by Adele Clee
The comment drew a weak chuckle from her lips. “Like everything else, I am confident you will excel in this matter, too.” Ava’s gaze moved past the viscount’s shoulder to the hulking figure standing behind.
Noting her interest, Lord Valentine said, “Allow me to present Mr Drake. We will concern ourselves with more in-depth introductions once I have spoken to Mr Maguire.” He glanced at Twitchett. “Am I right in thinking you are in Miss Kendall’s employ?”
Twitchett bowed. “Indeed, my lord. As well as butler, I fulfil many roles in the Kendall household. Know that I will assist you in any way I can.”
Lord Valentine gave a curt nod and then turned his attention back to Ava. “I suppose it is too much to ask that your butler might escort you home.”
“Home? I cannot abandon my brother in his time of need.”
Valentine sighed. “Then there is little point insisting. You’re to stand with Mr Drake while I make the negotiations.” He craned his neck and looked at a point beyond her shoulder. “Do you know where the lout took your brother?”
Ava gestured to the door to the left of the arena. “They went through there.”
“Then follow me.” Lord Valentine sidled slowly past, his body brushing against her as he manoeuvred through the cramped space.
For a heartbeat, he paused. A look passed between them that spoke of various emotions—respect, compassion, a tenderness that went beyond anything she had ever known.
Ava gulped as she resisted the urge to touch him.
When he continued through the crowd, she followed. Mr Drake slipped in behind, his menacing countenance acting as a shield. Together, they made their way to the wooden door with the opaque window. Lord Valentine turned the brass knob and seemed surprised to find the door unlocked.
The dingy corridor led to another door, one far sturdier. Raised voices echoed. The thud of a fist hitting hollow wood gave them pause. The scrape of a chair on the boards reached Ava’s ears, too. A dog growled. A man whimpered.
They crept to a halt outside the door.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered, touching the back of Valentine’s coat.
“The only thing I can do. I shall knock and pray someone answers.”
“Please be careful.” Those three words carried the weight of her affection.
The corners of his mouth curled into a weak smile. “Should anything untoward happen, Drake will hurl you over his shoulder and bolt to the exit.” He glanced at his friend. “Is that understood?”
“Indeed,” Mr Drake replied.
Ava was in no mind to argue, and so she nodded in agreement.
Sucking in a deep breath, Valentine rapped twice on the door. The sound was met with silence. He knocked once again, harder this time. The clump of heavy footsteps preceded the sudden jerk of the door opening. The burly fellow who had grabbed hold of Jonathan and dragged him from the arena held it ajar to block their view.
“Lord Valentine to see Mr Maguire,” the viscount said with an air of confidence expected from a man of his station. “And I do not have an appointment.”
The man whose face bore a striking likeness to the dog in the arena—flat and ugly with a squashed nose—narrowed his gaze. “Mr Maguire is busy.”
“Yes, busy throttling the life out of my brother.” The comment burst from Ava’s lips, but it was too late to reclaim it.
Lord Valentine firmed his jaw but did not say a word about her sudden outburst. “I’m certain a man of Maguire’s prominence does not permit the hired help to make his decisions.”
“I speak on behalf of Mr Maguire.”
“Speaking on your master’s behalf is vastly different from speaking for him. Will you not allow Maguire to decide for himself?”
“Show them in, Milligan.” The stern voice sliced through the air from the room beyond.
Milligan’s top lip twitched. He looked ready to bite as he stepped back and opened the door fully.
They entered with some caution.
It was a small room, painted entirely in moss green smudged with soot from the open fire. A strange scoreboard filled the far wall—slate boards with lists of numbers and names, brass dials and sliders used to track bets and odds. The place smelt of wet dogs and stale sweat. A thin man with spectacles and wiry copper hair sat behind a battered oak desk. Jonathan sat hunched in the chair opposite. He looked at Ava, and his cheeks flamed red with shame.
“Mr Maguire?” Lord Valentine asked.
“Connor Maguire,” the scrawny man replied in a cockney accent tinged with a Southern Irish intonation. He did not stand but twirled the handle of a small pocket knife around his bony fingers as he spoke. Not once did the blade cut or mark his skin. “Martin is in the arena with that savage beast he calls a pet.”
