The Rogue's Last Scandal

by Alina K. Field

  In spite of the late hour, the pawn shop below stairs had picked up traffic also, the door slamming and footsteps clomping.

  Dios. She didn’t like this place either. It was as bad as the worst port she’d ever encountered.

  “Don’t worry, my love.” Charley spoke softly from his position near the window, where he was studying the street below and trying to stay out of view.

  “I am not worried,” she lied.

  To make these arrangements so quickly, Lord Shaldon had strange bedfellows indeed. And yet this set of rooms was likely a brilliant choice—reasonably clean, in a neighborhood likely riddled with pickpockets and thieves, and near the docks. It might be all a desperate woman with very little ready cash could afford.

  Charley shifted, and her nerves roused.

  Shouting erupted below on the street, a great din of men cursing and squealing.

  “Good God,” Charley said.

  “What?” She started toward him and Francisca pulled her back.

  “It’s the melee Father promised.”

  “How many men did the Captain bring?” she asked.

  “I can’t tell who is who from here.”

  Lord Shaldon had said they must be prepared for Llewellyn to counter their ruse, either with force or by guile. Apparently, he’d chosen force.

  Charley moved from the window, signaled Juan to stay put, and poked his head into the adjoining room. “He’s skirting the fight with a couple of men.”

  “No woman with him?” Farnsworth asked.

  “No.”

  The backstairs creaked as one of Shaldon’s men carried the message down to the pawn shop.

  Her valise rested on the small table pushed to the side. A narrow tester bed huddled in a shadowed corner, and nearby stood a dressing table. The only privacy the room accorded was a screened alcove for washing and changing.

  Charley took his pistols from the washstand and touched his lips to hers.

  “Your dagger?”

  She pulled it from the sheath and concealed it under her shawl.

  He kissed her again and disappeared behind the screen.

  Insides quivering, she took a deep breath to calm herself. They had talked about what she would say, how she might draw out Llewellyn’s guilt, and how she should use the dagger. She had wanted a pistol, but Charley had said he would carry two and share them if need be, but the room was too small and too crowded for too many firearms.

  And perhaps he was right.

  Heavy steps sounded on the stairs and someone knocked.

  “Who is there?” Juan asked.

  “Open the door, Juan.”

  The voice was Llewellyn’s. Lips trembling, Graciela nodded and Juan slid back the bolt, retreating to stand with her and Francisca.

  Two other men followed the Captain. She recognized one as his first mate.

  She let out a huff that she hoped sounded like relief. “Captain. You came.” Her insides were shaking, and the tear she managed was real enough.

  Charley was here. Farnsworth and Shaldon were in the next room, and other men, also. She was not all alone with this monster.

  But she must play out her part. “I didn’t know what to do. When your note came I…I didn’t know what to do. We…Where is Reina?” She peered around him. “Did you bring her?”

  “She is safe.” He glanced at Juan and Francisca, and jabbed his thumb toward the door. “Out,” he said.

  Tension poured from Juan, and Francisca’s skirts rustled against hers.

  “Out.” It was the voice of command, the one that made stout men of any nationality or language jump.

  Juan flinched and still didn’t move.

  Blood rose in her cheeks, and her lungs tightened. “My servants stay. You did say they could accompany me. And where is my child? Where have you put her? I told you to bring her.”

  “There now, my dear.” Those words flowed like grease off a boiling pig hock. “Do not fret, I’m here now, and your servants must leave. And we’ll see to the child later.”

  She stepped in front of Juan. “You told me they could come. Without their help I would not have been able to leave Shaldon House and find these lodgings. They are family to me. I won’t leave them here. What would they do? Where would they go?”

  “There now. They’ll find other work here.”

  He signaled and his first mate stepped forward. A clattering of boots on the stairs and gruff voices brought the man to a halt.

  The door burst open again and a shove sent Thomas flying into the room. The boy’s dark frown glittered, and he spat out a string of curses in a cant so thick she could barely understand. One of Llewellyn’s men cuffed the boy.

  “’Ere now. I’ll need more blunt if ah’m to be beat on,” Thomas said gamely.

