Page 82 of A Dangerous Engagement

He was patting so zealously it was actually painful, but Felicity said nothing. Lady Blackstone brought her the glass of wine.

“Here you are, my dear. This should help settle your nerves. And please don’t worry about anything. The capture of traitors need not concern you in the slightest. Forget you ever knew that man. Your Oliver and I shall take care of all the unpleasant details.”

Felicity obediently sipped her wine. “But you won’t kill him? You said you would hold him prisoner instead.”

“Darling, we must consider what is best for everyone,” Mr.Ratley said.

“We will not kill him tonight, at least,” Lady Blackstone said, “so you may sleep well and not worry. And you will forgive me for searching your room, won’t you, my dear?” Lady Blackstone peered into her face.

“Of course.” Felicity looked down, hoping they would see hurt in her expression. “I understand that you must be very careful, for everyone’s sake. I shall forget about the little thing of having my room searched, but if a man I have talked with, had dinner with, and danced with at a ball is killed while he lies helpless in an outdoor shed ...” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m afraid that would be much harder to forget.”

Lady Blackstone huffed. Had Felicity gone too far?

“Go up to your room, Felicity. Get some sleep. We are all exhausted after a trying day.”

“Yes, my lady.” Felicity kept her gaze lowered as Mr.Ratley took her arm and led her toward the staircase.

“I am sorry you had to see that violence, my darling,” Mr.Ratley said.

Felicity sniffed but didn’t look up.

When they stopped in front of her room, he leaned down to kiss her, but she presented him with her cheek. He kissed it.

“When I close my eyes, I see that man’s poor battered face. Good night, Oliver.” She opened her door and went inside, shutting it behind her.

Philip lay on the mattress where they threw him. His rib was probably cracked, as every breath caused a sharp pain. Thankfully, all his teeth seemed intact. He moved his jaw up and down, but it didn’t feel broken. His cheekbone was a different story. It was hugely swollen, and the pain was intense.

They had left his wrists tied. What would happen to him now? If he could not escape, they would surely kill him, despite what they had told Miss Mayson. That was just to placate her.

“Oh, Miss Mayson,” he said softly, and moaned, since no one was there to hear him.

He had opened his eyes just a bit when she had been leaning over him, touching his face with the cloth. The compassion in her expression as she gazed at him ... It had squeezed his stomach, but rather pleasantly, to witness her concern for him.

He shouldn’t think of her that way—the terrified but fierce look in her eyes, the way her hair fell about her face, the tears threatening to fall. How much he wished he could touchherface.

But the first thing he had to do was get these ropes off.

It was quite dark in the shed, reminding him of the time he had been trapped there with Miss Mayson. They had been in several compromising situations that would have ruined her reputation if anyone had discovered them. Throughout, she had shown intelligence, strength of mind, modesty, and good character. She was exactly the girl he wished to marry. And if she were in here with him again, he would ... but his prospects were far from certain. How could he ask her to take a chance that he might make his fortune someday?

What would happen to Miss Mayson if he died? She might be forced to marry Mr.Ratley. Or if she refused, Lady Blackstone was ruthless enough to kill her. He couldn’t let that happen.

He made the effort to push himself into a sitting position. His head throbbed, but he did his best to ignore it. He looked around for something he might use to cut his bonds. If his hands were free, he might find a way to climb up to the window high in the wall and crawl out.

It was difficult to stand, with his sore ribs and bound hands, but a feeling of urgency spurred him to make the effort, and he managed to get to his feet. He stood still, waiting for his vision to stop spinning, then he started walking around the room, inspecting everything, looking for any kind of sharp object, a piece of broken glass, anything.

When he made it back around to the door again, he tried to open it with his hands, standing on his toes to reach the knob. It was definitely locked. Later he might try ramming his shoulder against it, but for now, he wasn’t sure he could stay conscious if he tried that.

Suddenly, he noticed a nail protruding about an inch through the wall next to the door. He touched his finger to it. It was surprisingly sharp. He pressed his ropes against it, finding one particular spot, and rubbed with a sawing motion as hard as he was able to stand as the rope chafed his wrists.

Hope rose inside him as he stared at the window, planning and working at the nail.

Felicity lay in bed thinking of Mr.Merrick and how she might help to free him.

An hour after she had gone to bed, she put on a loose dress over her nightgown and went downstairs, planning to go out to the shed and see if she could figure out a way to get inside. But she heard voices near the door leading outside. It sounded like Lady Blackstone. That lady would surely deduce what Felicity was planning to do if she saw her. So she went back up to her room.

She tried to imagine how much pain Mr.Merrick was in. Would he incur permanent damage, having his hands tied behind his back for so long? Not to mention the injuries from the beating to his face. And when she thought of how he had saved her from the runaway horse, and how he might have escaped and been on his way to his own home at that very moment if he had not taken the time and trouble to save her ... she couldn’t hold back the tears, and soon her pillow was quite wet and cold.

She awakened from a nightmare just as dawn was breaking. Once more, she got dressed and walked quietly down the stairs.