“You speak of the monkey?” Lord Valentine said.
Mr Maguire nodded. “If you’ve bet on the dog, then you’ll leave with an empty purse.”
“Thankfully, I am not a gambling man.”
Mr Maguire studied the viscount for a moment before his sharp gaze moved to Mr Drake. Ava defied any man not to shiver when looking into those black eyes, but clearly, Mr Maguire had seen enough brutality to remain indifferent. One sweeping glance at Ava’s attire brought a smirk to his lips.
“If you’ve come to save Kendall here,” Mr Maguire began, “then you’ll need more than a pouch filled with sovereigns.”
A brief silence ensued before Lord Valentine asked, “How much would it take to clear Mr Kendall’s debts and render the matter closed?”
Jonathan squirmed in his chair. “I do not need you to act as—”
“Oh, do be quiet.” Ava bristled to Lord Valentine’s defence. She was tired of listening to the nonsense that came out of her brother’s mouth. “Can you not see that people are trying to help you?”
“I do not need his help,” Jonathan countered.
“I beg to differ. You should be grateful such an honourable gentleman is willing to take the time and trouble to act on your behalf.”
“Valentine is acting on your behalf, not mine. Any fool can see that.”
Ava supposed there was some truth to the comment. She couldn’t look at Lord Valentine for fear of blushing, but oddly she noted Mr Drake’s mouth widening into a satisfied grin.
Mr Maguire threw the blade in the air. He caught it by the handle and stabbed the point into the desk with enough force to penetrate a man’s chest. The candle flickered in the lamp casting eerie shadows over his skeletal features.
Everyone froze.
“Then you’ve got the money to pay me, Kendall,” Mr Maguire said in a tone filled with menace and mockery. “Why didn’t you say so? I’d not have had Milligan drag you away from the entertainment.”
Entertainment? The sport was merciless and barbaric.
“Well, I do not have the money at the moment.” Jonathan’s meek voice grated. “But perhaps my luck might change tonight.”
“You championed the monkey to win?” Lord Valentine sounded hopeful.
Jonathan cast the viscount a sidelong glance. “Don’t tell me you bet on the dog.”
“As I said, I am not a gambling man. One has a responsibility when one inherits.”
Ava would wager the lord had never made a foolish decision in his life. What was it that made the two men so vastly different? Jonathan had been afforded a childhood filled with love and excitement and adventure. But what about the viscount? While love for his mother radiated from him like a blazing beacon, neither he nor Honora ever mentioned his father.
“You have the advantage,” Jonathan sniped. “You were born a gentleman. Some of us have to earn our place.”
Lord Valentine snorted. “And you think by causing your sister distress that makes you an honourable man? With that mentality, you will never rise to the ranks.”
“Enough!” Connor Maguire cried.
The black dog—who looked more terrifying than the one in the fighting ring—sat up from his fireside basket and ba
rked.
Ava’s blood ran cold. Her heart skipped two beats. The animal looked ready to attack and rip the jugular out of anyone who stood in its way.
“This ain’t some fancy gentleman’s club,” Mr Maguire continued. “You can squabble like children in your own time.”
A tense silence ensued before Lord Valentine repeated his earlier question. “How much to settle Mr Kendall’s account?”
Mr Maguire’s top lip curled in amusement. “Kendall here is two days late with his payment and owes twelve hundred.”
“Pounds?” Twitchett’s eyes widened in shock.
“We ain’t talking brass buttons,” Mr Maguire retorted.
“Twelve hundred pounds,” Valentine muttered.
“Thirteen if he fails to pay by the stroke of midnight.”
Valentine rubbed his hand over his chin and then said, “Will you accept a note from me?” Slowly, and showing Maguire every exaggerated move, Valentine reached into his coat, removed a calling card and placed it on the desk.
Mr Maguire yanked the knife from the desk and used the tip of the blade to drag the card closer. He scanned the script and after a moment nodded. “I’ll take your note, but the interest remains until the full debt is paid.”
