Chapter 2
His head hurt. That was the first thing Sebastian noticed as he woke.
The second, and more disturbing, was his surroundings, not the cozy room at the inn where he’d gone to sleep last night, but a dark, musty dungeon.
He was in a cell. Torchlight passed through the small barred window on the wooden door, revealing a hard-packed dirt floor, a clean chamber pot in the corner, and bugs crawling in and out of cracks in the stone walls.
It was an airless, medieval room but it was in better condition than his own dungeon, which indicated it was frequently used.
He’d been in prisons before, but modern ones, never an actual, authentic dungeon.
He’d seen the old fortress on the hill overlooking Felburg, so he knew exactly where he was.
“Bloody hell.”
He’d mumbled, but in the absolute silence of the place, it had sounded more like a shout, and he got an immediate response. “Is that you, sir?” John called out, from which direction Sebastian couldn’t guess.
Sebastian moved to the door, but before he could answer, Timothy’s frightened voice came from his far left. “Raven, I don’t like it here. Really I don’t. Can we leave now?”
The boy, too? That was going too far. He knew why he was there. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to force him to work for him. The last time he’d been inside a cell had been for the same reason. Bastards thought alike.
“Did they hurt you, Timothy?”
“No, not much,” the lad answered, trying to sound brave now. “They stuffed something in my mouth and tied me up to carry me here. I’ve been awake all night.”
“What about you, John?” Sebastian asked.
“A small lump on my head, sir,” John said, his voice coming from the right. “It’s nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing. Injury to himself he could stomach, but when his people were hurt in order to get to him . . .
Sebastian didn’t get angry often, but this was one of those times. He stood back, lifted his foot, and kicked at the door in front of him. It didn’t budge, not even a little, though he’d certainly knocked the dust off of it. It probably wasn’t as old as the stone it was attached to.
He inspected the room more closely. There was a stand with a tin water pitcher and bowl, a towel folded on its single shelf.
The water was fresh. The bedding was clean on the narrow cot, fine linen, actually.
The plate of food that had been slid under the door had probably been appetizing before the bugs found it: eggs, sausage, bread with butter, melted now, and several pastries.
Apparently the intent wasn’t to deprive him, merely to keep him from leaving. A forced guest, as it were. But for how long? Until he agreed to find the missing duchess? As if he wouldn’t disappear the moment he was out of this dungeon, no matter an agreement or not?
The fellow who brought their next meals was mute or pretended to be.
He wouldn’t say a word or answer a single question.
The day wore on, long and boring. Sebastian spent his time exercising and imagining his hands around Leopold Baum’s neck.
John and Timothy played word games. On opposite sides of the dungeon, they were soon hoarse.
The evening meal arrived and still there was no communication from their host. Dumplings and fried veal cutlets with a creamy cheese sauce was the tempting fare, very filling, very typical of Austrian cuisine.
There was some type of cake and a bottle of fine wine.
He left the dessert for the bugs and took the wine to bed with him.
The next day was the same, and the next. So he was to have a taste first of what it would be like if he didn’t agree to the duke’s terms? Did the man really think he could be coerced into working for him?
Leopold Baum arrived early on the fifth morning of their confinement.
He didn’t take chances. Four big, strapping guards preceded him, entering the cell with their pistols drawn.
One of them tied Sebastian’s hands behind his back while the other three kept their guns pointed at him.
It was a tight fit in the small cell with the guards filling the corners.
The duke offered few surprises other than his age.
Sebastian, who had expected a younger man, could see that the duke was close to the half-century mark.
Dark blond hair trimmed short in the fashion of the day.
Sebastian wore his hair long and usually clubbed back, only because John made a lousy barber, and they traveled too much to visit a good one with any frequency. The duke had a superb barber.
Sharp blue eyes, keenly intelligent, or so they appeared.
Tall, though not quite six feet. His frame was stocky, leaning toward fat.
His jowls were starting to sag, though it wasn’t that noticeable under the full, short blond beard.
He still held himself regally, a man of extreme consequence and privilege.
Sebastian guessed that he had either just been riding, or he still had it on the morning agenda, as he wore a jade green coat and buff-colored riding breeches, and held a crop in hand, which he tapped against his well-polished black knee-high boots.
