"You will rot in hell for this."

"Undoubtedly. But I shall have a grand time here on earth beforehand." Cecil scratched his chin. "I don't really trust them to do a good job with your wife. I'm amazed they managed to get you here without mishap."

"I wouldn't call this lump on my head 'without mishap.' "

"I have it! You shall write her a note. Lure her out of the safety of her home. I understand the two of you have been quite amorous of late. Make her think you have arranged a lovers' tryst. She'll come running. Women always do."

Charles started thinking quickly. Cecil didn't realize that he and Ellie had already guessed that someone was out to do them harm. Ellie would never believe that Charles would plan a tryst amidst such danger. She would immediately suspect foul play. Charles was sure of it.

But he didn't want to raise Cecil's suspicions by appearing too eager to write the note, so he twisted his face away and spat out, "I won't do anything to lure Ellie to her death."

Cecil strode forward and yanked Charles to his feet. "She's going to die in any case, so she might as well do it with you."

"You'll have to untie my hands," Charles said, keeping his voice sullen.

"I'm not as stupid as you think."

"And I'm not as dexterous as you think," Charles shot back. "Do you want my handwriting to look like chicken scrawl? Ellie isn't stupid. She'll be suspicious if she receives a note that doesn't look to be in my hand."

"Very well. But don't try anything heroic." Cecil pulled out a knife and a pistol. He used the knife to cut through the rope around Charles's wrists and kept the pistol pointed at his head.

"Have you any paper?" Charles asked sarcastically. "A quill? Ink, perhaps?"

"Shut up." Cecil paced across the room, keeping the pistol pointed at Charles, who couldn't have gone far in any case with his feet tied together. "Damn."

Charles started to laugh.

"Shut up!" Cecil screamed. He turned to the doorway and yelled, "Baxter!"

A burly man opened the door. "Wot?"

"Get me some paper. And ink."

"And a quill," Charles said helpfully.

"I don't think there's any of that 'ere," Baxter said.

"Then go buy some!" Cecil screamed, his entire body shaking.

Baxter crossed his arms. "You 'aven't paid me for nabbing the earl yet."

"For the love of God," Cecil hissed. "I'm working with idiots."

Charles watched with interest as Baxter's expression grew dark. Perhaps he could turn him against Cecil.

Cecil threw a coin at Baxter. The large man stooped to pick the coin up, but not before glaring viciously in Cecil's direction. He started to leave, then turned back around when Cecil barked, "Wait!"

"Wot now?" Baxter demanded.

Cecil jerked his head toward Charles. "Tie him back up."

"Why'd you untie 'im in the first place?"

"That's none of your concern."

Charles sighed and held his wrists out toward Baxter. Much as he'd like to fight for his freedom, now wasn't the time. He could never win against both Baxter and Cecil, who was still armed with a knife and gun. Not to mention the fact that his ankles were tied together and one of them was sprained.

Charles sighed as Baxter looped new rope around his wrists. All that work wearing down the other rope for nothing. Still, Baxter tied a looser knot than the previous one, which at least allowed him some measure of circulation.

Baxter left the room, and Cecil followed him to the doorway, waving the gun once in Charles's direction with a harsh, "Don't you move."

"As if I could," Charles muttered, trying to bend his toes inside his boots to get the blood moving in his feet. He listened while Cecil spoke to Baxter's friend, whom he had not yet seen, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. After a minute or two Cecil returned and sat down in a ramshackle chair.

"Now what?" Charles demanded.

"Now we wait."

After a few moments, however, Cecil started to fidget. Charles took some satisfaction in his discomfort. "Bored?" he drawled.

"Impatient."

"Ah, I see. You want me dead and done with it."

"Exactly." Cecil started tapping his hand against his thigh, making clucking sounds with his mouth as he did so.

"You are going to drive me bloody insane," Charles said.

"That is not high on my list of worries."

Charles closed his eyes. Clearly he had already died and gone to hell. What could possibly be worse than being trapped for hours with a tapping, clucking Cecil, who, incidentally, planned to kill him and his wife?

He opened his eyes. Cecil was holding a deck of cards.

"Want to play?" Cecil asked.

"No," Charles said. "You've always been a cheat."

Cecil shrugged. "Won't matter. I can't collect from a dead man. Oh, I beg your pardon, I can. In fact, I'll be collecting everything you own."

Charles closed his eyes again. He had been courting the devil when he wondered what could be worse than being trapped with Cecil.

For now he knew. He was going to have to play cards with the cur.

There was no justice in the world. None at all.

* * *

Ellie's hands shook as she unfolded the note the butler had just given to her. Her eyes scanned the lines, and she caught her breath.

My dear Eleanor,

I have spent all day preparing a romantic outing for us alone. Meet me at the swing in one hour.

Your devoted husband, Charles

Ellie looked up at Helen, who had been keeping a vigil with her for the past hour. "It's a trap," she whispered, handing her the note.