These Ruthless Deeds

by Tarun Shanker

  “Then we’ll find them ourselves,” I said, scanning the assortment of gamblers. “You don’t need to blackmail everyone for every little thing.”

  Mr. Kent sighed. “Fine. You know the men we are looking for, I believe,” he said through a pleasant smile he wore. He was becoming quite good at phrasing questions so they didn’t directly force anyone to respond.

  “Yes, Arthur has tremendous hearing abilities and William can see through all kinds of disguises and at a great distance.”

  “I would appreciate a description of their looks,” Mr. Kent finally said, having puzzled over the phrasing on that one.

  “Arthur is very tall with a beard. William is shorter and has a great scar on his face.”

  “They sound like quite the duo,” Mr. Kent said as we squeezed through the crowd. His eyes lit up. “Ah, there, how fortunate.”

  I followed him, wondering how he’d found them so quickly in the dense crowd. But he hadn’t found anything, except for an empty seat at a baccarat table. Mr. Kent nodded to the dealer and sat down.

  “This is definitely not what we were looking for,” I whispered.

  Mr. Kent pulled out a handful of money. “This will be much faster. And more fun.”

  I stared. “Sitting at a table and playing cards will help us find them?”

  “Indeed.”

  I threw my hands up and left him there to have his fun as I walked a circle of the room. Cries at wins and losses rang out, but the entire scene was overwhelmingly cheerful. The clatter of dice on dice and the snap of cards on cards filled the air and I could see how easy it would be to get swept up in a game, betting more than you had in your pockets.

  There was no sign of Arthur or William anywhere on the first floor, so I made my way up a staircase at the back of the room. On the second floor, billiard balls clacked on impact and glasses clinked all around the bar. I asked the bartender about Arthur and William and received a similarly condescending response that he would inform them after their meetings. They were very busy men, after all.

  I made my way to the balcony, looking over the first floor from above. When I was unable to find either of them from the new angle, I searched for Mr. Kent, finding myself slightly more amenable to his blackmail approach.

  But that was not who I spied, sitting with a familiar-looking, well-dressed man in his forties.

  I ducked.

  Not that it made any sense as he was not looking up, but ducking was what I was compelled to do when I saw my father in a gambling hall.

  Blast. Why did every den of iniquity have to be full of people I knew? I cautiously stood back up. Lord Herrington, the man who had looked familiar, was next to my father, speaking into his ear. It felt like ages since I had healed his daughter, Lady Pippa, for the Society.

  I didn’t even realize how angry I was until I felt my palms digging into the balcony railing. How dare my father, who had only just recovered our fortunes, think to gamble away the money? How could he be so irresponsible?

  Lord Herrington slapped my father’s shoulder and laughed heartily. I glared down at them as my father threw more chips onto the table.

  As I considered ordering a drink and throwing it at them, a disgruntled shout came from Mr. Kent’s table. Somehow, he had already accrued a great deal of money since I had left him. And the croupier was whispering something to another man, who left his post in a hurry.

  Oh, for God’s sake. I couldn’t leave him alone for five minutes. I hastened back downstairs, keeping one eye on my father, who wasn’t moving from his table, and squeezed my way to Mr. Kent’s side as I heard him ask his opponent, “Now sir, I don’t want to force you. Only if you wouldn’t mind sharing—what are your cards?”

  “A king and a five,” the man said, red-faced and very frustrated with his slip.

  “How generous of you to say. I will take another card, please,” Mr. Kent said to the croupier.

  He smiled upon receiving his third card and when all the cards were overturned, he was declared the winner again. His winnings doubled.

  I clutched his shoulder and tried my hardest to keep my scolding to a whisper. “Mr. Kent, why are you just blatantly cheating? You’ll get us kicked out and we really mustn’t cause a scene. My father is here.”

  Mr. Kent looked up at me in surprise. “Your fath—”

  “’Allo, sir,” a familiar voice said. “My name’s William Fitch. The owner of this ’ere ’ouse. Might we ’ave a word?”