His expression was actually congenial, as if Sebastian wasn’t sitting in a cell with four pistols pointed at him but was instead a real guest. “Are your accommodations satisfactory?”
Sebastian didn’t bat an eye. “The floor could stand a few boards, but otherwise, I’ve enjoyed the vacation.”
Leopold smiled. “Excellent. It’s too bad we couldn’t come to terms sooner, but I assume you are ready to get back to work now?”
“You shouldn’t assume.”
Leopold’s smile didn’t falter. He was obviously certain he held the upper hand. Sebastian couldn’t quite figure out how. Keeping him imprisoned wasn’t going to get the job done. Letting him go wasn’t going to get it done either.
He pointed out, “Detaining me here because I refuse to work for you is illegal.”
“But that’s not why you are here,” Leopold said jovially. “I can think of any number of crimes you have committed. Execution is possible, though I suspect even that won’t sway you. But come now, let’s not be melodramatic. You’ve been my guest—”
“Prisoner,” Sebastian cut in. “Guest,” Leopold insisted. “If you were a prisoner, these accommodations wouldn’t be nearly so pleasant, I do assure you. But perhaps I’ve visited too soon. Shall I return next week, to find out if you tire of this ‘vacation’?”
Sebastian finally raised a brow. “And then the week after that, and the one after that? This doesn’t get your wife found, does it?”
Leopold seemed surprised. “You would be so stubborn? Why?”
“As I told your man, I can’t take this job because of where it leads. I swore an oath I’d never return to England. I’m not going to break that oath for monetary gain.”
“Why did you make that oath?”
“That, sir, is none of your business.”
“I see,” Leopold said thoughtfully. “Then I suppose I must appeal to your sympathy.”
“Don’t bother,” Sebastian replied. “A man in my occupation can have none.”
Leopold laughed. “Of course not—on the surface. But hear me out, then we shall see.”
The duke began to pace as he gathered his thoughts. With such limited space, and four burly guards filling up most of it, he soon gave up and stood still again. Sebastian wondered if what he was going to hear would be the truth, or a fabrication to stir his so-called sympathies.
“I married my wife in good faith. It was an unhappy match, though, as we both soon found out. She could have had a divorce. She need only have asked for it. Instead she chose to run off, pretending to have been kidnapped so she would have the means to live comfortably.”
“I know all this—”
“You know nothing!” Leopold interrupted, a bit more sharply than he probably intended.
In that brief moment, the real man was revealed, a hottempered autocrat. A man who assumed he had unlimited power, true or not, was very dangerous. Sebastian might have to rethink his situation.
“Why didn’t you appeal to the English government to assist you in finding her? They have branches that are quite good at that sort of thing. That would still be your best course of action.”
“I am an Austrian duke,” Leopold said, a degree of annoyance mixed into his condescending tone. “I cannot put myself in a position where I would owe favors to another government. I’ve sent men, a countless number. That should have been sufficient.”
Sebastian held back a snort. “When did you send the last one?”
Leopold frowned, his eyes moving about as if he were searching for an answer, and in fact he was. He really couldn’t remember.
“Last year—no, the year before that,” he finally said.
Sebastian shook his head, couldn’t keep the disgust out of his eyes. “What am I doing here? It’s obvious you don’t really want her back.”
Leopold stiffened, said in his own defense, “I had given up! I was going to have her declared dead. But my darling Maria won’t marry me without proof of death or divorce. She’s fearful of giving me heirs that could be declared bastards if my first wife should ever return.”
Smart girl, Sebastian thought to himself, then abruptly amended, not smart at all if she was willing to marry this fellow. Of course, the duke might be a completely different man when dealing with his “love.”
Leopold continued, “If I had known there were men like you, I would have seen this matter resolved long ago. Your arrival in my town has given me new hope. It is said you have never failed to complete a job successfully. A sterling record like that demands a challenge like this, don’t you agree?
Or have you based your career on simple jobs that any fool could accomplish? ”
“Save your breath,” Sebastian said. “I am impervious to insults. My answer stands, for the reasons given. Whether I would like to help you or not is moot. Your wife’s location is the deciding factor.”