A Seduction at Christmas by Cathy Maxwell Page A

where he is until I return. I’ll see if I can coax one of the night porters to come back with me tonight to help us with Holburn.”
    “I’m hoping this whole matter is played out by then,” Fiona replied.
    Gathering up her wool cape, Grace said, “I hope it is, too. But just in case, I shall bring strong arms to help us.” She gave Fiona a hug. “Send for me if you need help before this evening.”
    “I will,” Fiona promised and Grace left.
    Holburn had gone quiet.
    The occupants of the room overhead shut a door. Footsteps sounded going down the stairs in the hallway. People were leaving for wherever it is they had to go during the day.
    This was the time, when everyone seemed to have somewhere to be, that Fiona felt the loneliest. The last few days since Madame Sophie had let her go had been torturous.
    But now, she had something to do.
    She had to take care of her hostage—and her first course of action was going to arrange for his ransom.
    Crossing to her chest, she took out a small writing box. It held pen, paper, and ink. Picking up a chair from the table, she went to visit the duke.
    He lay on the bed, tied down as she’d left him, mouth full of neck cloth, staring at the ceiling.
    She set her chair down beside the bed and took out her writing materials. She placed the small bottle of ink on the bedside table. Tad inched closer to her.
    “Now, Your Grace,” she said, “I’m going to write a note to your banker and you are going to sign it.”
    He mumbled something that sounded very profane.
    “You shouldn’t talk like that,” she told him. “It’s unbecoming in a gentleman.”
    Holburn’s brows shot together in fury. She smiled, enjoying herself.
    She used the top of the box for a writing table.
    “Now, let’s see, what shall we write your banker?” She dipped the pen in ink and began, “Dear Sir, Please advance the sum of five hundred pounds to the bearer of this letter.”
    Fiona nodded. “That sounds good, doesn’t it?”
    Holburn glared at her, and shook the bed with his effort to break free.
    “You are wasting your time, Your Grace,” she said, not unkindly. “I know how to tie a knot, which is good because you are going to have to stay here until I withdraw the funds. I can’t set you free before that.”
    An idea had been forming in her head sinceGrace had mentioned the porter. She and Tad would leave London straight from the bank. She’d hire a lad from the street to free the duke. Of course, she’d contact Grace before she left and warn her to stay away.
    It was a good plan.
    “I know you don’t like being bested. It makes you angry. However, look at this another way. If you don’t sign, I shall do everything in my power to annoy you. It shouldn’t take me long. A diet of porridge and nettle tea should bring you around soon enough. There’s also the boredom of lying in that bed for hours.”
    His gaze narrowed suggestively.
    “Alone ,” she emphasized. “You will be alone. I’ll give you a moment to think over the matter.” She set her writing box on the floor and left the room. She took her time brewing a cup of tea. When done, she carried it into his room.
    Tasting the tea, she smiled. “Mmmmmm, nettle tea. It tastes so green. So different from wine. By the way, do you know what happens when a man accustomed to drinking his weight in grape can’t have any? It makes him irritable. Crotchety. All I must do is keep talking and before you know it, you won’t be able to stand the sound of my voice. You won’t want to eat the food I cook for you and you will want your freedom. Fivehundred pounds is a bargain in exchange for a good beef steak—”
    He interrupted her with a huge groaning noise and then raised the fingers of the hand closest to her and pretended to write.
    Wearing him down hadn’t taken any time at all. “Very good,” she said. She’d wrapped the ropes around his body on her cot, but had tied each wrist separately, securing it to the bed frame.