Chapter 22 #2
“That would take longer,” he said. “And since you are so worried about that baby eating, I think you would be more willing to speed this along. We get what we want, and you get what you want.” He paused, grinning evilly. “Perhaps.”
Honora swallowed. She thought of her father. Gideon Bellamy. The house in Wiltshire, the address she knew by heart.
He had sent Cecily away, had taken the child from her, had lied to her.
But if these men sent a ransom letter, he would understand.
He would know she was alive; he would know Cecily was with her.
And he would know where to look. That mattered more than whatever anger remained between them.
And more than her father’s lack of money.
He would not need money to send help for her.
He only needed a clue as to where she was.
And she knew just what clue to give. She could lead her father to Leopold. Leopold would lead them both to Isolde. And if she was responsible for what was happening, Isolde would have no choice but to lead her father and Leopold to Honora and Cecily.
“My father,” she said at last, carefully measuring her words so that it sounded like a resigned admission rather than enlightened calculation.
The man waited.
“Gideon Bellamy.”
“Where?”
She gave him the address. He repeated it to make sure he had it right.
“And the duke?”
Honora’s heart leapt. She had expected to need to find a clever way to mention him. But the man had just handed her the opportunity.
“What duke?” she asked, pretending she did not want to give him the information.
“The one whose house you left.”
She stared at him.
“How do you know so much about me?” she asked. “About us? How do you know we even left a duke’s home?”
The man glowered at her.
“His name,” he said. “I am the one asking the questions. You would do well to answer them and be quiet otherwise.”
Honora nodded, allowing her lip to tremble as if she was afraid.
“Belgrave,” she said.
The man’s expression changed slightly. “Lord Belgrave?”
“The Duke of Belgrave,” she said.
He nodded, as if she had just confirmed something. “Good.”
He turned toward the door.
Honora’s voice stopped him. “May I please have more food for the baby?” She hated how whiny her voice sounded. But she did not know how long it would take the men to contact her father or Leopold. She only knew that Cecily could not go much longer with only bread and water.
He glanced back. “If your family pays, she will be eating well again soon enough.”
Then he left. The lock turned.
Honora stood in the middle of the room. She hated him, hated the men downstairs, hated Isolde, and hated herself most of all for the foolishness that had led her there.
But she had given them two names, two places, two trails. Her father. Leopold. One of them would understand. She had to believe that.
The rest of the morning passed slowly. Cecily slept more than usual, which worried Honora, though she suspected hunger was taking its toll.
When the door opened again after midday, one of the men carried two sheets of paper. He placed them on the table and gestured toward it, stepping back.
“We are sending these.”
Honora stared at them.
The man looked at her. “One goes to your father.” He tapped the first page. “The other goes to the duke.”
Honora looked at the second letter. Her hands curled at her sides.
“What do they say?” she asked, not wanting to move any closer to the men.
“Enough.” He held up the first page. “Your father will be told his daughter and granddaughter are being held.”
Honora’s breath caught. “And the other?”
“The Duke will be told the same.” The man gave her a cold smile. “He will also know the lady who arranged your removal has not paid what she promised.”
Honora’s eyes narrowed. “You know who she is?”
“We know she has enough money and power that her lack of payment is insulting. And everyone who insults us regrets it.”
Honora scoffed, despite the gravity of the situation.
“One can hope,” she muttered before she could stop herself.
The men looked at her, then at each other. Then, the tall man gathered the letters, and they both walked toward the door. Honora watched him.
“Why are you showing me these?”
The shorter man sneered at her.
“Wanted to make sure there was nothing you forgot to tell us.”
Honora shook her head, too tired and weak to be anything but defeated. Fortunately, that seemed to amuse the men.
“Will you send them today?”
“Maybe.”
The door shut, and the lock turned.
Honora stood in silence. Cecily began to fuss again. Honora went to her at once and lifted her. The baby curled into her chest. Honora held her tightly. She could faintly feel the child’s ribs beneath the thin fabric of her gown and closed her eyes.
Honora had spent two days believing she could do nothing. That was no longer true. She had given them information and names. And soon, those names would put people on the road.
She looked down at Cecily. “You hear that?” she asked. “Your grandfather and Leopold will help us.”
Cecily stared at her solemnly.
“Someone is coming.”
The baby reached for her face. Honora kissed her tiny fingers.
For the first time in days, she began to think there might be hope. Isolde had wanted her to disappear. The men downstairs wanted money. And money, unlike secrets, left a trail. Honora held Cecily close and stared at the locked door. Perhaps greed would save them. It was their only hope.