the rag and move my jaw to get some feeling back. I turned around so I faced Tom. I must have looked a fright, my hair wild around my face, and I must assume, a red line where the gag had been, for he closed his eyes briefly, and his face contorted. “I’m sorry, Rose, I’m sorry.” Despair etched his voice.

I coughed, and although my mouth was dry, I found I could talk. “Never mind, Tom. These people are brutes. It’s their fault, not yours.”

“But if I hadn’t had a hand in killing that man…”

“You can’t repine on that. We have to think, to see what can be done.” He nodded, seeing the sense of that. “Tom, you did well with my gag. Do you think you could do as well with my other bonds?”

I turned my back on him again, and worked my way up so he could see the ropes fastening my arms and hands. “No,” I heard him say. “The knots are much better. I’d need a knife to get through these.”

I shuffled back down and turned to face him again. “I don’t think there’s much point shouting or they would have gagged us both.”

He agreed. “There might be someone outside on guard, waiting for us to call out. We should stay quiet, and try to think what to do. There might be a chance,” he said. “Rose—look inside my coat. There’s a small pocket there, where I keep my knife.”

Heartened, I nuzzled my way inside his coat, and found the pocket by touch. I used my teeth to pull it open, tearing the seam in the process. There was nothing inside. I went back up to where he waited, anxiously, and I shook my head. “Nothing.”

He sighed. “They must have searched me.”

“I don’t think they searched me.” I rolled on the floor and felt the pocket around my waist hard against my leg. I came back to Tom. “I still have my necessaire. There’s a small fruit knife in it.”

“Where is it?” He tried to work his way down to my waist, wincing from the pain in his head, but then the door opened. We froze.

The light from the open door blinded us at first, and we both lay squinting against it. Two men came in, followed by another who carried two chairs and another with a table and candles. The door closed. One of the men placed a chair against it and sat down heavily against our only way of escape. The first man sat. Even sitting, his presence was heavier, more commanding than the smugglers we had seen up to now, and I realised we must be getting close to the head of the gang. The man regarded us in silence, and we stared back.

I broke the silence. “Cawnton.”

He smiled. Most of his teeth were missing, which didn’t improve his appearance. “Miss Rosalind Golightly. Soon to be Lady Strang.”

I replied, careful to keep all trace of a tremor out of my voice, deliberately speaking quietly so he couldn’t detect my fear. “Now the introductions are over are you going to let us go?”

“I might.” His accent was also Devonshire, but not as pure as the men I’d heard earlier. He must have spent some time away from his home county. In the army, perhaps?

“Why have you done this?” Tom demanded. “What do you want with us?”

“Now then.” Cawnton rubbed his hands together. “I might want many things, mightn’t I? You killed one of my men, and I intend to get his worth, one way or the other. I can’t see the law giving me anything, so, as usual, I’ll have to take it for myself.”

In one unhurried movement, he stood up, moved forward and kicked Tom in the stomach. If Tom hadn’t seen his intention and squirmed aside, it would have been in the groin, but it was bad enough. He didn’t cry out; he couldn’t. All the breath was forced out of him with that one cruel kick. He doubled up and gasped for breath, making small noises.

Cawnton walked back to his chair. “That’s just the start. Understand, I have no personal feelings for you one way or the other, but I can’t let my men be hurt by other people. I have to keep order.” He looked from one to the other of us thoughtfully. “All right then, here it is. Is he ready to listen?”

“No,” I said. Tom still gasped painfully. I wet my lips, as I watched him, and although I would have died rather than ask, Cawnton must have seen the gesture, because he came to me and knelt down to where I sat. His eyes were on a level with mine. Grey and thoughtful eyes they were, the eyes of an intelligent man. I flinched and turned my head away, but he held up what he had in his hand. A pewter mug filled with some liquid. He held the back of my head and put the mug to my lips. “It’s only small beer. Nothing funny about it.”

I had little choice. I drank. Close to him, I smelled him, that rank, damp smell caused by little washing and unhealthy cottages. He must have noticed when I instinctively flinched away, because as I drank he sniffed and commented, “You should see me when I dress for a ball. I smell beautiful then.” His two companions laughed, and I feared this closeness. My panic rose at the thought of what they might do, but Cawnton moved away again and sat.

Tom had regained something of his self-control, for he sat up glowering at Cawnton. “My father will find you.”

“No he won’t,” Cawnton answered. “Or at least, he won’t find you in time. Don’t worry,