“And the rate?”
“Ten per cent of the original debt charged daily.”
“Bloody hell,” Mr Drake whispered. He glanced at Ava and inclined his head by way of an apology for his coarse language.
“You will have full payment tomorrow.” Valentine cast Jonathan a look as deadly as any swipe with a blade. “All thirteen hundred pounds.”
With the growling dog watching them, Ava moved cautiously to Valentine’s side. “I cannot let you pay my brother’s debts. If I thought he might change, then I would find a way to repay you, but sadly I fear you will be as good as throwing your money on the bonfire.”
Valentine’s blue gaze softened as he searched her face. She saw compassion there, and something else, something that made her stomach grow hot, that made her heart leap about in her chest.
“I know the strength it took to ask for my help.” He spoke in an intimate tone as if they were the only people in the room. “Your brother speaks the truth. I do not give a damn about him.”
Valentine added nothing further. He did not need to.
He turned his attention to Connor Maguire. “Failure to make the payment will result in Mr Kendall losing the use of a limb. Am I correct?”
Mr Maguire nodded. “The place is old, the floors uneven. Many a gentleman has tripped on his way out and broken an arm.”
A desperate whimper escaped Jonathan’s lips.
“Brute,” Ava whispered but hoped Maguire heard.
He did.
The rogue chuckled as his beady gaze raked over her, though the sound in no way expressed amusement. With a firm grip of the knife, he pointed it at Jonathan. “Maybe I’ll cut off a finger tonight. If your friend here doesn’t pay tomorrow, it will be an ear and then a limb.”
Devlin Drake craned his neck and cracked his knuckles. Anger radiated. He looked ready to unleash the devil’s wrath.
Mr Maguire narrowed his gaze. “Ah, you want to fight. The lady and the old man might disagree.” He looked briefly at Ava. “Such a pretty face. Such a shame to leave an ugly scar.”
A growl resonated in the back of Lord Valentine’s throat. Those perfect blue eyes turned almost steely silver. Never had a man looked so terrifying and so irresistible at the same time.
Valentine stepped forward and straightened to his full height. “I swear if you harm a hair on her head I will raze this place to rubble and see you buried beneath it.”
A deep adoration burst to life in Ava’s chest, pushing panic aside. It flowed through her body until every part thrummed with need for this man. The emotion may have overwhelmed her, had the other Maguire brother not entered the room with Raja in tow.
The dog snarled and snapped in his basket.
Connor Maguire jumped up from his seat and brandished his knife.
Martin Maguire took one look at the threatening scene and sent Raja to attack Lord Valentine. The monkey flew across the room with lightning speed, bounced up onto the desk and lunged at the shocked lord, knocking off his top hat.
A tirade of violent curses left Mr Drake’s mouth.
Valentine was forced to swipe the monkey to the floor, but the creature proved relentless.
“Get that thing off him,” Ava yelled.
Twitchett removed his hat and batted Raja away while Mr Drake tried to catch the primate by the back of its red velvet collar.
The dog barked, and Connor Maguire sent the vicious animal racing over to nip and snap.
Ava had no choice but to act.
Pulling her trusty pistol from the inside pocket of her coat, she cocked the small weapon and aimed at Connor Maguire. “Get that monkey off Lord Valentine before I shoot. And let me tell you I have already fought one duel this week and have no qualms pulling the trigger.”
It took the Maguire brothers all of two seconds to command their savage pets to heel.
“You,” she said, pointing at Martin Maguire. “Take these animals and wait outside.”
A tense silence ensued.
“Leave, Martin,” Connor instructed, “and take Raja and Caesar with you.”
Ava waited for them to vacate the room.
“Now,” she said, catching her breath. Her legs were shaking, but she had to at least attempt to look composed. “I think we can all agree that was unnecessary. Let us go back to the moment before you foolishly threatened me.”
Connor Maguire stared down his pointed nose. “Let me tell you, anyone who pulls a pistol on a Maguire rarely lives to make the same mistake.”
“Then I may as well shoot you.” Ava firmed her jaw to stop her teeth chattering. “That way I only have one brother to contend with.”
