Anna's Refuge

by Kerryn Reid

  Well, they’d get no pleasure from him. Young men about town had their own gossip mill, as bad as the web of Society women. While Lewis trusted these two more than most, Fuller had a propensity to go off half-cocked—and he was already out for Gideon’s blood.

  Someone swallowed. Another ten seconds they left him in peace.

  “Come on, Aubrey. Let’s have it.” The captain in full officer mode.

  Lewis found his glass and took another swig, coughed again. But it helped. “I can’t tell you.”

  Fuller groaned. “The devil! You can’t leave us hanging. What’s the secret?”

  Lewis shrugged, his hands palm up in a plea for understanding. “It’s not mine to tell.”

  “You think we’re going to run outside and shout the news on the street corner? You’ve said too much to back out now.”

  Lewis shook his head and gulped down some more rye.

  Fuller growled in disgust. “Help me out here, Lindale. Gideon ravished someone, and Lewis knows who. Have you heard any rumors?”

  Lindale shook his head and refilled all the glasses. “With the lady’s honor at stake, he’s doing the right thing. Let it rest.”

  That silenced the captain. There were only two possibilities that would bring Lewis running to London—they’d come round to Anna soon enough if they started guessing. Without confirmation, though, surely they’d keep their mouths shut.

  Fuller sat in the nearest chair and leaned forward eagerly. “At any rate, you’re obviously here to champion her cause. You’ve come to do Gideon some harm?”

  Lewis snorted. “Spoken like a military man.” He got to his feet and stood staring at the fire. Am I a coward or a weakling, not to demand that Gideon shed some blood?

  He faced them. “No. At least, nothing involving a coffin.”

  “Damn it all, Aubrey.” Fuller sounded resigned.

  Lindale broke a long silence. “Well, if Gideon’s nowhere to be found, you won’t get anywhere tonight. I’ve a spare room you can use if you like. Fuller and I are headed to Covent Garden—care to join us?”

  Lewis accepted the room without hesitation. As for the theater…

  “I’ll meet you there if I don’t find Gideon at home.”

  Chapter 31

  At half past eight that evening, the door marked G. Aubrey stood open, a couple of bags outside. Lewis took a deep breath. Sweat prickled on his back and armpits.

  Pausing in the doorway he watched Fredricks, Gideon’s valet, work his way around the room with a taper, lighting the sconces and lamps. The man saw him, twisted his mouth in a sneer very like his master’s, and opened it to speak.

  Gideon himself walked in from the bedchamber. He was coatless, and a wrinkled cravat hung loose from his neck like a priest’s tippet. Lewis knew an impulse to take that length of linen and pull it tight, choke the life out the scum. It might not help Anna, but oh, it would be satisfying.

  Gideon’s face split open in a big grin. A stranger might have seen it as goodwill, but Lewis knew the little smirk at one corner of that grin, the derision in those smiling eyes.

  “Why, if it isn’t Little Lew!” he crooned. “Look, Freddie, my brother’s come to call. Did you welcome him properly?”

  “Just saw ‘im myself, sir,” Fredricks replied, surly. “Something to drink, Mr. Lewis? ”

  “No.” Repressing his revulsion, Lewis stepped into the room. It smelled like Gideon.

  While Fredricks made a clatter with bottle and glassware, Gideon came forward. “Do sit down, little brother. I assumed you were freezing your arse in Backwater Bridge. What brings me the infinite pleasure of your company?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Talk, did you say?” Gideon made a show of cleaning his ears. “Is that you growling?”

  Lewis gritted his teeth. “Where did you go? Bath, perhaps?”

  “As you say. I have friends nearby.” Gideon’s roving gaze focused on Lewis for an instant. “And with Sir John and Jack-be-cuckoo gone up to Yorkshire, I feel it behooves me to keep an eye on Lady Wedbury and sweet Cassandra.” He sampled his brandy before finishing this piece of nonsense in a soothing murmur. “Neighbors, you know.”

  “Mmm,” was all Lewis said, though every word made his hackles rise.

  Gideon drummed his fingers on the table that stood between their chairs. “What do you want, then? I have plans for the evening.”

  Lewis jerked to his feet. “I don’t give a goddamn about your plans. I recently received some staggering news, which brings me to you.”

