The Rake's Bargain. Lucy Ashford

sorry, Mr Beaumaris.’ It was the younger one who spoke this time—he must have come to join his friend. ‘But you have to stay our prisoner, see? For just a little longer, that’s all.’

      Beau could almost hear the lad shaking in fright. The girl was made of sterner stuff than the rest of them put together. He gritted his teeth. ‘I don’t recall your...Miss Deb telling you to let me starve. And there’s something else. I’ve been shut up in here all night, and I need to relieve myself.’

      ‘Now, let’s see,’ the older one was muttering. ‘We have to keep his blindfold on, but we’ll need to untie the ropes at his feet. Though it’s best perhaps if we keep the long rope tied to one of his ankles, so he can’t run... This way, Mr Beaumaris, sir!’

      And Beau found himself being led a few yards away, still blindfolded and with his wrists tied behind his back, while the rope that connected him to the doorpost uncoiled behind him. He told himself, calmly, Someone is going to pay dearly for this.

      ‘We’ll leave you in privacy, sir.’

      ‘My hands will need freeing,’ Beau pointed out.

      His guardian was clearly unhappy. ‘I suppose so.’ He untied the knot with nervous fingers. ‘I’ll be back in a few moments—sir.’

      Beau almost had to laugh, it was all so ridiculous. What would his friends—Prinny and the Duke of Devonshire and the rest of high society—have to say if they could see him like this? Swiftly he eased off his blindfold and stared around. His captors were busy over their fire again, but they were still near enough to spot instantly if he were to try to undo the knotted rope around his right leg. And the older one no doubt still had Beau’s pistol in his belt.

      He assessed the two men swiftly. The older one, a lanky fellow, wore a long coat in a peculiar shade of red, and a black hat with a feather in it. The younger was—well, the younger was just a fair-haired lad, pleasant-looking enough, wearing breeches and a leather tunic.

      He spotted their horses—a pony and an old grey mare—over on the far side of the clearing, and tethered beside them was Palfreyman’s bay horse. After a few moments Beau called out to his captors and allowed them to lead him back to the charcoal-burner’s hut.

      They were clearly upset that he’d removed his blindfold, but after conferring together decided there was little point now in replacing it. They tied his wrists again, but his legs were left free. Preferring to remain standing, Beau leaned against the doorway and watched the two men bend over their small fire—he could smell bacon cooking. He wondered how Palfreyman had felt yesterday when Beau failed to turn up for his four o’clock appointment. Most likely he’d opened a bottle of his best wine to celebrate.

      ‘You take the food over to him, Luke,’ he heard the older one say. As the younger one approached, Beau stared down at him fiercely.

      The lad cleared his throat. ‘Here’s some bread and bacon for you, sir. Is there anything else you need?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Beau curtly as he took the hunk of hot bacon wrapped in two slabs of bread. ‘I need to be set free. I want my pistol back and that bay horse, so I can ride to Oxford and report the pair of you for kidnap and violence.’

      ‘It’s not kidnap!’ The lad sounded terrified. ‘And we’re only to keep you here until Miss Deb gets back, she said so. Then we can let you go, I swear...’

      ‘You take orders from a girl?’ said Beau with contempt.

      The lad flushed to the roots of his fair hair and hurried off. Beau ate the bacon and bread, then settled himself on the floor and pretended to be asleep again. They came over to check him, then stood outside, talking. They talked for quite a while; then the older one said, ‘Best get going with our jobs, lad. The horses need feeding and watering for a start—I’ll see to that, and lead them down to the river. You go and explore the track—in both directions, mind. Make sure there aren’t any search parties out looking for our prisoner, do you understand?’

      ‘But shouldn’t one of us stay to keep an eye on—him?’

      ‘With his wrists tied, and that rope round his leg? Our Mr Beaumaris is going nowhere in a hurry. Besides, he looks to be sleeping again...’

      Their voices faded. Lying by the open door of the hut, Beau opened one eye and watched the younger one set off anxiously towards the track, while the other made for the horses.

      They’d left the fire burning low.

      As soon as they were out of sight, Beau began to get to his feet, smiling grimly to himself.