A Lily Among Thorns(101)

“‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.’” Solomon gave Elijah a small smile. “I’ll be all right. It’s Serena I’m worried about. He took her with him while you were—” He jerked his head in the direction of the door to the hallway. It really did hurt, and he winced. Elijah bit his lip, and with his brother thus distracted by murderous thoughts, Solomon said, “He said—there are a lot of people in the dining room who could get hurt.” The best lie is a half-truth.

Elijah’s lips thinned. “If he thinks he can take her out the public rooms and get away with it, he’ll find his mistake. Be careful, gentlemen. If you let the lady get hurt, we’ll all have to answer to his lordship her father. Tread carefully and don’t hesitate to shoot if you see an opportunity.” The agents nodded and disappeared out the door and, hopefully, down the main stairs.

Solomon closed his eyes in silent prayer.

“Steady on, Sol,” Elijah said softly. “Scalp wounds always look worse than they are. Let me get you to the bed.”

“Shouldn’t you be chasing after Sacreval? He’s got Serena.”

“He’s unlikely to get far. We’re watching all the doors. I’ll go as soon as I’ve seen to you. Now let me get you to the bed.”

Solomon got to his feet, shaking his head. “I’ll stain the sheets. Just get me some water. I’d say Madeira, but it’s soaking into the floorboards as we speak.” He hoped Serena wouldn’t mind too much.

“Let’s start with the water, shall we?”

“There are some clean rags on my worktable.”

“Perfect. Sit on the bench by the lamp.”

Elijah brought the pitcher over to the table, wet a rag, and gently dabbed at Solomon’s cut. It stung, and Solomon drew in a hissing breath and jerked his head away.

“Solomon, you have to let me look at it.”

“It’s nothing.” But he could only resist for so long, and finally he sat still and let Elijah lift the lamp to examine his head. Elijah froze. Solomon braced himself.

“This isn’t a bullet wound,” Elijah said in a hard voice.

They couldn’t ask the kitchen to bear the burden of treason with them, so when they went through the kitchen door, Serena was in front of René like a shield. This was the part with the most likelihood of going wrong. His arm was around her throat and he had the cool butt of the pistol pressed against her temple. “Open the tunnel,” René said.

There was absolute silence. This late, the only people working were Antoine, marinating meat for tomorrow’s dinner, and two kitchen boys readying food for breakfast. Frozen in horror, they stared at the pair.

“Open the tunnel or she dies,” René said. Antoine reached for his knife.

“Please, Antoine,” Serena said. “Just let him go.” It worked. Antoine hurried across the floor to the trapdoor and tugged on the iron ring. René pushed her gently across the kitchen.

“You son of a bitch,” Antoine said viciously, all traces of his French accent gone. “You’ll never get out of here alive.”

“Then neither will she,” René said, his voice strung taut. Serena shuddered. It was probably true, if not for the reasons Antoine thought.

The chef spat on the ground at their feet, but he stepped aside and left the way to the tunnel open. Hatred twisted his face. Serena, remembering the hours he and René had spent together, wanted to explain to him that it was all right, that it wasn’t real. But that was impossible. She let René drag her down the stairs.

“If I hear anyone else come through this door, I will shoot her on the spot,” René told them. “If you can hold them off long enough, though, I’ll let her go safe and sound. Now close it and go about your business.”

And the door closed over them, sealing the tunnel in darkness. René let her go, and they raced down the tunnel. When they got to the other end that came out at the laundry, they crouched down and listened.

Serena’s heart sank. The laundry should have been empty at this hour, but the distinct sounds of sex came from above them: a faint rhythmic thumping and the occasional moan. Someone was using the laundry for illicit dalliance. She cursed.

“We’ll give them two minutes to finish and go away,” René said quietly. “Then we try to brazen it out, like we did back there. Once we get out, I can scale the fence behind the laundry.” He sounded unnaturally calm.