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.‘I warned you to mind your manners,’ her captor said coolly.He squatted down on his haunches beside her bed.‘You ain’t going to make any more trouble now, are you, pretty lady?’ For good measure, he laid one meaty paw upon her ankle, running his hand under her skirts a way.Deborah had thought she was levelheaded enough to cope with anything.But the slide of that man’s hand filled her with such sick loathing, she couldn’t prevent herself from uttering a shriek of terror and drawing her leg away.She was completely in his power.The violence he had used to subdue her had been meant as a demonstration of what she might expect should she offer any further resistance.He could do anything to her, and there was nobody who would stop him.She felt as though she had stumbled into another world.A world where the rules that had governed her sheltered existence until that point no longer applied.In this world, men could strike women in the street, and anyone who saw it would pretend they had not, lest they suffer the same fate.‘Pity, almost, you’ve broke so soon,’ he mused.‘I would have enjoyed making you mind me.’ He reached out, as though intending to take hold of her again.And Deborah scuttled backwards along the bed until she was curled into a ball, pressed up against the wall.He leaned over her, his eyes boring into hers as he took firm hold of her arm.When he snapped the strings of her reticule, as he pulled it from her wrist, she almost fainted with relief.He tore it open, tipping the contents on to the rough brick floor.‘You don’t carry much money for a woman as has married such a wealthy man,’ he complained as he picked out the coins from amongst her clutter of personal effects.‘Still, it will pay for the cab fare, and your board for as long as you’re with us.’With that, he left the room, bolting the door behind him.She was ashamed to find she was shaking like a leaf, little whimpers of distress escaping her lips with every ragged breath.She had not thought she was a coward, but that man’s casual attitude to violence, his clear enjoyment of inflicting injury on her, had been inhuman.He had even indicated he wanted her to resist, so that he would have an excuse to hurt her even more.What kind of a monster was he?And why had these men taken her? She simply could not understand why anyone should want to kidnap her.Though she was definitely their intended victim.They had called her by name.Her face and hair felt sticky, her left eyebrow throbbing from where her kidnapper had slammed her face against the coach door.She knew she was bleeding, but had no way of attending to her hurt, other than pressing her already-stained glove to the cut, hoping pressure might stem the flow.There was nothing in her prison, save the mattress she cowered on and a bucket by the door, which she assumed was for her convenience.The room itself she guessed must be a part of a cellar, since it was so dark.As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she saw that it was shaped in the form of an arch, made of brick.There was no window, and what little light there was filtered in through a small grille set into the stout oak door, which she had heard her captor bolt on the outside.* * *She did not know how long she crouched there.It seemed like a very long time, yet it was not long enough for her to stop shaking.But at length she heard footsteps approaching, and the sound of a chair scraping back.Was her captor sitting on the other side of the door then, guarding her? Though why should he, when there was no way she could escape such a secure prison?She heard the bolts grate and then the door swung open.She found she was panting with renewed fear.Why had they opened the door? What new cruelty did they mean to inflict on her? She felt so vulnerable, huddled on the floor, that she pushed herself shakily to her feet, leaning against the wall when her legs proved to have the consistency of jelly on a summer’s day.A neatly dressed, thin man walked in, and stood regarding her with his head tilted to one side for several minutes.‘I expect, Mrs Fawley,’ he said eventually, ‘you are wondering why I have had you brought here?’She nodded, her mouth so dry with fear she was incapable of speech.‘I need to get your husband’s attention.He owes me, you see, and needs to understand he must pay me back.’‘R…Robert does not have any debts!’‘Well, now, that is where we have to differ.When he cheated a man who does owe me, leaving him without the means to repay me, that man’s debts became his.’Robert would not cheat anyone!The only person who could even come close to making such an accusation against him would be…Percy Lampton.Had the fool borrowed against his expectations?From this man?She looked upon the thin man with dawning comprehension.Lampton had no means of repaying anyone anything now.Robert had all the money he had assumed would be his.‘I see you know exactly what I mean,’ the man sneered.‘So glad you have dropped the pretence of innocence.People like you need to learn you cannot get away with cheating men like me.You must pay.One way or another,’ he said, taking a step towards her, ‘I always make ’em pay.’As he moved, she saw the dull gleam of a knife blade in his hand.‘No!’ she cried, feeling the blood draining from her face.‘I would advise you to hold still, Mrs Fawley, if you don’t want to get hurt any further,’ the thin man said menacingly.‘It will all be over before you know it.’Mad panic gripped her.She darted towards the open door, running full tilt into the burly man, who appeared out of nowhere.He flung her back into the cell so forcefully that the back of her head cracked against the rough brickwork on the wall opposite the door.He stalked in after her, closing one meaty great hand round her throat, whilst deftly untying the ribbons of her bonnet with the other.Deborah’s senses swam.The stench of him filled her nostrils, choking her as effectively as the stranglehold he had round her neck
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