  That sharp look again, quickly hidden behind a yawn and another sip of brandy. “You intrigue me.”

  Lewis waited while Fredricks brought the luggage in from the corridor and closed the hall door behind him. Picking them up again, he disappeared into the bedchamber.

  “We’ll want privacy for this. Send your man—”

  “Fredricks knows more about my business than I do. But if it will make you happy…” Gideon called over his shoulder, “Little Lew has private matters to discuss, Freddie. Close the door and keep your fat arse out of sight.”

  Fredricks appeared in the doorway, his glare directed indiscriminately at both of them, then did as ordered.

  Lewis took a few steps toward the fire and turned around. He watched his brother, sprawled at ease in his big chair, picking at his teeth, while his own hatred burned inside, like rye poured down his throat and ignited. He didn’t try to hide it.

  “It involves one of your toys.” He spat the word. “An innocent, a babe in the woods. Except that she’s not any longer.” He stood directly in front of his brother and waited until Gideon looked up, stifling another yawn.

  “Lecher that you are,” Lewis continued, “you’ll soon have a babe of your own.”

  “You don’t say.” The smirk was very much in evidence. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

  Lewis jerked forward, planting his hands on the arms of Gideon’s chair. “Bloody hell, is that all you have to say? Does the news have no more effect on you than that?” He pushed himself away and paced, his fingers jabbing through his hair. “Don’t know why I should be surprised. You probably have a dozen of them already. Do you even know?”

  Gideon flipped a hand in dismissal. “I’m interested in what goes in the hole, not what comes out.”

  Lewis wanted to spit in his face and watch it drip from his chin. “You don’t give a damn about the woman, do you? Just what she happens to have between her legs.”

  “Well, I especially enjoy a nice, tight virgin. The way I see it, I’m doing them a favor, introducing them to—er—intimate pleasures. Oh, and it’s nice if she’s pretty. Is this one pretty?”

  Lewis growled in fury. “I wonder if you even remember her. Miss Spain? Fair? A bit shy? Likes poetry?”

  Gideon made a show of thinking about it, a finger to his chin, lips pursed and brow furrowed. “Given name?”

  “Anna.” It came out hard, as if he’d hocked up a rock and spit it in Gideon’s direction.

  It might as well have been a feather for all the reaction it got. “Ah yes. One letter away from the most insipid name in the English language.” He gasped and sat straight, as if he’d had a sudden thought. “Say, Lew, ain’t she the one you were so keen on? You sure the pup ain’t yours?”

  Speechless, Lewis glared.

  “No, I forgot.” Gideon resumed his slouch. “You’re too virtuous to screw a wench, even if she’s panting for it. Else you’re a molly. I wonder if you’re even capable—”

  Lewis found his voice. “A plague on you! The girl’s living in a back slum on some pittance that her parents send her.”

  “So, you want me to give her an allowance? Ain’t my fault her parents are skinflints. Her father’s in trade; guess he knows a bad deal when he sees one.”

  Lewis leaned on the chair arms again, his face six inches from his brother’s. “I want you to marry her.”

  That surprised Gideon, all right. He gaped, at a loss for how to respond. And
then he laughed, patting Lewis’s cheek as one might a sweet but stupid child. “Think I’m the marrying kind, brother? Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Lewis snorted and recoiled from the touch, retreating from the temptation to hit him. “I think you’d make the worst husband imaginable. But if you’re going to play at manhood with any woman you can talk into spreading her legs for you, seems to me you have an obligation to play the game through to its end. Why should she bear all the consequences of your tricks?”

  “Tsk tsk tsk.” Gideon shook his head. “Dear boy, are you sure you’re not merely jealous?”

  “I am not your dear boy.” Lewis forced the words out between clenched teeth. “And I’m not jealous. Do you think every man subscribes to your despicable code of ethics? Believes that women were placed on Earth merely for the enjoyment of coxcombs like you?”

  “If he’s honest with himself, yes.” Gideon wagged his head from side to side, considering. “All right, perhaps one in twenty might be a sanctimonious zero like yourself. I suppose another two or three might not actually believe it, but sure as hell wish they did.”

