought. The exchange with the other man had given the impression that he was after a swift, unceremonious satisfaction of an immediate need.
Her muscles surged with energy now; her mind, despite the continued pounding of her head, was crystal clear; and it was very hard to feign unconsciousness. She went over the moves in her head. Which ones she used would depend on Gerard's position when he came close enough.
Then the door opened. She felt her eyelids flutter and forced herself into total immobility, although her muscles ached with the effort.
Gerard approached the bed. She was lying exactly as he'd left her, the hem of her skirt pushed up above her knee, high enough to show the frilled leg of her drawers. Five minutes with the scrawny maidservant had slaked his immediate hunger, but excitement still stirred at the image of the Countess of Stoneridge, chained to the bed, available.
What kind of woman was it who went for a drive to Hampton Court bearing a pistol? The same woman, of course, who ventured alone into the twilight world of London's dockland. Had she suspected him in some way?
Not that it mattered now. He had her exactly as he wanted her, and he was going to keep her here for two days, after which her reputation would be ruined if he chose to make it so. If Stoneridge chose to make it so, he corrected himself with a satisfied smile. If the lady's husband refused to toe the line – an unthinkable possibility.