“You’ve already—”
Reynaud turned his head and hit Lord Hasselthorpe with a stare. “Take it off.”
Lord Hasselthorpe frowned, but he stepped forward, keeping his eyes on Reynaud. He fumbled, one-handed, with the cloth tied at the back of her head, and then the binding fell.
Beatrice spat out the wadded cloth in her mouth. “Reynaud, he’ll kill you!”
“Shut up,” Lord Hasselthorpe said.
“Don’t.” Reynaud took a step toward the other man, seemingly oblivious to the raised gun between them. He stared at Lord Hasselthorpe a moment, then looked at Beatrice, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “Has he hurt you?”
“No,” she whispered. “Reynaud, you cannot.”
“Hush.” He shook his head slightly and almost smiled. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
“She’s alive and I want the money,” Lord Hasselthorpe said impatiently.
“What guarantee can you give me that she’ll go free?” Reynaud was staring at her, as if memorizing her features.
Beatrice felt ice begin to form at her center. “Reynaud,” she whispered, pleading now.
“My wife is in residence,” Lord Hasselthorpe said. “She has nothing to do with this. I’ll put Lady Blanchard into her care and send the both of them to London. I’ve already sent a footman to bring Adriana here.”
“You don’t intend to take your wife with you?” Reynaud’s eyes were horribly gentle, and though he spoke to the other man, his gaze never left her face.
“Why should I?” Lord Hasselthorpe replied impatiently.
The corner of Reynaud’s mouth twitched. How could he find any of this amusing? “A certain sentimentality, perhaps?”
“I haven’t time for sentimentality or your wit,” Lord Hasselthorpe snapped. “If you want your wife to live to see the dawn—”
“Very well.” Reynaud threw the saddlebag at Lord Hasselthorpe’s feet just as Lady Hasselthorpe appeared in the doorway to the dungeon.
“Why, my lord, you didn’t tell me we had guests,” Lady Hasselthorpe exclaimed as if being woken before dawn to greet callers in the dungeon was perfectly normal. She seemed not to notice that her husband held a gun on one of her “guests.”
She made to step into the dungeon, but the burly footman by her side prevented her. “Best not, my lady. ’Tis dirty down here.”
Lord Hasselthorpe nodded to the man. Despite the footman’s words, his real reason for stopping her must be so that she wouldn’t get too near Reynaud.
“I’d like you to take Lady Blanchard to London, my dear,” Lord Hasselthorpe said. “She’s ill and Lord Blanchard and I have business to discuss.” He reached behind Beatrice with one hand and unlocked the chains about her wrists.
Beatrice’s heart sank. “Reynaud, I can’t leave you here.”
Lord Hasselthorpe gave Reynaud a hard look. “It matters not to me, but you know the alternative.”
Reynaud’s mouth thinned. “Let me talk to her.”
“As you wish.”
Reynaud bent to her ear, his face against hers. Beatrice’s hands were still tied behind her back. She wished they were free so she might feel his dear face.
“You must leave with Lady Hasselthorpe,” he whispered in her ear.
She felt hot tears overflow her eyes. “No. No, you said you would never put yourself in another man’s power again.”
“I was wrong.” His breath caught on a quiet laugh that blew against her cheek. He smelled of horse and leather and her husband. “So very wrong. I was foolish and vain, and I nearly didn’t realize it in time. I nearly lost you. But I didn’t.”
“Reynaud,” she sobbed.