Page 75 of The Courtship Dance

“No!” Francesca managed to gasp out.

“There, there. Don’t fret. We’ll get you back home, and the doctor will make it all better.”

“’Ere now!” The burly fruit vendor rushed up to them, gesturing at his stall. “”Oo’s goin’ to pay for all this? Quality! Tearin’ ’round and breakin’ everfin’ up.”

Perkins dug in his pocket and pulled out a few coins, tossing them to the fruit vendor, which seemed to mollify the man. Then he swung Francesca up into the carriage.

“There, now, darling, calm down,” he told her loudly as he climbed into the carriage and slammed the door shut after them.

She came up clawing, but he managed to dodge her hands and wrap his arms around her, bearing her back down on the floor. The vehicle rolled off down the street as the two of them wrestled inside. Since Perkins was stronger than she and her hands were tied, it proved to be little contest. Though Francesca fought as hard as she could, he soon had wrapped his ascot around the lower half of her face, effectively silencing her cries, and he went on to grab her ankles and hold them together, tying a length of rope around them.

“Well!” He leaned back against the edge of the seat, looking down at her. “Aren’t you the feisty one? I’d never have figured you for it.” A slow, evil grin spread across his face. “Maybe tonight will turn out more interesting that I’d thought. Never did like a woman who lay there like a stick. Mayhap you’ll give me a good ride, eh?”

He slid his hand casually down her body, and Francesca’s gorge rose in disgust.

“There’s more curves to you than I thought, too,” he went on and laughed as she glared at him. “Ah, yes, it’s much better when you can’t say anything.”

He shoved himself up and onto the seat, not bothering to help her up from the floor. Francesca managed to sit up, then crouch and lever herself up onto the seat opposite, positioning herself as far from him as she possibly could. Her feet hurt from running on the cobblestones, and the rope was so tight that she knew they would soon be numb. Her hands, too, were bound too tightly, and her hair had been caught in the gag wrapped around her head, so that it pulled painfully against her scalp. She was sore and bruised in numerous places all over her body, but she almost welcomed the pain. It kept her from falling into a daze of despair.

Where were they going? Why had he taken her? She feared that she had all too accurate an idea of what he planned to do with her whenever they eventually reached their destination. She swallowed hard, an icy cold filling her at the thought of what lay before her.

She tried to turn her thoughts to something else. She wondered if any of the servants had seen Perkins carrying her from the house. Certainly he had not been quiet when he had run down the stairs with her. He was bound to have awakened some of them. But even if one of them had come running and recognized Perkins, what could her servants do?

They would have no idea where he had taken her. And where would they go for help? Fenton might think of Rochford, but if he went to the duke, would Sinclair even care what had happened to her? Her heart squeezed inside her chest as she thought of him turning away, still cold with anger.

Maisie might go to Irene. With Callie out of town, Irene would be her closest friend and the one most able to help. Dominic, of course, would be more than willing to help, but he lived at Redfields, a good day’s ride away. If Fenton decided to go to him, the trail would be terribly cold by the time Dominic got to London. And she—well, she had no doubt that Perkins would have taken his revenge on her by that time.

Her best hope was that they would go to Irene. She would help, and her husband was the sort of man who would have a good idea what to do. She would put her hopes on that—that one of the servants had come out in time to see Perkins carry her out the door, and that Fenton or Maisie would have the good sense to run to Irene immediately with their story.

If they did not…but no, she refused to think of that. She would plan instead what she could do to escape, how she might loosen her bonds or surprise Perkins.

She turned away from him as best she could, curling in on herself. She suspected that he would think her posture sprang from fear of him, and she hated to give him that satisfaction, but it was more important that she hide her hands from his sight. Surreptitiously, she began to work at her bonds, stretching the sash as much as she could. The cloth dug painfully into her skin, but she would not let that stop her. It was a much softer material than the rope he had used on her ankles, and while that meant that he had been able to tie it more tightly and securely, it also meant that it would stretch more easily.

Unfortunately, in an attempt to keep what she was doing hidden from her companion, she had to make her movements small. No matter how she pulled and twisted, she could loosen the ties only a fraction, nowhere near enough to enable her to slip her hands through. Moreover, all the tugging had managed to tighten the knot into a hard, tiny ball, almost impossible to undo. She needed something sharp that would cut the bonds, but nothing like that was in evidence.

As she worked on the sash that tied her hands, she also moved her feet as much as she could without being obvious. But the ropes were even more unyielding than the cloth sash. She was, she thought with despair, utterly unable to get out of her bonds.

After a time, she could feel the carriage slowing down, and she shifted, trying to see out the window. However, the curtains covered it completely, and she could see nothing. She glanced across at Perkins, and his mouth pulled into a familiar grin, the one that made her shiver inside.

“Yes. We are here already. Surely you did not think I would take my time to get what I want. I’m not a man who likes waiting.”

Francesca stiffened her spine, sending him her fiercest look. He merely laughed.

“Oh, aye, glare at me all you wish. It’ll be different in a little while. You’ll be begging me then.” He leaned forward. “And that bastard Rochford will have to live with the fact that I got there before him. He won’t like that, will he, the mighty duke? Finding out that his precious little lady is just a doxy, like any other. Knowing I’ve plowed that furrow long before he had a chance to.”

Francesca would have dearly loved to spit back an answer at him, but of course, the gag prevented it. She waited, her body tensing. The moment when he pulled her out of the carriage would be her best chance to create a fuss, although, bound and gagged as she was, she was not sure what she could manage to do. But surely, if they had stopped at an inn, there would be people around, and the sight of him hauling out a bound-and-gagged woman would appear extremely odd. Someone might come forward and question them.

But then again, it was still night, no later than dawn. Even at an inn, there might be no one about. Far worse, they could have driven to some cottage on the outskirts of town, where there would be no one to see or wonder.

Perkins leaned across the carriage, and she squeezed back into the corner, determined to make a fight of it. But to her surprise, he did not take her arm and pull her out. Instead, he seized the dangling end of the sash he had wound around her wrists, looping it through a small bar beside the door and tying it there.

Then he took her chin between his forefinger and thumb and pinched it, giving her a wink, and left the carriage. Francesca stared after him, filled with impotent rage. She jerked hard at the tie, but it was firmly secured. Next she tried to undo it with her fingers, which had room to move a little, but the knot he had made was hard and fast, and her hands had grown so numb that her fingers were clumsy. She made little headway.

She kicked the side of the carriage in frustration. Encouraged by the sound it made, she continued kicking with both feet, making as much noise as possible. No one came to check on her.

It seemed forever that she was out there by herself, alternately kicking and working at the knots. She was beginning to wonder if Perkins intended to leave her alone for the rest of the night.

Finally, however, he opened the door and climbed back in. “You’re a noisy one, aren’t you? I thought you would have grown tired by now.”