by Laura Landon
“Actually, the idea was my wife’s, although she didn’t for a moment think I took her suggestions seriously. She enjoys playing cards and complains that there aren’t any establishments where women can go to play for an evening, as there are for men. I came up with the plan for a gaming establishment that would cater to both the male and female side of Society. But never, never,” he repeated, “did I imagine these two reprobates had turned my idea into a…a whore house.”
“No, your lordship,” Willard shot out in defense. “You only wanted more and more profits each time you came. Just how did you think we were going to find those profits?” he bellowed.
Cavanaugh turned a malicious glare on Willard. “Not by ruining innocent young girls. And certainly not by kidnapping children off the street, and forcing them into prostitution!”
“Then perhaps you should have been more specific in what you intended for your club. All you cared about was the money. You’re the one who gave us free rein.”
“Enough,” Mack said, stopping the discussion before it turned into a shouting match. “How did you find these two, Lord Cavanaugh?”
“Through an advertisement. I hired these two scoundrels because they came with admirable references, which I’m now sure were forged.”
Mack motioned to the men guarding Willard and Ellsworth. “Take them to your supervisor. He’ll take over from here.”
When Willard and Ellsworth were gone, he looked at Lord Cavanaugh. The marquess had his arm around his daughter and was comforting her. “You can take your daughter home, now, but don’t plan on any sudden trips to the country. The authorities will no doubt want to speak with you.”
Lord Cavanaugh put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and took her from the room. And they were alone.
“I just have one question for you, Lady Winnifred,” the leader of the Bedford Street Brigade said as he stared down on Winnie. “How did you know what we had planned tonight?”
Winnie slowly lifted her chin. Her eye was nearly swollen shut now, and her lip was twice its normal size. Nick reached for her hand and held it.
“I overheard you when you discussed your plan with father,” she said. “While your plan to use Mr. Stillman to expose Lord Cavanaugh had merit, it was far too dangerous for him.”
“Too dangerous?” Mack repeated.
The head of the Bedford Street Brigade turned his gaze on Nick. There was laughter in his eyes.
“I’ll remember that for future assignments, my lady.”
If Winnie hadn’t been so badly hurt, she’d have realized that Mack was making a joke, but that was a minor detail at this point.
“I also doubted the scheme would work. But, I knew using Cavanaugh’s daughter would.”
The expression on Mack’s face turned serious. “Remind me to tell your father what a brave daughter he has,” he said.
“I’ll do that, sir,” she answered. “I’ll need all the good words I can get when Father discovers what I did.”
“That you will,” Lord Benjamin said.
Mack Wallace bowed to Winnie, then left the room. Nick didn’t know which one of them would fire the first question at Winnie. From the look on Lord Benjamin’s face, he couldn’t wait to find out what his sister was doing here. Nick knew what she was doing, he just wanted to know why.
Lord Benjamin was the first to speak. “What possessed you to do something so foolish, Winnie?”
“Why do you think it was foolish, Ben? It served everyone’s purpose. I exposed what was going on at The Dove, and uncovered Lord Cavanaugh as the mysterious owner.”
“And you could have been killed,” he said in a voice loud enough it almost sounded like a shout.
She tried to smile, but she was becoming weaker. She needed to go home. She needed to be cossetted, and pampered, and looked after.
“Not likely,” she said on a sigh. “I knew you’d be here to look after me.”
“Except I didn’t know you were here. Nor did I know you’d be wearing a red wig.”
“A minor detail, Ben.”
Her eyes closed, then opened again.
“We’ve got to get you home, my lady,” Nick said, letting her lay her head on his shoulder. “And while we’re traveling across London, it might be wise for you to decide what you’re going to say to your father.”
Her head lifted, and she sat up straight.
“We’ll tell him the truth,” Ben said. “That Winnie was a hero—and a fool. That she thought she could expose the villains better than Mack Wallace and his brigade of investigators.”
Winnie shook her head. “Do we have to tell him anything?”
Nick raised his eyebrows and looked at her. “What? Another lie? Another made-up fall down the stairs? Another trip to the country?”
Lord Benjamin shot his sister an angry glare. “What’s going on here, Winnie? What’s Nick talking about?”
“Nothing, Ben. Just leave it be.”
Nick couldn’t stand to see her so tortured. He couldn’t watch her suffer alone without anyone to help her. “If you won’t let me help you, Winnie, let your brother. If you won’t tell me what’s going on, at least tell him.”
Winnie shot to her feet. There was anger in her eyes when she glared at him.
She tried to stand, but staggered. Nick caught her before she fell. “We have to get her home,” he said as he swung her into his arms. “She needs to be in bed.”
“Hodgekens should be out in front,” Winnie’s brother said. “Take her home. I’ll find my carriage and follow.”
Nick nodded, then walked out of the room and down the hall.
“I can walk,” she mumbled.
“You couldn’t make it two steps before you fell,” he answered, continuing down the stairs.
