With no other option, Georgie hobbled after him and into the first room on the right, a tiny front parlor with a fireplace filled with ashes and dead leaves, a shabby chaise longue, and an overstuffed armchair that seemed to have been recently inhabited by mice. The straw stuffing spewed out of it onto the floor as if it had been disemboweled.

Josiah indicated the chaise longue—only slightly less moth-eaten than the chair. “Have a seat. I’ll see if I can make a fire.”

As soon as he’d left the room, Georgie felt for her knife in her boot. Hell and damnation—it wasn’t there. He must have searched her whilst she was unconscious. The thought of his hands sliding over her body made her nauseous.

She made a quick search of the room, looking for anything she could use to free herself or use as a weapon, but there was nothing except a small mirror-backed wall sconce. If she could break it, she could use a shard of glass to cut her bonds. A few heavy-looking books sat on a bookshelf, their leather bindings dusted with white mold, but she doubted she’d be able to lift them with her hands tied.

Her stomach churned as she tried to imagine what Josiah planned. Did he mean to rape her? She clenched her jaw. If so, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Josiah returned with an armful of logs and set about building a fire in the grate.

“Now what?” Georgie asked stonily.

“Now we wait.”

“For what?”

“Your husband.” He almost spat out the word. “He’s going to bring us the funds we need to get to the Scottish border. And I’m going to kill him.” He smiled at her horrified expression. “You’ll be a widow before the day is out, my dear. When we reach Gretna Green, you’ll marry me, without some ridiculous contract restricting my access to your fortune.”

Georgie tried to keep her voice calm. “How will Benedict know where to come?”

“I’ve sent instructions to the Tricorn.”

Her stomach dropped. “He won’t be there.” He’d already be in that tavern on Ore Street waiting for Johnstone.

“Then it will take him a while to get here. I’m sure we’ll be able to think of something pleasant to pass the time.”

Chapter 34.

Benedict, Seb, and Alex converged in the Tricorn’s checkered hallway at precisely ten o’clock. A familiar sense of nervous energy swirled between them. How many countless times during the war had they met like this, about to set out on a mission?

Alex shot Ben an eager grin as he tugged on a pair of leather gloves. “Remember the ambush we set up in that gorge above Talavera? Six hours, sweltering on a rocky mountainside, before we got our man. At least this time we can wait for our target in a nice comfortable tavern.”