It took forever and there was blood on her hands before she finished, but Phoebe managed to sever her ties. She hurriedly undid the ropes that bound her ankles, and stood up.
Drunken laughter sounded out in the hall. Phoebe shuddered. She had to get out of the chamber as quickly as possible, but Alice was right. She dared not risk being seen in the hall.
She opened the door of the wardrobe, hoping to find clothing. It was empty.
She went to the window and looked out. There was nothing but a sheer drop to the dark alley far below. She would surely break her legs if she tried to jump.
Phoebe turned around and studied her shadowed surroundings. There was nothing she could use to escape the horrid chamber.
Except the sheets on the bed.
She dove for the bed.
Less than ten minutes later she had two large sheets securely tied together. She secured one end of her makeshift rope to the bedpost and draped the remainder out the window.
She levered herself up onto the sill, took a firm grip on the knotted sheets, and began to lower herself down the wall into the alley.
"Phoebe." Neil Baxter's voice rose softly from the depths of the alley. "For God's sake, have a care, my love. I'm coming to get you."
The shock of Neil's voice nearly caused Phoebe to lose her grip on the sheets. She stopped her awkward decent and peered down into the alley. "Neil? Is that you?"
"Yes. Hold on. I'll have you safely down in a minute." He moved into a shaft of moonlight.
Phoebe stared down at him. "What are you doing? How did you know I was here?"
"When I got word Alice had kidnapped you, I came straight here. I had some notion of trying to save you, but it appears you have already taken steps to save yourself. You always were a clever girl. Come on down, my love, but be careful."
Phoebe hesitated. She clung to the bedsheets and tried to read Neil's handsome face. She could see little of his expression in the darkness.
As she dangled there, torn with indecision about what to do next, she heard the door open in the chamber above her.
"Phoebe?" Gabriel's voice was muffled but unmistakable. "Phoebe, are you in here?"
"Gabriel?" she called tentatively.
"Damnation, Phoebe, where are you?"
"It's Wylde," Neil hissed. "Phoebe, I beg of you, my darling, let go of the sheets. He will have you in another minute."
"It's too far to drop," Phoebe protested.
"I'll catch you," Neil promised. He sounded desperate. "Hurry, love. I have information that he means to kill you. I can prove it."
Gabriel leaned out through the open window above Phoebe. His hands clamped around the sill. "Phoebe. Bloody hell, woman, come back here." He took hold of the knotted sheets and started hauling them upward.
"Phoebe, you must trust me," Neil called. "If you let him drag you back through that window, you will be signing your own death warrant." He held up his arms. "Let go. I'll catch you, my love. You'll be safe with me."
Phoebe's arms were straining with effort. Her shoulders ached and her fingers were clenched so tightly in the sheets, they were trembling. She did not know how much longer she could maintain her death grip.
"If you let go of the damn sheet, I swear I shall lock you up for a year," Gabriel vowed.
"Phoebe, save yourself." Neil's arms were lifted upward in a pleading manner. "For the sake of what we once meant to each other, I beg you to trust your loyal Lancelot."
"You are my wife, PPhoebe." Gabriel continued to haul in the sheet. "You will obey me in this. Don't let go of the sheet. "
It was just like her dream, Phoebe realized as she was hoisted inexorably upward. Two men were reaching out for her, both promising safety. She had to choose between them.
But she had already made her choice.
She clung tightly to the sheet until she was less than a foot below the windowsill.
"Hell and damnation, Phoebe, you're going to be the death of me yet." Gabriel reached down, caught hold of her wrists, and dragged her through the window. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I think so."
He dropped her unceremoniously onto the floor and leaned out over the sill. "Goddamn the bastard. He's getting away."
Phoebe picked herself up off the floor and straightened her torn chemise. "Gabriel, how did you find me?"
He spun around, his face very fierce in the moonlight. "Stinton and I have been keeping an eye on this house since we located it earlier today. We saw you being carried in earlier, but we were too far away to stop the villains. We had to bide our time. Come on. We've got to get you out of here."
"I cannot walk out dressed in my chemise." Phoebe crossed her arms protectively over her bosom. "Someone is bound to notice."
Gabriel scowled. "Maybe there's a dress in the wardrobe."
"It's empty."
"We can't stay here. Come on." He grabbed her wrist and opened the door. He glanced up and down the hall. "There's no one about. I think we can make it to the back stairs."
Phoebe clutched at the front of her chemise as she limped quickly after Gabriel. She felt terribly exposed in the fine lawn undergarment. "How did you get in?"
"I came up the back steps, the same way you were brought in. No one saw me."
A roar of masculine laughter sounded from the main staircase at the far end of the hall. A woman giggled.
"Someone's coming," Phoebe said. She glanced over her shoulder. "He'll see us as soon as he reaches the top of the stairs."
"In here." Gabriel turned the knob on the nearest door. Mercifully it opened. He tugged Phoebe into the chamber.
A young woman wearing only a cascade of red hair and a pair of black stockings turned around in surprise. She held a whip upraised in one hand. She had obviously been applying it vigorously to the plump buttocks of the stout man who was tied facedown to the bedposts. The man on the bed was wearing a black blindfold over his eyes.
Gabriel held his fingers up to his lips to indicate silence. The redheaded woman cocked a brow. Her mouth curved in cynical amusement at the sight of Phoebe's shocked expression.
"Don't stop, my little tyrant," the man on the bed pleaded. "We must finish this quickly or all is lost."
The redhead obligingly plied the whip. Phoebe flinched.
"Harder," the man cried. "Harder."
"Of course, my love," the redhead purred. "And are you sorry yet, my dear?"
"Yes, yes, I am sorry."
"I do not believe you are sorry enough." The redhead picked up the pace of the whip, making a fair amount of noise in the process.
The man on the bed groaned in rising ecstasy.
Gabriel tossed several notes down onto the dressing table and indicated the wardrobe. The redhead glanced at the money and nodded. She did not pause in her task. The whip sang and the man groaned in a rousing crescendo of sound as Gabriel quietly opened the wardrobe.
Phoebe forgot all about the bizarre sight she was witnessing when she saw the array of spectacular dresses in the wardrobe. She stared in awe at the brilliantly colored gowns.
"Choose one," Gabriel mouthed silently.
It was an impossible choice. Phoebe loved them all. But with Gabriel standing there looking so impatient, she knew she could not hesitate. She grabbed a brilliant crimson satinet gown and tugged it on over her head.
The groans of the man on the bed grew louder and more impassioned. Gabriel reached into the top of the wardrobe and removed a curly blond wig. He shoved it down on top of Phoebe's head. She found herself gazing up at him through a veil of blond ringlets.
The redhead nodded toward a drawer built into the wardrobe. Gabriel followed her gaze and pulled it open. He picked up a black lace mask and handed it to Phoebe. She donned it quickly.
Gabriel took her hand, nodded his thanks to the hardworking courtesan, and silently opened the door. The man on the bed gave a warbling cry of satisfaction just as Phoebe and Gabriel stepped out into the hall.