She didn’t speak again until they reached the lower level. “Nick?”
“Yes?”
“My chips. I need the money I won.”
If she hadn’t been so sincere he would have laughed. As it was, she was deadly serious.
Nick walked over to the table where she’d been playing and picked her reticule up off the chair. Then he sat her down and scooped up the chips from in front of her.
“Stay here,” he said, then carried the chips to Hugh Baxter, a brigadesman who’d drawn the duty of guarding the money until someone came to take it to the bank.
“Hugh, exchange these chips.”
“I don’t know, Nick.”
“I’ll explain everything to Mack. There won’t be a problem.”
“If you say so,” the brigadesman said with a smile on his face. Then, he counted out the chips and handed Nick the money. There were nearly five hundred pounds. Enough to feed half of England until Christmas.
He handed the money to Winnie and watched her put it in her reticule. Earlier winnings that she’d already cashed in were tucked inside the cloth bag. He couldn’t imagine how much she’d won tonight. He didn’t ask.
He picked her up and carried her to the exit. Hodgekens was waiting for them when they stepped out into the cool night.
“Is the lady all right?” the driver asked when Nick lifted her into the carriage.
“She will be. She had a rough go of it, but it’s over now.”
“I’m glad,” Hodgekens said, stepping up, then taking the reins of the carriage.
Nick settled back against the squabs of the carriage with Winnie in his arms. She was exhausted. She was in pain. She nestled her head against his chest and moaned.
“We’ll be home soon, Winnie. It won’t be long,”
She nodded her head then relaxed against him.
“Why did you do it?” he asked. “Our plan would have exposed Cavanaugh.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But I couldn’t let them hurt you again.”
And Nick knew without a doubt that he loved Winnie more than he thought it was possible to love anyone. “When are you going to let me help you, Winnie? When are you going to tell me why you need all this money?”
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For a long while Winnie was silent. The carriage rumbled over the streets of London as it made its way to the Duke of Townsend’s townhouse. The longer she remained silent, the more convinced Nick was that she wasn’t going to confide in him. The more certain he was that she didn’t trust him enough to let him help her.
Until she spoke.
Winnie lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. Tears filled her eyes and when she blinked, they spilled over her lashes and rushed down her bruised cheeks.
“I need your help, Nick. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
“You’re not alone, sweetheart. I’m here. What’s going on?”
“Someone has found out mother is alive,” she whispered. “I’m…being blackmailed.”
CHAPTER 23
Winnie opened her eyes but she wasn’t brave enough to move. Her head throbbed as if a blacksmith were pounding on an anvil behind her eyes. She took several shallow breaths as she waited until the pounding eased.
Her bedroom was bright with sunlight, which meant it was at least midday, if not later. She wondered how long she’d slept. She wondered how much of what happened after Nick carried her inside she didn’t remember.
She remembered her father’s shocked expression. She remembered Nick carrying her up the stairs and to her room. She remembered the doctor coming, and that was as much as she could recall. She hated to think she might have fainted. She’d never fainted in her life. But she couldn’t think of another reason she didn’t remember anything after Dr. Bentley walked into her room to see her.
When she felt braver, she turned her head slightly. Someone had pulled a cushioned chair close to the bed. She recalled waking once during the night and seeing Nick there. But that must have been a dream. She couldn’t imagine her father allowing him to sit with her all night, except he must have. The image of him sitting there was too vivid. And the thought of him staying with her was comforting. Until she remembered that she’d told him the secret she’d been so careful to keep—that she was being blackmailed.
The panic she experienced would have taken her to her knees if she’d been on her feet. Instead, she clutched at the covers on her bed and wadded the material in her fists. Why had she done something so careless? After what had happened to her at The Dove, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to stand up under one more heavy weight, especially the weight of being blackmailed. But how did she think telling Nick would help? She should have realized once he knew, everything would be worse.
Winnie took in a deep breath and released it on a heavy sigh. Only after lying there a few moments more was she brave enough to look around the room. Her gaze stopped when it collided with Nick standing across the room.
He stood in front of the window, his sun-drenched body an ethereal sight. He wore only black trousers and a white lawn shirt. He’d draped his black jacket and silver waistcoat across the back of the straight-backed chair near the wall. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to mid forearms.
He stood with both arms pressed against the frame of the window, his head rigid as if in thought. His stance pulled the material of his dress shirt tight across his shoulders.
The sight of him standing there took her breath. He was the most beautiful human she’d ever seen. Her heart swelled inside her chest when she thought of what they’d shared. The sight of him stopped time and stole thought. It consumed her as she watched him for as long as she dared.
As if he realized she was awake, he turned and looked at her.
“I almost thought you were going to sleep the day away,” he said, coming toward her.
“I…” Winnie tried to speak more than once before her voice would work. “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly four in the afternoon.”