  Mr. Kent gave me a smug smile. “That’s why.”

  I spun around. “William!” I said. “I’m so sorry about Mr. Kent here. He was trying to get your attention.”

  William’s intimidating expression shifted to surprise, his eyes bulging. “Miss … Wyndham, uh, yes.” It was hard not to feel the slightest bit of pride for surprising a man with extraordinary vision. I nervously looked to Lord Herrington, who stood from my father’s side.

  Mr. Kent rose out of his chair and held out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fitch. My apologies. Your man wouldn’t bring us to you, so this seemed to be the most expedient way to bring you to us. You can return my winnings to that poor fellow.”

  With a slow nod, William signaled to the croupier and then took Mr. Kent’s hand. “I’ll ’ave to set up a better system.”

  “William, my … father is unfortunately here. Terrible timing. Do you think we might talk in private somewhere?”

  He nodded and led us out of the growing crowd toward the stairs. My father still sat at his table and as he threw back his drink, Lord Herrington was ready with another.

  “Miss Wyndham, you have yet to congratulate me on my brilliant plan,” Mr. Kent said.

  “Why don’t you ever tell me these things before you do them?” I whispered back.

  “Because your reaction wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”

  On the second floor, William turned a discreet door handle that blended seamlessly into the club’s wood paneling that surrounded the room. We slipped through, William scanning the room until he seemed satisfied that we had failed to catch anyone’s attention. We were led through a narrow but clean hallway, up another flight of stairs, and out to the roof of the building, where Arthur stood guard.

  “Miss Wyndham.” He greeted me with a bow. “I thought that was your voice down there. I ’ope you are well. My condolences about your sister.”

  “Yes, we were very sorry to ’ear that sad news,” William added.

  I felt a brief moment of awkwardness, remembering that everyone else still thought her dead. As nice as Arthur and William had been to me, I had to simply pretend that was still the case.

  “Thank you,” I said. “She’s … somewhat the reason I’m here. You are part of the Society of Aberrations, yes?”

  “We are,” Arthur said with a nod.

  “Well, I joined because I wanted to help people as Rose would have wanted,” I said. “But…”

  “You don’t believe the Society is ’elping, do you?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not when they are threatening and imprisoning and hurting us when we refuse to follow their orders.”

  Arthur and William looked at each other.

  “We’d started to ’ear rumors…,” Arthur said.

  “But our work is just providing them with information,” William said with disappointment. “We never saw a reason to refuse.”

  “Thought we were ’elping.”

  “I think we can help,” I said. “There are enough of us who want to. It’s just … the head of the Society. I think it’s the Earl of Atherton—”

  “It’s not Lord Atherton,” Mr. Kent interrupted.

  “It might be,” I shot back. “But we don’t have any evidence. We were hoping you might be able to give us something. Anything about the head. Or his bodyguard. No matter how small, it would help.”

  Arthur and William stared at the sky and the rooftop, deep in thought. “Lord Atherton’s as good a guess as any,” Arthur finally said.

  “But
I’m sorry to say we don’t know anything more about the ’ead,” William put in. “No one seems to.”

  “The bodyguard, though,” Arthur said, snapping his fingers, an idea coming to him. “‘Ow about that knives woman?”

  “Who is this knives woman?” Mr. Kent asked.

  “Someone we’d ’ear ’bout e’ry once in a while,” Arthur answered. “There’d be an attack, some poor wretch cut up all over by a woman with knives.”

  “’Cept the knives floated,” William added, wagging his finger at Arthur. “Forgettin’ the most important parts.”

  Mr. Kent’s jaw tightened and I knew he was thinking the same thought. This sounded like the same person that attacked Laura.

  “Anyways, we ’ad a suspicion ’cause the Society always snatches up the dangerous ones,” William said. “But no one knows who this one is. She just runs free ’til the next story.”

  “Do you know anything else about her?” I asked. “Her name? Or her exact power?”

  But William only shrugged, while Arthur shook his head. “If ya give us more time, we’ll try to discover more,” William offered.

