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certain you were recovered, no one seemed to know precisely where you had gone.” He put his head to one side, smiling a smile that made Vivian’s blood run absolutely hot with fury. He was toying with her. She wanted to claw his eyes out for it.
    “That was very kind of you, but—”
    “But completely pointless,” he finished for her. “Did it take long to rejoin your accomplices?”
    “I—but—no—” She covered her face with both hands, trying to gather her panicked thoughts. How had he sussed out most of their operation, just from looking at her? She had to get away, had to warn the others that someone was on to them and would be setting the constables on them. It was definitely time to move on, all the way to Scotland perhaps. “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” she bleated piteously.
    “There, dear,” he said. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Rest your nerves. The answer will come to you soon enough, I expect.”
    Vivian finally decided to resort to weeping, something she only employed in desperate circumstances. It was always useful to keep one weapon in her arsenal in reserve. But these circumstances were desperate, like no others she could remember, and so she scrunched up her face and set to crying in the most pathetic manner she possibly could.
    “A magnificent performance,” he commented after a few moments. Vivian swiped at her eyes, trying not to glare at him.
    “What else can I do? You won’t believe a word I say.”
    “True,” he agreed. “I won’t.” But the carriage was coming to a stop. She risked a glance out the window. If he would get out, or better yet, let her out, she would be gone in a flash.
    Her captor pushed open the door himself and jumped down. His figure filled the doorway. “Come along now,” he said.
    She clutched her reticule in front of her chest. “No.”
    The wretched man’s face didn’t change. Vivian swallowed hard, battling back fear and fury. “I said, come along,” he repeated. “Or I shall make you.”
    What the ruddy hell did he plan to do? Terrible images whirled through her mind. She dug the worn toes of her boots into the carriage floor, bracing herself. “No.”
    He leaned toward her, his hands on either side of the doorway. “Come,” he said in a silky voice that almost sounded seductive. Vivian balled her left hand into a fist. She had to time this just right….
    “If you insist.” Faster than expected, he lunged forward and seized her wrist, dragging her half out of the carriage. Vivian gave a startled little shriek, swinging wildly as he pulled her off balance and sideways. Her fist connected, pretty well to judge by the pain that shot up her arm, but he just gave a tiny grunt and then laughed. The blackguard laughed .
    Now fighting in earnest, Vivian still found herself hauled out of the carriage and held upright against him, his one arm around her waist and his other around her shoulders. He adjusted his hold, and she found herself on her tiptoes. She clawed at his hand, scrabbling with her toes for balance, and his hand came to rest at her throat. He had a big hand. She could feel his fingers sweep lightly across the base of her neck, and she went still, her heart about to burst from beating so hard.
    “You’ve lost the fight,” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t intend to hurt you, so cease trying to hurt me.”
    She swung her feet a little, desperately trying to get some leverage. Her worn half boots wouldn’t do any serious damage, even if she could kick him. “Let me go,” she said between her teeth. “I’ll cry murder!”
    He sighed. “The neighbors won’t pay it any mind, my dear.” With a squeeze around her waist, he lifted her a little higher and proceeded to walk up the steps into a house that looked immensely forbidding to Vivian. In fact, now that she looked around, she realized how deep in trouble she was. This was a fancy neighborhood, with clean-swept walks and wide streets and houses