  “Shut up boy.” A woman had entered, waving a pistol, another man behind her.

  “La bruja,” Francisca muttered.

  The witch. She was here. Graciela’s heart raced. Dios. Llewellyn had been setting a trap for her. He was a traitor.

  “What on…” She took in a breath. She didn’t have to pretend this anger. “What on earth is that cow doing here, Captain Llewellyn? I agreed to meet you. Get her out of here.”

  He cast Lady Kingsley a look that said he was as disturbed as Graciela at her appearance, and then he spotted her valise and signaled his man to look through it.

  “What…what are you doing? Stop going through my things. Captain, stop your man, and get that woman out of here. I will speak with you privately once the witch leaves.”

  The lady chuckled. “Leave? Why, we are all leaving at the same time, Grace.”

  “I told you to wait at the inn, Blanche.” He turned back to Graciela. “Say your farewells. Your servants are leaving.”

  “Don’t see a book,” his henchman said.

  “Where is your book?” he asked, all softness gone from his voice.

  “What book?”

  Lady Kingsley went to the discarded traveling case. “Surely you brought your little book.” She set down her pistol and riffled through the contents, pulling out clothing and meager toiletries. “It’s not here.”

  “I left my prayer book at Kingsley House.”

  “Not the prayer book. Kingsley burned that, the fool. And do not play dumb with me.”

  “Your mother’s little book of sonnets.” Llewellyn clipped every quiet word.

  A roaring started in her ears, and the crowded room shrank to just her and Llewellyn and the cow. Her hand twitched with the need to drive the dagger through both of them.

  She blinked back angry tears, and reminded herself, she was after more than revenge. She wanted a confession first.

  “You left it behind at Shaldon House?” he asked.

  “What if I did?”

  His gaze narrowed on her.

  She glared back.

  The room went still and a darkness came over him, the look of a captain ready to bring out the whip. No wonder he’d taken up with Lady Kingsley.

  And she would die before she let the woman beat her again.

  “The book, Grace,” he said.

  “How do you know about that book, Llewellyn?”

  “Your mother told me about it, and I know you took it with you when you left Kingsley House. You treasure it too much to leave it behind when you leave England. I’ll keep it safe for you. The time for games is over.”

  “Indeed. I am also finished with games.” She freed a hand, reaching through the slit in her cloak, and slid out a small volume. “Is this what you want?”

  Llewellyn’s face lit and her jaw ached. She must hold her tongue. She must play this out.

  “Give it to me.” Lady Kingsley reached out a hand.

  “My mother treasured her book. You may get one of these in any book shop.”

  Llewellyn pried the book from her hand, his face grim. “Ah, but this book is the one we want.”

  She let out a breath and watched him page through it, tracing a fingertip along the
bindings.

  A weary smile lit his face. “I’m sorry, Grace, but this one we must have. I shall buy you a new one my dear. I shall buy you a whole collection of Shakespeare.”

  There was kindness in the smile, and something like relief. It almost brought back the man she thought she knew. But the book...Lady Kingsley...Reina…

  She must push him to reveal more, to admit his guilt.

  Lady Kingsley tried to snatch the small volume from him, but he tucked it into a pocket and said, “Later.”

  He reached for Graciela’s hand. “Come then. I’ll take you, and your servants may stay here.”

  She stepped away. “Where is my daughter?” she asked, in the shakiest voice she could conjure.

  “Enough foolishness. I’ve told you she’s safe.”

  “But she is not here.” She gave in to the urge to sob and squeezed out a tear. “I should not have come. This was a terrible mistake.”

  Lady Kingsley laughed. “Why don’t you faint, Grace.”

  Blood pounded in her ear. She still clutched the dagger under her heavy shawl, but Lady Kingsley had picked up her pistol.

  “It’s not a mistake,” Llewellyn said soothingly. His hand stroked her cheek, smearing her tears, sending a shiver of revulsion through her. “You’ll be happy at home. Though we will not go to Veracruz. Perhaps we shall settle in Maracaibo.”

