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.