The two men rolled across the floor of the hall, kicking and swearing. The Pathan fought like a fury, but his opponent outweighed him and had the advantage of surprise.
Sara scanned the hall, looking for some weapon to use on the guard. As her gaze fell on a wooden chair, Mrs. Kent seized Sara's arms in a powerful grip.
Though Sara struggled to free herself, the other woman effortlessly immobilized her. "I don't know who you are, my fine lady," the madam snarled, "but you got no business here."
Kuram managed to throw off his assailant, but the other man grabbed a stone doorstop from the corner of the hall when he fell. The fight ended abruptly when the guard smashed the heavy weight into the side of Kuram's head.
The Pathan groaned and went limp. As blood began soaking through the white fabric of his turban, Sara cried out and tried to go to him, but she couldn't break the madam's grip.
"Tie him up in the back room," Mrs. Kent ordered the guard. "The master may want to question him, so don't kill him yet."
Sara's hood had fallen back when the women struggled. Mrs. Kent studied her captive with narrowed eyes, then gave a slow, unpleasant smile. "I'd lay fifty quid you're the older wench my master described not more'n ten minutes ago. He's going to be right pleased to see you." She twisted Sara's wrist viciously. "You'll wait in my office till he's through upstairs."
In the office the madam searched her captive with rough thoroughness, giving a grunt of satisfaction when she discovered the money hidden in the cloak. "This is a day for good things coming out of bad. First a mistake gave me a new girl for the house, and now you walk in ripe for the fleecing."
Mrs. Kent pushed Sara into a heavy chair, then lashed her wrists together and tied them to one wooden arm. Knowing that the more helpless she appeared, the more careless and contemptuous Mrs. Kent would be, Sara shrank back in the chair, letting her fear show.
Looking frightened was easy, for Jenny had been right—Sara was a fool to have come here. Not only had she failed to help Eliza, her disastrous error in judgment might cost her and Kuram their lives.
Worst of all, Mikahl might come and be taken unaware by the guard. Closing her eyes, Sara forced herself to calmness. Then she began to pray.
* * *
As his daughter spoke, Weldon stood stock-still, his body chill with stupefaction. He, who always had prided himself on being unshockable, now found that the sight of his daughter's plight was like a blade thrust mortally deep into his heart.
Eliza's voice traded off uncertainly. "Papa... Papa, are you all right?"
Her question snapped Weldon from his horror-struck trance into molten, coruscating rage. If it had not been for Peregrine, Eliza would never have been abducted. Her presence in this foul place was an abomination, a corruption of innocence for which that bastard was responsible, and for which he would be made to pay an unspeakable price.
The sight of Eliza's wide, panicky eyes forced Weldon to curb his rage. Before vengeance could be executed, his daughter must be freed. With clumsy fingers, he began undoing the sashes that bound her to the bed. "Don't worry, darling," he said in a shattered voice. "Papa's here. I won't let anyone hurt you."
Released from her bonds, Eliza sat up and leaned into her father's embrace as she shook with desperate sobs. "I was going to call on Lady Sara, just for a few minutes, but they grabbed me on the street just outside Haddonfield House," she gasped. "They had a smelly rag that put me to sleep. When I woke up, I was here and a horrible woman was touching me. She said I could never go home again. She said I would have to..."
As his daughter's voice broke entirely, Weldon patted her on the back, crooning over and over that she was safe now, that her father would never let anyone harm her. When Eliza's sobs finally subsided, he asked, "Are your clothes here?"
She swallowed, then spoke with a heartbreaking attempt at bravery. "The awful woman put them in that chest of drawers."
"You get dressed while I go downstairs and make sure it is safe for you to leave." Weldon's trembling hand touched his daughter's bright hair as she gazed at him with trustful eyes.
"Yes, Papa." In her father's presence, Eliza was recovering from her terror. "I knew you would come and everything would be all right."
Out in the corridor, Weldon leaned back against the closed door, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to suppress horrifying images of what would have been done to Eliza if he hadn't chanced to come to the house. His precious daughter would have been defiled by some filthy brute who did not recognize true innocence when he saw it.
Peregrine was behind this, but Mrs. Kent and the guards who had kidnapped Eliza were also guilty. They should have known as soon as they saw her that she was pure; they should never have laid their vile hands on her. They would pay. By God, all of them would pay!