The Mysterious Lord Marlowe. Anne Herries

you why, so don’t ask.’

      ‘What is your name?’

      He hesitated, then, ‘I’m called George by my friends.’

      Jane was sure he was hiding something from her, but she should have expected it. He was hardly likely to tell her his life history under the circumstances.

      ‘Are you intending to let me go?’

      ‘I wish I could. Perhaps later.’ George, as he called himself, looked uncomfortable. ‘Most of the men have started to drink. Eat something and I’ll see what I can do once they are off guard. If I tried to take you out of here by force, you might be killed. I might manage two of them, but three is too many. This needs careful planning.’

      Jane glanced at the food. She was hungry, but more than that she was thirsty. However, she had no intention of touching anything this man had given her. He might be trying to poison her.

      ‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ he said. He took a piece of the bread, spread it with butter and ate it, then drank some wine. ‘You won’t die from eating this, Jane Blair.’

      ‘Thank you. I might eat some later.’ She moved towards him, making an appeal to his sense of fair play. ‘If this Mr Blake is what you seem to imply, he will kill me, won’t he? Do you want to hang for murder as well as abduction?’

      ‘I don’t want you to die.’ He couldn’t meet her eye. ‘If we’re caught, we’ll hang anyway. I was told the other girl was willing. It was supposed to be an elopement made to look like abduction because the girl’s guardian wouldn’t let her marry—but she was certainly not willing. I wasn’t sure what was going on until Blake told them to take you, too. Obviously, I’ve been tricked into this sorry business. I was a damned fool to go along with it, but there were too many of them for me to stop it happening.’

      Jane seized her opportunity. ‘If you help me, we might be able to find her—and I wouldn’t tell anyone you helped abduct us. You could be a hero and no one need know the truth.’

      ‘You talk too much, Miss Blair,’ he said and turned towards the door. ‘Eat your food. If anyone else comes, pretend you don’t know anything. I’ll help you if I can. You have my word.’

      ‘The word of a kidnapper?’

      ‘Be careful, Miss Blair. I may be your only chance.’

      His look was angry as he went out.

      Jane sat on the edge of the bed as he locked the door again. Her legs felt like jelly and she was in sudden need of something to eat. After a few minutes to catch her breath, she took a piece of bread and spread it with butter, swallowing a few mouthfuls before washing it down with wine. The wine was a dark red and tasted dry on her tongue. She would have preferred water, but there was none in the room.

      At least the food took away the shaky feeling she’d had in her legs. She wondered if he had told her the truth about there being three other men in the house. He called himself George. It wasn’t his real name, of course, but it was something to fix in her mind. She’d heard him speak to someone else he hadn’t named, and their leader was Blake.

      Jane cautiously tried the window. It opened easily and she wondered why it hadn’t been locked. Did they imagine that she could not escape from here? Perhaps most young women would not dare, but Jane had climbed trees from early childhood. She glanced at the tree, which was sturdy and grew to the right side of the window. She could climb out onto the wide stone window ledge and edge her way along to the tree. It would be a risk because there was still a small gap between the ledge and the nearest branch, but she thought she could probably do it if she tried.

      Seeing two men riding towards the house, Jane closed the window and drew back, keeping watch from behind the curtain. The men dismounted and walked towards the main door, disappearing inside. Her head was throbbing, but she forced herself to think slowly and not panic. She could not dwell on how far up she was or how much her head hurt. Unless she took her chance now, she might die.

      One of the riders was probably Blake. Had he come to tell them what to do with her? No doubt he would want her silenced for good. There was no time to lose. She must take her chance for escape now—or the ruthless Blake would almost certainly murder her and dispose of her body. The other men were wary of him. George had promised to help her, but she could not rely on his word. None of them would risk their own lives for hers.

      Opening the window, Jane cautiously climbed out on to the ledge. At least it was in reasonable repair and felt solid beneath her feet. Her back pressed against the glass, she edged her way along the stone sill and then realised that she was too far from the branch to reach out and grab it. The branch itself was thick and substantial enough to take her weight, but there was a gap of perhaps two feet beyond what she could reach.

      Jane’s heart was racing and her palms were damp. She knew that she would have to jump and grab at the branch. If she missed, she might fall to the ground and break her neck, but if she stayed here the infamous Blake would undoubtedly break it for her.

      Taking a deep breath and looking at the branch rather than the ground, Jane jumped and grabbed. Her hands touched, but could not hold the branch she was aiming for and she felt herself slithering and falling—but she was falling into the tree. Sharp bits of twig scratched her cheek and her bare arms as she crashed downwards and then, suddenly, she stopped. Her skirt had caught on a broken branch, breaking her fall a short distance from the ground.

      Jane caught hold of a stout branch and clung to it as she recovered her breath and tried to stop shaking. She had come close to death and the shock was making her feel sick and weak, but her head was telling her she couldn’t stay where she was for long. After a few seconds, she was able to think clearly again. She tugged at her gown, which held stubbornly to the branch for a few seconds before ripping and setting her free. Steadying herself with deep breaths, she clambered down and then fell the last few feet to her knees.

      Jane’s hands were stinging and so were her arms and legs. She glanced down and saw blood on her leg where the silk had torn away. Her right palm was bleeding and her cheek was stinging like mad, but these were not the worst of her injuries. As she stood up the pain in her right ankle shot through her and she gasped. Had she broken it? She tried to put weight on her right foot and found she could stand, though the pain was too bad for her to do more than limp.

      She had to walk or hop as far as the woods that bordered the gardens. If the men looked for her and saw her here, they would recapture her easily. There was no choice but to hide somewhere until her ankle became a little easier. Let it be a sprain and not broken!

      It was all she could do not to cry out each time she put her right foot to the floor, but she gritted her teeth and did a sort of hobble skip. Every movement hurt and she was afraid that someone would look out and see her before she reached the safety of the wood.

      Fortune was with her. Battered, bruised but triumphant, Jane reached the trees and disappeared into them. She tasted the salt of tears on her mouth, but they were tears of relief and she brushed them away. It was impossible to move quickly and she knew she wasn’t safe yet. The men were sure to come here as soon as they discovered she was missing.

      Jane had to keep moving, but the pain in her ankle was getting worse and she wasn’t sure how much farther she could go. She had almost reached the limit of her endurance when she saw the hut just ahead of her and hobbled towards it. The door opened easily and she went inside. She could make out a pile of old sacks in the darkness and sank down onto them.

      She couldn’t go any farther until she had rested her ankle. All she could do now was pray that the men would not find her.

      Jane couldn’t be sure how much time had passed when she heard the sounds of shouting. Her stomach clenched; the voices were very near and she knew the men must be searching the wood for her. For a moment panic swept through her. She ought to have kept on walking, got as far away as possible. Perhaps she might have found help, but her ankle was still throbbing.

      When the door of the shed started to open, Jane’s heart jerked with fright. If Blake