  “We don’t have much,” I said ruefully. Not with Mr. Hale impersonating Mr. Redburn. And his and Camille’s worry over Rose. The ball was our only chance.

  William peered closely at me. “You’re not gonna do nothin’ reckless?”

  “No, no,” I lied, grateful that it wasn’t Mr. Kent asking me the question. “But thank you. Please send me a message if you do discover anything. And … please don’t tell Mr. Braddock anything. I’m hoping to keep him uninvolved.”

  Arthur and William both nodded, understanding.

  I stopped at the doorway and turned. “Do you think I might be able to ask that you … escort my father out? And not let him return?”

  The men exchanged a glance and I could feel the burn of embarrassment on my cheeks. However, it wasn’t my fault that Father had decided to do this.

  “O’ course, Miss Wyndham,” Arthur said.

  “Thank you.”

  In silence, Mr. Kent and I made our way back downstairs. Lord Herrington and my father had moved to the same table that Mr. Kent had occupied earlier. We steered ourselves to the other wall and slid outside. I sucked in a huge breath, relieved we made it down the long hall and out the door unnoticed. As we started toward our appointed meeting place with Mr. Hale, Mr. Kent slid his arm around my waist and I gasped as he pulled me against the building.

  “Mr. Kent, what are you doing?” I whispered, not feeling particularly amorous.

  “Why, Miss Wyndham, we never finished our discussion about our … moment in India.”

  “Now is not—”

  “Miss Harding said you read the Agony Column. I’m surprised you did not see my many submissions. ‘Desperately seeking the lips mine once touched’—there were many variations, but that was my favorite.” He sighed longingly and I made to push him back, but he stopped me.

  “Also, you said you wanted to keep Mr. Braddock out of this,” he conceded.

  “What does he have to do with anything?” I snapped defensively.

  Mr. Kent peeked out of our nook. “He was coming down the street. We have successfully avoided him, but for your future knowledge, I’ve heard publicly kissing someone will keep others from even looking in our direct—”

  “I thought that was you,” Sebastian said, his voice dark and harsh.

  I scrambled out of Mr. Kent’s arms. “Oh! Mr. Braddock, hello.”

  The light from the gambling hall spilled over half his face and his great coat flapped menacingly. “Why are you here?” he asked, staring around me at Mr. Kent.

  Mr. Kent laughed uncomfortably. “Why does anyone go to a gambling house?”

  “To gamble,” Sebastian answered.

  “To find information for our plan,” I muttered, Mr. Kent’s power inadvertently affecting me as well.

  “What plan?” Sebastian asked.

  I glared at Mr. Kent. “Nothing, nothing at all.”

  “No one seems to understand what a rhetorical question is these days,” Mr. Kent said to the skies.

  Sebastian looked at me accusingly. “Miss Wyndham, what are you planning?”

  “I don’t recall saying anything about a plan,” I said.

  “You most definitely did.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Braddock, I will clear this up,” Mr. Kent said, turning to me. “Miss Wyndham, did you say anything about a plant?”

  “No,” I replied honestly.

  Sebastian frowned. “You just said plant. With a t.”

  Mr. Kent shook his head. “You must be mistaken. Miss Wyndham, did I say ‘plant with a t’?”

  “No, you didn’t,” I answered.

  “Now, you just deliberately phrased that plant question—” Sebastian cut himself off and closed his eyes in frustration. “I just—Mr. Kent, would you mind giving us a moment?”

  Mr. Kent smiled. “Of course, I’ll give you a great moment. What are you brooding about, Mr. Braddock?”

  “Miss Wyndham obviously came here to speak to Arthur and William and decided not to inform me,” Sebastian answered, glaring at Mr. Kent. But he turned to me and continued. “I thought—after the other night … I don’t know why—”

  “One moment,” Mr. Kent interrupted. “What do you mean, the other night?”

  “When I spoke to Miss Wyndham in her bedroom,” Sebastian answered with a groan.