As if he knew what she wanted, he poured some water into a glass, then lifted her head so she could drink. She winced when the glass touched her sore lips, but the cool water felt good on the cut in her mouth and on her dry throat.
“Drink it slowly. And not too much,” he said, lifting the glass from her mouth.
He lowered her head back to the pillow and sat in the cushioned chair beside her bed. This is where she’d envisioned him in her dream. “Have you been here all day?” she asked.
He nodded, then smiled. “It wasn’t easy to convince your father that I needed to stay.”
“I don’t imagine it was. What did you tell him?”
“That it was imperative that I ask you some questions the moment you regained consciousness.”
“And he believed you?”
His smile broadened and the two creases on either side of his mouth deepened. Winnie lost track of the times she’d wanted to trace her finger against those creases. He suddenly seemed even more handsome than before.
“Probably not,” he answered. “But I think he was so impressed with the length to which I’d go with a lie, that he didn’t have the nerve to tell me to go home.”
Winnie couldn’t help but smile, even though she knew it would smart.
“Winnie, we—”
“Not yet,” she interrupted. “I know what you want to talk about, but I’m not ready.”
“You’re being blackmailed,” he said.
Winnie turned her head to avoid having to face him. There was a tinge of anger in his voice, as well as a deal of concern.
“Just when do you think you will be ready to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know who’s blackmailing you?”
He asked the question as if she hadn’t just said she wasn’t ready to talk yet. She knew he didn’t intend to give up, so she shook her head in the negative.
“How long have you been blackmailed?”
“Weeks. A month. Maybe two.”
“Why didn’t you say something before now?”
She shook her head. “It’s my problem. No one else’s. I regret I told you.”
He was quiet for several long moments. Then, the investigator in him took over and he continued his questions. “This is why you visited The Dove. You needed the money to pay the blackmailer.”
When she didn’t confirm his assumption, he asked another question. “What else do you need money for?”
She hesitated, then answered. “To pay for extra guards to make sure Mother doesn’t escape.” Winnie turned her head until her gaze locked with Nick’s. “She’s getting worse.”
“Worse, as in how?”
“She has to be confined most of the time because she becomes violent. She believes everyone intends to do her harm. She doesn’t trust anyone, especially the people who care for her.”
“When is the last time you saw her?”
“Before we left the country to come to London. I went to see her, to say good bye.”
“What was her reaction to you when she saw you?”
“She became very agitated. She had to be restrained.”
“Did your mother attack you?”
Winnie turned her head. She didn’t want to answer Nick’s question. It would make things seem much worse than they were. It would emphasize how dangerous her mother had become—to everyone.
“Did she hit you?”
Winnie couldn’t answer Nick’s question. She couldn’t tell him how violent she’d become. And yet…
“She blames me for what happened to her. And she has a right. I locked her away.”
“Where is she, Winnie?”
Winnie hesitated, then asked the question that would determine her next step. “What would you do if I told you where she is?”
“That would be up to Mack Wallace and your father.”
She shook her head. That wasn’t a possibility. She knew what her father would do. He’d told her so time and again before she’d made the rash decision to stage her mother’s death: He’d turn her over to the authorities and have her charged for the murder of his first wife, and the attempted murder of his son and heir, the Marquess of Sheffield.
“How do y
ou think this is going to end?” he asked, then waited for her to answer.
She couldn’t. She didn’t know how this would end. She only knew she couldn’t hand her mother over to the authorities until Anne was safely married. And that wouldn’t be for months yet.
“Tell me about the blackmailer. Do you have any idea who it might be? How do they get in touch with you?”
“I don’t know who it could be. And they contact me with written messages. Notes are left at the back door during the night. Cook finds them in the morning when she opens the house.”
“Do you have one of these messages?”
Winnie pointed to the desk. “The last one I received is in the bottom right-hand drawer.”
Nick walked to the desk and opened the drawer. He searched for a moment, then removed the scrap of paper. He brought it back with him, then sat on the chair and read it. “When did you receive this?”
“Two days ago.”
“Did anyone see the person who delivered it?”
Winnie shook her head. “As I said, they arrive during the night.”
“What does the blackmailer mean, Leave one hundred pounds in the usual place? Where’s the usual place?”
“I’ve been instructed to leave the money on King Street, off Drury Lane.”
“Where on King Street?”
“In the alley behind a small bakery—Jewel’s Bakery. There’s a brick in the bakery wall that slides out. I’m to put the money there.”
What does the blackmailer say will happen if you refuse?”
“Mother will make a miraculous return from the dead, and make a shocking appearance at a future ton function.”
“Are you certain that this blackmailer knows where your mother is? Or could they be making idle threats?”
Winnie sighed. “They know. The first message told me where they’d seen Mother. There’s no doubt. They know.”
“When do you have to deliver the money?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“That gives us a little more than a day to decide how to catch our blackmailer.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to call in some favors. I’ll have plenty of brigadesmen to cover my back.”