"Sweet bloody Jesus," one of the men said in exasperation as he collapsed onto a cushion. "What a little hellcat. If she was mine, I'd teach her to keep her mouth shut."

The other man chuckled lewdly. He prodded Phoebe's hip with the toe of his boot. "I expect she'll be singin' a different tune by mornin'. A night at Alice's place is enough to make even a hellcat mind her tongue."

Phoebe froze on the floor of the carriage. Alice's place.

She forced herself to calm down and think logically. There was nothing she could do while she was trussed up here in the carriage, but sooner or later she would have her chance. In the meantime she silently went to work trying to wriggle her wrists free from the hastily tied rope that bound them.

The crowded streets slowed travel to a crawl. It seemed ages before the carriage eventually came to a halt. When it did, one of the two men shoved open the door and then reached inside to assist his partner. Together they lifted Phoebe out of the cab and carried her up a flight of steps.

She glanced around, trying to orient herself as she was carried down a long hall. She was carted past several doors, all of them firmly closed. A woman's laughing shriek sounded from behind one of them. The slap of a whip on flesh followed by a man's anguished groan emanated from behind another.

"What 'ave ye got there?" a woman's drunken voice demanded. "A new girl?"

"That's right. And it ain't none of yer business," one of the men carrying Phoebe said.

"Didn't know Alice was 'avin' to pick 'em up off the street these days," the woman muttered as she went on past. "Always plenty of applicants for a job 'ere in the Velvet 'ell."

"This one's special. Alice says she has a customer with peculiar tastes," one of the men said.

Phoebe heard a door open. She was carried into a dark room and dropped on top of a bed. She lay still, struggling to get her bearings in the shadows.

"That's that, then," one of the men said in relief. "Time to collect our pay and get out of 'ere."

The door closed behind them with a solid, chunking sound. A few seconds later Phoebe heard a key turn in the lock. Footsteps went down the hall.

Silence descended.

Phoebe sat up slowly. Her pulse was racing and her heart was pounding. For an instant she thought she would suffocate because of the gag. The fear that was rippling through her made everything worse. The dark world spun around her. She wondered in alarm if she might actually be going to faint.

Slowly and with great difficulty she managed to rein in the terror that threatened to turn her into a madwoman. She had to stay calm or all was lost.

The first step was to get free of the gag and the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles.

Phoebe wriggled to the edge of the bed and swung her feet down to the floor. Surely where there was a bed there would be a table nearby to hold such necessities as a candle and perhaps some useful implements. She would dearly love to find a knife.

The small table was right where one would expect. Phoebe managed to hook the drawer knob under her gag and pry the dirty cloth out of her mouth. She sucked in a great gulp cf air and turned her back to the drawer. She fumbled with it, using her bound hands to pull it open.

Inside the drawer was a small bottle of the sort that usually held laudanum.

The sound of a key scraping in the lock interrupted Phoebe's awkward search. She hastily closed the drawer and tumbled back down onto the bed.

Light from the hall splashed onto the counterpane as the door of the chamber opened. A woman stood in the opening.

"Welcome to the Velvet Hell," the woman said. "I'm glad you are here. And none too soon. I have wasted enough time and money on this venture."

She walked into the room and closed the door behind her. Phoebe heard the candle on the table being lit. When the flame flared, it revealed a halo of golden blond hair and the pretty face of the mysterious Alice.

"I see you are getting on in the world, Alice," Phoebe said quietly. "I assume running a brothel pays better than the position of housemaid."

"A great deal better." Alice smiled thinly. "A woman in my position must make the most of her opportunities."

Phoebe eyed her warily. "What are you going to do with me?"

"I had what I thought was a truly clever plan." Alice came to the edge of the bed and stood looking down at Phoebe. "But I fear time is running out. Neil is close to discovering what has been happening, so I must give up my original scheme and proceed in another manner."

Phoebe did not move. "What are you talking about? What was your original plan?"

"Why, to frighten you into selling the book, of course. I count more than one or two collectors among my clients here at the Velvet Hell and I have discovered they tend to be an eccentric, superstitious lot."

"You tried to make the curse come true, didn't you?"

"Yes. Neil had told me all about it, you see. He talked a great deal about that damn book. After I carried out the second part of the curse, I intended to send you a note. I wanted you to believe that an anonymous collector was offering to buy The Lady in the Tower. I thought that by then you would be happy to sell the thing just to get rid of it."

"Were you Neil's mistress three years ago?"

"Oh, yes," Alice said bitterly. "I was Neil's mistress all the while he pretended to be your devoted Lancelot. He told me he had a plan to get money out of your father. He told me that he would marry me as soon as he achieved his goal. He claimed it was me he loved, not you. And fool that I was, I believed him."

"This is all so confusing," Phoebe whispered. "I do not know who or what to believe. How did you know about the catacombs?"

"Servants' talk in the little village near Devil's Mist." Alice sat down in a chair, her posture as graceful as that of any lady. "I am a fair actress. It was easy enough to play the part of a tavern wench for a few days. I learned everything I needed to know about the castle."

"I see."

"At first I had intended merely to push you over the cliffs into the sea. But when I learned of the catacombs and the secret passage, I was intrigued with the notion of using them instead. I did not actually want you dead, you see. Merely frightened."

"You could have killed me the night you started the fire in my bedchamber."

"Not likely." Alice shrugged. "I assumed your husband would be with you and that you would not be asleep yet. You are, after all, a recently married woman, and the rumors are that Wylde is besotted with his new bride."

"What do you intend to do now?" Phoebe demanded.

"Hold you for ransom, of course. Your husband will receive a message saying that he can have you back in exchange for the book. Things will be a bit more difficult this way, but I really have no choice. As I said, Neil has learned of my plans and time is running out."

Phoebe gazed at her intently. "Why do you want the book, Alice? What is so important about it?"

"I don't know," Alice said simply.

"You're going to all this trouble and you don't know why?" Phoebe asked in disbelief.

"I only know that Neil wants The Lady in the Tower very badly. That is enough for me." Alice's fingers tightened on the arm of the chair and her eyes gleamed with barely suppressed rage. "He has talked of nothing else since his return except getting that stupid book back. Well, now he will have to deal with me in order to get his hands on it and I shall extract a very, very high price."

Phoebe wondered if she were, indeed, dealing with a madwoman. "I think Neil only wants the book for sentimental reasons."

"There is more to it than that," Alice said. "There must be. Neil could not possibly harbor any great, undying devotion for you. It is all an act, I know it is."