Shameless - By Annie Stuart Page 0,103

and shadowed, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She started for the doors leading down to the tunnels and then stopped.

The door was barred and locked, an ancient padlock the size of a platter holding an equally heavy chain in place. There was no way she was getting past that.

Which meant she had no choice but to see whether she could climb back in using the cave-in, this time without landing on her ankle. Of course, the first time she’d had a full-grown male end up under her, which hadn’t improved matters. And she wasn’t going to think about Benedick Rohan being underneath her anymore. That didn’t help matters, either.

She had just reached the door when she heard a noise overhead. A scuffling sound, louder than even the largest rats could make, and she froze, her hair standing on end. If it were any of the Heavenly Host, they would hardly be hiding, she thought, forcing herself to calm down.

There were stairs at the back of the room, and before she could cry off she started up them, as quietly as she could so as not to alert anyone who might be up there. The hallway was dark and deserted, with a doorway on either side, both doors closed and locked. Light was coming through the door on the left, as if there was a window, and she tiptoed toward it, flinching every time a floorboard creaked.

The door had a barred window in it, with no glass, and she stood on her tiptoes, her ankle screaming in protest. At first she could see nothing inside, just a cot, a table and chair, and a bundle of rags. But slowly that bundle of rags began to look familiar, the blue serge that all of her gaggle wore.

“Betsey?” she whispered urgently. “Is that you?”

The bundle stirred, very slowly, and then resolved itself into the familiar figure of a young girl. “Miss?” she said anxiously, her young voice raspy.

“It’s me, Betsey. Are you all right?”

Betsey scrambled to her feet, running over to the door. “Oh, miss, you shouldn’t be here. They’ve locked me in and there’s no way out, and they’re very bad men. You should leave.”

Melisande rattled the door in frustration. “What about the windows? If I were able to find you a rope could you climb down?”

She shook her head. She was filthy—straw in her hair, dirt and what looked like a bruise across her young face. “There are bars on the windows.”

Melisande cursed, and Betsey looked impressed. She looked around her, but the hallway was empty of everything, and she hadn’t even thought to bring the small lady’s pistol she carried with her when she traveled in the more dangerous areas of London. What an idiot she’d been! “I’m going to need to find something to break the lock, Betsey. Just be patient—I’m not walking too well. I hate to leave you locked in here even for another moment, but I’ll try to hurry.”

“I’ll be fine, miss. I’ve been here one night already, and they bring me food and leave me alone. Do you have any idea of why they want me? I ain’t pretty like the others, and I’m too old for those that likes the little ones.”

Melisande didn’t bother to ask her how she knew of such foul practices. After all, the child had lived on the streets for years, just barely managing to maintain her innocence. There would be few things she hadn’t seen or heard.

But she wouldn’t have heard of girls being murdered in a ritual sacrifice, and Melisande wasn’t about to enlighten her. “I don’t know,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll be back as soon as I can with help, and we’ll get you away from here, safely back home.”

An odd expression crossed Betsey’s face. “I don’t think so, miss,” she said in a hollow voice.

“You don’t? But why not?” she demanded, puzzled.

The sudden darkness that descended answered all her questions.

31

The house on Bury Street existed in what could best be called an armed truce. While Benedick would have liked nothing better than to kick his wretched brother-in-law to the street, that would involve losing his sister as well, and he wasn’t in any particular mood to pass judgment on anyone, or to drive another female from his life.

For the time being there wasn’t anything particular that he could do. His brother-in-law had connections in the London underworld, and right now their criminal minions were out and about, scouring

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