She glanced at Valentine. All colour had drained from his face. Blood trickled from a scratch on his cheek. For the first time since making his acquaintance, she saw fear flash in his eyes.
The scoundrel raised his hands and grinned. “I said rarely. Seems I can’t punish a lady for my own mistake.” He turned to his crony. “Since when did we stop searching the patrons?”
Milligan hung his head.
Ava got the distinct impression that, at some point later in the evening, the man would feel more than the sharp edge of his master’s tongue.
“We were at the point where you accepted Lord Valentine’s offer,” she said. “Let me tell you that there is no man more trustworthy.” Ava realised that she had to show Maguire respect if they hoped to escape without being assaulted by the monkey. “I have a ring on my finger that you may keep as a sign of my respect and good faith.”
“No!” Valentine interjected. He delved into his waistcoat pocket, then unfastened the chain and placed his watch on the desk. “Take this instead. It is yours to keep, a token of my word as a gentleman.”
“No!” It was Ava’s turn to protest. “I cannot let you do that.”
“I already have.” There was a hardness to his tone that told her not to oppose him. Somehow, she would find a way to repay him.
Mr Maguire stabbed his knife back into the desk. He picked up the watch and examined the gold casing. “I’ll accept the watch as a token of respect. And I’ll expect thirteen hundred pounds on my desk come tomorrow afternoon.”
“Agreed.” With eyes brimming with contempt, Valentine cast Jonathan a sidelong glance before saying, “I want your word that Mr Kendall will not be permitted to gamble here again.”
Mr Maguire grinned. “I can’t be held responsible for another man’s weaknesses. But if Milligan here should see him in the Pit, he will boot his backside all the way back to Mayfair.”
Jonathan dragged his hand down his face but did not protest.
Connor Maguire stood and called for his brother to enter.
Martin Maguire came marching into the room. He held Raja in his ar
ms as if the primate were a child in need of coddling. Caesar growled and bounded over to its master.
Connor Maguire raised his hand to quieten the animal. “Milligan will show you all out. In future, keep the lady on a leash.”
Ava might have protested, but she knew to bite her tongue.
They sidled past the monkey, taking care not to startle the creature, and were shown out through the arena where men were wagering on the next bout. Milligan waited until they had exited onto Duck Lane and then he slammed the wooden doors behind them.
Ava placed her pistol back in her coat pocket and exhaled deeply to release the tense breath she’d been holding for hours.
“My carriage is waiting on Orchard Street.” Valentine’s voice was thick with barely contained anger.
“I shall walk,” Jonathan said, no doubt wishing to avoid another lecture.
“Like hell you will.” Lord Valentine gritted his teeth. “I’ll not rest until I have seen you to your damn door.”
Ava blinked in shock at his sudden outburst.
Anger no longer radiated from Mr Drake’s countenance. Indeed, he seemed to find the current situation somewhat amusing.
Lord Valentine cupped Ava’s elbow and propelled her forward. Mr Drake shadowed her brother, and they all marched to the end of Duck Lane.
“Thank you,” Ava whispered in the hope it might help to lighten the lord’s mood. “I shall visit the bank in the morning and withdraw the necessary funds.”
“I shall pay the debt, Miss Kendall.” He did not look at her but kept his gaze focused on the carriage parked a little further along Orchard Street. “I gave my word as a gentleman.”
Now was not the time to argue. She would wait until Valentine’s mood settled.
“The watch—was it very valuable?” she asked as she jogged to keep up with his long strides. She wondered if losing the watch was the cause of his discontent.
“The watch belonged to my father, given to me on the day he died.”
Oh, heavens! No wonder he was so angry.
Ava came to an abrupt halt, forcing him to stop, too. “Then we must go back. I cannot let you give away something so valuable.” It hurt her heart to think of him parted from such a prized possession.
Lord Valentine’s eyes flashed icy blue. “I don’t give a damn about the watch. But you, my dear Miss Kendall, will stop this nonsense once and for all. You, Miss Kendall, will explain what the hell you think you were doing dressed in gentlemen’s clothes whilst visiting the Westminster Pit.”