  “No Spanish hole,” Lady Kingsley said. “It must be an English-speaking port.”

  “English speaking ports will have visits from English warships, Blanche,” he said over his shoulder. His eyes bore into her, darkening. “Graciela shall teach you to get along with the Spanish.”

  Graciela shall murder Blanche in her bed, and you also if you dare to come near me.

  She wiped the back of her hand over her cheeks. “Give me my child, and you may go on your way.”

  Lady Kingsley moved closer, hemming Francisca in. A low growl escaped the maid’s throat.

  “Oh, no. You must go with us.”

  “You took her to force me, didn’t you, Llewellyn. And why am I so important? Charley Everly has all my money. Do you expect him to pay a ransom for a wife who has left him?”

  “A ransom? We’re not asking for ransom. You’re insurance, Graciela, for when your fa—”

  “Quiet,” Llewellyn thundered.

  Hope lit in her. “Insurance? Because you fear my father. Because he has friends and allies and contacts in every port in the world. Because he’ll find you and he’ll kill you, both of you.”

  Llewellyn’s gaze flitted over her face, masking whatever emotion he felt.

  “Did you lie to the Crown about his death, Llewellyn?”

  “Oh, tell her,” the witch said. “He may be dead, he may not be dead. We shall need you until he we are sure he is. After that, Grace, well, you are young and pretty and experienced. It is fortunate the Captain likes you because slavery is still legal in some parts of your world. We won’t need a ransom from your husband to raise funds.”

  A shiver went through her. She knew the chilling truth of that. There were men who would buy an unprotected woman, and good luck escaping. “You would sell me, Llewellyn? Your friend’s daughter?”

  His lips rolled into a sneer. “He was no friend to me.”

  Bile rose in her. Her father had asked Llewellyn to check on her mother and her, Llewellyn claimed. Or had he?

  There had been a man, an Englishman, killed by Llewellyn. A man who had supposedly killed her mother.

  The truth swept through her with icy certainty. “You killed my mother, and our friend, and that man, whoever he was.”

  Dios. Mama had received news that made her desperate to leave Tampico, to meet up with Papa. The man was probably Shaldon’s agent, not sent to kill Mama, but to collect the evidence that drove her to Veracruz.

  His eyes slitted, dark and narrow as stilettos.

  She put a hand to her breast and sobbed. “Oh, God. You took my daughter and killed her also.”

  Behind the screen, Charley held his breath. Spill your guts, Llewellyn.

  He’d cut a hole in the ratty dark velvet big enough for his eyes and the barrel of his pistol, if Llewellyn would cooperate and move closer, and if the cow wasn’t waving her own pistol about.

  Best not to rush his fences. He’d come up with this plan, and he’d promised to let Gracie lead the man into an admission of guilt.

  “Stop this, Grace.” The bastard reached for her arm, and she stepped away.

  “No denial? So you are guilty. You murdered my mother because she found out you were a traitor and a thief and she was going to unmask you. You murdered her friend because she was there. And the man there that day? He was not her killer but an agent who you killed. You kept me alive because you thought you would use me as your whore. Admit it.”

  Sweat trickled down Charley’s back. Her voice was strong, but from this angle he could not see her face.

  “What if I did,” Llewellyn said. “You are coming with us, whether you like it or not.”

  Not a straight-out admission, but enough for him. He stood and slipped through the shadows past the screen.

  “I have something else to show you,” Gracie said. “The lamp, Francisca.”

  All eyes followed the maid who moved a lamp to the dark sleeping corner where a small body lay tightly swaddled.

  Llewellyn’s back stiffened.

  Across the room, Thomas spotted Charlie and looked toward the door. Bink had appeared in the doorway, towering over a better-dressed villain, one of Lady Kingsley’s men, probably.

  The henchmen were glued to the scene at the bed, the fools.

  “With my own hands,” Gracie said in a strong voice, “I killed the man you sent to steal my daughter.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, enough of this Spanish drama.” Lady Kingsley’s pistol still tracked Gracie. “The child will just be trouble.” She threw her girth at Francisca, shoving her aside, and grabbed the small bundled body from the bed.