  “By God, I hope you’re wrong,” Lewis muttered, rubbing a hand across his forehead as he twisted away.

  “I’m not a complete scoundrel, you know. At least I never bruited my exploits around town. No one knows I did any more than flirt with ’em. Cause a little heartache.”

  “No one except the girl herself. Her parents, her whole family. The servants, and all their friends, and the families they work for. Sure puts a damper on her prospects for marriage. Her prospects for happiness. All for the sake of satisfying your prick. Someone should cut it off.”

  Gideon chuckled. “You’re welcome to try. Understand you’re middling good with a sword.”

  “Hard to believe some father or brother hasn’t come after you.”

  “I choose my girls carefully. A couple of fathers have—er—introduced themselves, including Spain. But it ain’t like they’re peers. They’ve got no power. All they can do is make a racket, and that would hurt the girls more than me.”

  Lewis whirled around. “What about the child, Gideon? Do you care a whit that your son will grow up in poverty? Maybe a workhouse, for God’s sake? Have you ever been inside one? There’s no more depressing place in England. Makes my childhood seem idyllic, despite your presence in it.”

  “Such oratory, Little Lew. Such passion. You almost persuade me…”

  Lewis watched him, not daring to hope. His brother’s eyes were averted, studying the swirl of brandy in his glass. But Lewis would bet the spark of mockery shone bright.

  “Anna Spain, eh?” He shook his head, looked up. “Afraid not, dear boy. If I remember correctly, she wasn’t that good. Nice arse, though.” Setting his glass down, he stood. “Now, I really must be off.”

  The room spun away into mist, leaving Lewis and one fork-tongued devil.

  Lewis grabbed the front of his brother’s shirt. He aimed his right fist at that mocking eye, hitting the cheekbone instead. He felt the flesh give way beneath his knuckles, relished the sound, hit him again. Then an ineffectual left to the ribs. It was all he had time for before Gideon roused himself to action.

  His first move was a two-handed shove that sent Lewis stumbling backward. “Pissed you off, did I? About damned time. Take off your coat. Cravat too. Let me see how you shape up now you’re a full-grown milksop.”

  Lewis ripped off the garments in question and focused on his opponent. Go for the eyes again. Or that taunting smirk. Shut the yahoo up!

  He moved in.

  Gideon waited for him, fists at the ready. “When was the last time you tried to take me on, Little Lew?”

  Lewis landed a weak left on his jaw, followed it up with a right to the eye that Gideon blocked. He caught a glimpse of the fist coming his way, managed to swerve so it hit his cheek instead of his nose. He hardly felt it, but he heard it—sounded different when it was his own flesh.

  He moved a step to his right, keeping his brother hemmed in by the furniture behind him.

  “Were you ten? Twelve? Guess you grew some brains after that.”

  Lewis closed the gap with a right that finally hit its mark. Gideon nearly toppled backward into his chair, but he recovered. “Good hit, little brother. Now it’s my turn.”

  Lewis blocked a punch to the side of his jaw, but it had been a feint. The real blow landed at the corner of his mouth.

  “I claim first blood,” Gideon jeered.

  Lewis tasted it, retreated a step.

  “Question is, did you grow a backbone?” Gideon’s voice was still cool, untroubled. “Or a cock?” The worthless swine was enjoying himself, for God’s sake!

  Lewis stepped in with a solid blow to the left cheekbone. He followed with an uppercut that only grazed Gideon’s chin as he reeled from the first hit. The reprobate flailed back with a fist that caught Lewis on the ear. He felt a flash of pain, a tingling, a whooshing sound.

  He grabbed Gideon in a one-armed hug and punched at his ribs, too close to do much damage.

  Gideon grasped him by the throat and pushed him to arm’s length. “Did that hurt, brother? Try this one.” The other arm coiled to strike. It came in slowly, giving Lewis time to twist away. It brushed his temple.

  He kept his distance, concentrating on defense. Blood ran warm down his neck. And Gideon was still talking, the bloody stinkard.

  “I’ll wager her tail ain’t so pretty anymore. But you wouldn’t know, would you?”

  Lewis managed to deflect a shot, got in another hit to his brother’s cheekbone. The skin split, blood oozing out and down. Revenge for one of a thousand abuses. It felt good.

