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."
"Alice, I believe you have become crazed with your desire for revenge against Neil," Phoebe said gently.
"Perhaps." Alice rose to her feet and went to stand near the bed. "A woman in my profession spends a great many nights in hell. It is enough to drive anyone mad. Only the strongest of us survive."
"You have survived."
"Yes," Alice whispered. "I have survived. And one of the things that has kept me going is the hope of gaining my revenge on Neil Baxter. He is the one who condemned me to the Velvet Hell."
Phoebe stared at her. "What will happen to me?"
"You?" Alice gave her a speculative look. "I suppose it might be amusing for me to make the last part of the curse come true for you, as it has for me."
"What are you talking about?"
"How does the last part of the book curse go?" Alice leaned closer. "Something about spending an eternal night in hell. I could make you spend an eternal night in hell, Lady Wylde. One night in this place serving my customers would certainly seem like a night in hell to a woman like you."
Phoebe said nothing. Her mouth went dry. She held Alice's half-wild eyes and did not look away.
"But I do not hate you that much," Alice continued softly. "You are merely the means to an end." She reached down, grasped the flimsy bodice of Phoebe's bright gown, and tore the delicate silk dress all the way to the hem. Within seconds Phoebe was lying amid the shredded fabric, wearing only her petticoat.
"Why did you do that?" Phoebe demanded furiously.
"Just a precaution. I doubt you will be able to free yourself from the ropes, but in the event you did, the lack of a decent gown will keep you from attempting to escape."
"You think so?"
Alice gave her a chilling smile. "You never know whom you will meet in the halls of the Velvet Hell, madam. Chances are excellent you will run into some old friends of the family. Your husband will not thank you if you crucify his honor and your own reputation by being seen here. And what will you do when you reach the street?"
Phoebe had to admit she had a point. "Alice, listen to me—"
"Use your common sense. Stay here and do not cause any trouble until your lord ransoms you."
Alice dropped the shredded silk on the floor and walked out of the chamber. She closed the door very softly behind her. Phoebe heard the key turn in the lock.
Phoebe waited until she was sure the woman had gone down the hall. When all was quiet, she sat up again on the edge of the bed. She turned around and fumbled with the drawer in the bedside table. A moment later her fingers closed around the little bottle of laudanum.
She dropped the bottle, deliberately smashing it into several pieces. Crouching down, she leaned back and carefully picked up one of the shards of glass.