  Francisca grasped at the body and a tugging match ensued, Lady Kingsley’s pistol waving wildly, Gracie ducking out of the way.

  Fighting broke out in the rest of the room, Juan, Thomas and Bink choosing that moment to challenge Llewellyn’s and Lady Kingsley’s men.

  Charley turned on Llewellyn, but spotted Thomas near the window, and one of Llewellyn’s sailors raising a knife at the boy. Charley lunged, ripped his hand back, freeing the blade, and kicking it away. The sailor growled and attacked.

  Charley brought the butt of the pistol down on his head, but the man got up and charged again.

  Thomas swung a chair at him. He parried the blow and turned back on the boy, who retreated to the open window.

  “Duck, Thomas,” Charley yelled. The boy dove and Charley dropped his pistol, hoisted the villain and tossed him through the window. “Grab it.”

  He pulled out his other gun and yelled, “Gracie.”

  “Right here, Charley.”

  Llewellyn had her by the waist, kicking and fighting, but the two women pulling the baby apart blocked his escape from the room.

  Juan had found his way to the far side of the room, and was taking a beating. At the door, Bink parried blows from two men. One landed a solid punch and Thomas raced in, and pow. The pistol shot knocked Thomas back, and the man staggered. Bink righted the boy and knocked the wounded man down the stairs.

  He turned in time to see Gracie break free and go to Francisca’s aid. A sharp crack from Llewellyn sent the maid sailing back into the bedpost where she smacked her head and slid to the floor. Gracie shrieked and dropped with her. Lady Kingsley knocked into Llewellyn, righted herself, and swung the small body against the bedpost.

  The head bounced across the floor, the brown eyes wide and staring.

  Llewellyn clutched Gracie’s hair and pulled her to her feet. “What have you done?”

  She twisted and kicked and flailed. “Would I expose a real child to a monster like you?” Her blade flashed down on his arm and he c
ried out, releasing her.

  Charley jerked Llewellyn back and planted the point of his pistol in the man’s neck.

  “You,” Lady Kingsley glared at him.

  She tossed the doll’s body aside and wove a shaky figure of eight in the air with her gun barrel, stopping at Gracie.

  He held his breath. He hoped he didn’t have to shoot Llewellyn’s head off. It would be an altogether unpleasant experience for Gracie.

  He made himself laugh. “You are quite right, Lady Kingsley. The child will certainly be trouble for you. Your other man gave Lord Shaldon quite an earful about the sea captain and the lady who paid him to steal an earl’s granddaughter.”

  Lady Kingsley’s gaze narrowed.

  “On the other hand, my father is quite a good listener if you have something to share with him. And I imagine you do. Put down your weapon, Lady Kingsley, or your friend here will die.”

  “My friend?” She laughed.

  “Your business partner then. Or is he a lover?”

  She laughed softly. “Yes, well, you can reach into my business partner’s pocket and retrieve the little book stashed there, and then I will be going. I have a boat to catch.”

  “You’ll not get my crew to take you anywhere,” Llewellyn growled.

  “Well, not that boat. I will be long gone before you have your turn at the gallows.”

  “She is going with her cousin, Carvelle,” Graciela said. “He was another partner in your crimes, wasn’t he, Lady Kingsley. Along with your husband.”

  “My husband? That fool? All of our hard-won money, invested in a cargo that your father chose to steal.”

  “Oh dear,” Charley said. “A cargo sent under a Spanish flag. Plunder taken from the people of New Spain. Do lower your pistol, my lady.”

  “Come here, girl.” She beckoned Graciela. “You are my safe passage out.”

  Behind her, Juan and Bink had landed their last punches, and Juan’s dagger was drawn.

  And Father wanted the woman alive. He shook his head, praying Juan would see him.

  “You’re a fool, Blanche,” Charley said. “So sorry to inform you, that boat you’re planning to catch won’t be at the dock in Bermondsey.”

  She glared, and the pistol veered his way.

  Fortunately, Llewellyn was in front of him.