  Gideon snarled, lips drawn back like a feral dog. “If you do have a cock, show it to her. After she’s done laughing, maybe she’ll show you where to put it. I hear women will fuck anything when they’re breeding.” Finally, he was breathing hard.

  Lewis hit him in that ugly mouth and managed to duck the return shot.

  “Maybe the whore will let you father her second brat. We can give her a whole brood of little Aubrey bastards. Maybe Papa would like a turn.”

  Lewis’s next shot was blocked. Gideon gave him a punch in the gut that doubled him over. To avoid worse, he charged forward, his head hitting just below Gideon’s ribs. He held on for dear life as they went down together, knocking over a table. Lewis landed on top, drove a knee into Gideon’s crotch, and went for the mouth again.

  “Shut up, you scum.”

  One more punch and Gideon let out a howl, spat blood. He shoved himself up to his knees, tossing Lewis to the floor. Gasping for breath, they groped and flailed, an ugly mess with no science to it at all. Blood all over, impossible to tell how much was whose.

  In the end Gideon’s weight won the day, forcing Lewis down on his back. Something underneath him dug into his spine. A perfect punch landed square in his eye with a splat.

  It was the end of the fight, for him. He wrapped his arms around his head, no thought but to minimize the damage and hope his spine didn’t crack.

  Blows landed on his ribs but he hardly felt them. Finally, blessedly, Gideon got off, grunting and cursing. Lewis rolled onto his side, curled into a ball as Gideon put in a few kicks.

  “Get up, runt. And get out.”

  When he didn’t immediately comply, Gideon yanked on his arm. Nearly wrenched from its socket, the pain in his shoulder made him gasp. He got his feet under him and Gideon hauled him to the door.

  Once the door was open, Gideon gave him a shove that knocked him to the floor again. A moment later, he lay ignominiously beneath a heap of his own clothing.

  His brother stood above him, glaring from the eye that was not swollen shut. He was bleeding from his mouth—it looked like a tooth was missing. No smirk, no mockery, but an expression Lewis had never seen. A dull gleam that might possibly be grudging respect. That counted as victory.

  Gideon reached into his pocket, pulled out a coin purse, opened it, and dumped the
contents on top of the heap. “There’s something for your slut, you bloody do-good loser.”

  The door slammed, reverberating through Lewis’s head before everything went blessedly silent.

  Lewis would gladly have spent the night there in Gideon’s hallway. Every inch of him throbbed. The idea of moving filled him with dismay.

  But an older gentleman walked by on his way to the stairs and gave him a little kick on the shin. “Get out, or I’ll have you thrown out.” His voice seemed to come from far away.

  Lewis blinked to clear his vision. It didn’t help much. He tried to say, “Yes, sir,” but his mouth hurt and his jaw felt swollen. The simple words wouldn’t come out.

  “Do you need assistance? I’ll get Mr. Aubrey to come out and give you a hand.”

  “No!” Rolling to one side, Lewis pushed himself to his hands and knees. There was blood on his hands. A cut on one knuckle still oozed, probably from Gideon’s tooth. “I can manage, sir.” Using the wall, grunting from the pain shooting through his ribs and back, he got himself upright.

  “You’ve left blood on the wall.”

  Lewis squinted at it. “Put it on Aubrey’s…cleaning bill.”

  Unfortunately, his things were still on the floor. He eyed them hopelessly but went for a show of strength. “I’ll do fine now, sir. Don’t want…to hold you up.”

  The man eyed him skeptically. He bent and picked up Lewis’s coat. “Here, let me help you.”

  Gingerly, Lewis moved his shoulder. It hurt like the devil. He took a deep breath. That hurt too. “Just the greatcoat, please.”

  By the time he got it around his shoulders, the man had retrieved his hat and gloves. Lewis crammed the hat on his head, the gloves in a pocket, and surveyed the coins scattered across the wood floor. He certainly wasn’t leaving them behind—they marked another small victory. Bending stiffly, the two of them collected all they could find. Though his eye ached, it seemed to be working for its ordained purpose. He might be half deaf; at least he wasn’t half blind as well.

  Piled in one shaking hand, it looked like more money than he would have thought. But counting it would have to wait.