  “That’s not at all what it sounds like,” I put in hastily.

  Mr. Kent’s jaw hardened. “I fail to see the room for interpretation, unless bed and room are two separate words. Did you move your bed to the drawing room?”

  “No, but it was a conversation that might as well have happened in a drawing room,” I said quickly.

  “Was anyone unclothed?” Mr. Kent said sarcastically, clearly not expecting an affirmative answer.

  However.

  “A bit,” my uncooperative mouth responded and I tried to cover it with a yelp. This was absurd. Both of them were absurd, tonight was absurd, and I was, assuredly, absurd. “Mr. Kent, stop asking questions. Mr. Braddock, there is nothing for you to worry about. Now, let us just part and I will see you both at my wretched b—”

  I snapped my mouth shut.

  Mr. Kent had his head in his palm and Sebastian was looking at me suspiciously.

  He would not have known about the ball at all.

  “Where?”

  “Nowhere,” I said and turned away.

  “What is going on?” Sebastian asked us wildly. “Is it the Society? Did something happen?”

  Mr. Kent had joined me at my side and we ignored him.

  “Why would you keep me from this?” He sounded so utterly betrayed I almost bent. But this was for his sake.

  “I didn’t want to involve you,” I finally said.

  “You already involved me when you came to find me in Italy!” Sebastian said. “But now you insist on leaving me out of everything—”

  “Except her bedroom.”

  “I’m trying to protect you!” I shouted. “I’m trying to make sure your intended stays safe and you don’t have to run away again and you can just live a blasted happy life, for heaven’s sakes!”

  Sebastian stared at me. “My … intended?” His voice was approximately thirteen octaves higher than usual.

  “Yes, your intended,” I said, shooting a glare at a gaping Mr. Kent. “Your betrothed? Fiancée? Bride-to-be?”

  Even in the poor streetlight, I could see Sebastian’s cheeks were pink. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Mae.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I … think there’s some confusion here.”

  “You. Are. Engaged. To. Mae. Lodge.”

  “No … I’m not.”

  “You needn’t worry. She told me months ago.”

  “I’m not worried, I’m—”

  “I can’t believe this,” I said. “I can’t even … comprehend how someone would actually
be unaware of his own engagement. It’s unbelievable. Mr. Kent, can you ask Mr. Braddock if he really had no idea?”

  Mr. Kent had this faraway look in his eyes and I couldn’t begin to figure out what he was thinking. But he regained himself and turned to Sebastian. “Mr. Braddock … Before today, did you ever have any idea that you were engaged to Miss Lodge?”

  “No,” Sebastian said, then frowned at me. “Are you certain that is what she meant?”

  I frowned back. “She talked about your future together. And the understanding you two had. I’m certain.”

  “Oh.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “So, you do remember proposing now?”

  “I … still don’t think I did,” he said, his brow furrowed.

  I dropped my head into my hands. My words came out half muffled. “You don’t think you did? How do you not know if you proposed or not?”

  “I will be sure to let you know when I find out,” he said, giving me one last frustrated look. A glare at Mr. Kent and his footsteps faded away down the empty street.

  An uncomfortable silence reigned for a few long moments. My mind was still blank when the quiet was broken by a crackle in the wall and the clearing of a throat. Mr. Hale stood in the portal, looking very much like Mr. Redburn, given his impatience. “Did you learn anything new?” he asked.

  I didn’t quite know how to respond to that. I felt a strange exhaustion, like I’d somehow used up all my words and had none left.

  Mr. Kent finally answered for both of us. “Yes. I’d say we learned a thing or two.”

  Chapter 19

  THE REST OF a night was a haze. I tried to concentrate on our plan for my ball, sending everyone their instructions and running over the variables as I lay in bed, unable to sleep. But mostly I was planning elaborate revenges upon Sebastian for distracting me so thoroughly. And for being such a nitwit.

  By the time the visiting hours came the following morning I was dressed and more than ready to leave and spend the day with my sister. But before I could call for our carriage, I was informed that I had a guest.