Into the Hall of Vice

by Anabelle Bryant

  ‘Do not play word games when I have the responsibilities of Parliament to contend.’ His voice sounded weary all of a sudden. Rosalind had wandered farther and he eyed her while he spoke. ‘Father’s friendship with Winton assures me he has your best interest at heart. I need you to cause less interference while I handle the pressures of my newly written legislation.’

  ‘You should visit Charing Cross and see what you hope to obliterate with your bills. People are doing good work there to improve the lives of those less fortunate. Of course, there is squalor and to some extent a population who cares little for a better life, but it is not the entirety who occupies Seven Dials, St Giles and the surrounding areas.’

  Kent’s bark of laugher echoed in the still air, his brows high in a show of bald scepticism. ‘Have you been reading unsuitable material or has someone filled your ear with these lies? Visits to Charing Cross and the neighbouring rookeries would only serve to dirty my carriage wheels. Do you forget yourself? Do you not recall where Father died?’

  His cutting questions brought a sobering silence to their discussion, although Kent continued after an awkward stretch.

  ‘Today will be a purposeful day. I present another forceful address to Parliament in concern of the slums before I prepare the coup de grace, my plans to make an example of the most successful establishment in the area. It will serve to educate the dissuaded members of the Chamber of Peers who linger on the opposite view of my political spectrum. Politics is not for the kind-hearted. Once I close Second Chances it will deflate the hopes of any other fool who believes rehabilitation is possible for these inhabitants.’ His words rang proud as he pierced her with a determined stare.

  ‘Second Chances?’ Her pulse leapt for Miss Devonshire and the kind work perpetuated there. ‘It’s the most accomplished lodging house in Charing Cross.’ She would need to tell Sophie and Vivienne. Someone must warn Miss Devonshire, though she doubted the woman could do much when faced with her brother’s ignorance and power, the combination the worst fashion. If only she could call on Cole to help her, but she didn’t dare.

  ‘Then you understand what lies at stake. I plan to eliminate the strongest first, and the others will topple as they see the futility of their struggle.’

  Her pulse raced and, when she offered no rejoinder, Kent could only have believed he’d silenced her objections.

  ‘Remember your station, Gemma, and do not keep Rosalind in the gardens overlong. She should be upstairs at lessons.’

  Gemma watched him walk away, a plethora of emotions crowding in. Rosalind returned and gently placed a comforting hand atop Gemma’s, but with no doubt in her mind, she knew she must help and would start with a visit to Sophie.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cole approached the Underworld, angry and frustrated, unable to understand the happenings of only hours before. He’d arranged the meeting with Gemma so he could confess his feelings. His plan hadn’t extended beyond that point. He’d never developed deeper emotion for a woman and all of this proved new. They’d shared an intimate night of sensual pleasure unlike any he’d experienced. She was happy. He saw it in her eyes, perceived it in her kisses, but then something changed. Unexpected and drastic, she all of a sudden behaved as though she needed to separate from him as quickly as possible, scrambling from the gig and back to Stratton House with hardly a touch of hand. Her goodbye sounded awkward and he floundered now to understand.

  He did his best to convince anyone willing to listen he had no desire for permanence. Even the brothels he’d visited in his past had been an outward show no woman would find a way into his heart or control his emotions, yet, despite his best efforts, Gemma lived in him now. What could ever become of it? The usual path of a home, marriage, children seemed unrealistic considering his occupation and lifestyle. Though Sin managed.

  A home represented permanence, a sham of belonging to something bigger, and a lie, he told himself on a regular basis. There was no denying he yearned to belong to a family, but he stuffed these thoughts down deep where they belonged, too ugly to be examined closely.

  He unlocked the door and took the stairs to his office. The building silent as it should during the day hours. He would force himself to settle accounts, tally numbers and count his profit, the exercise familiar.

  Still, the lingering image of Gemma’s beauty as she lay on his bed sheets like a mythical fantasy persisted, robbing his concentration and permeating his senses, the memory vivid. He chucked the pen down on his desktop with a curse. Why had she changed? What had he done?

  He grabbed his cap from the hook and took the stairs, anxious for fresh air, the confines of his office all at once suffocating. Perhaps he should visit Maggie. She had a way of reminding him of what was most important and righting his wrongs. Fresh emotion clogged his throat and for a brief moment he was that vulnerable child on the streets of St Giles, confused and frightened, no matter he stood on Bond Street in front of an exclusive gaming hell which served society’s echelon.

  He bent over, hands braced on his knees and gulped air in huge mouthfuls. He hadn’t experienced a reaction like this, a feeling of suppressive confinement no matter he was out in the open, in a very long time. He shook his head hard, cursed, and punched his fist into his palm to stop the haunting memories. Then he straightened and, caught off guard, backed from the unexpected stranger who shared the walkway before him.

  ‘Something wrong, Hewitt?’

  The man who posed the question was a stranger, or was he? On second glance, he may have frequented the hell once or twice. Odd Cole didn’t know the man further, especially as the stranger was easily marked. A jagged scar sliced his cheek from top to bottom to confirm his identity.

  Cole straightened his shoulders and released a cleansing breath. ‘Not at all.’ He chucked his chin in dismissal and climbed the stoop to lock up. He had no business being at the Underworld with his thoughts and emotions in pandemonium. He’d take himself home and keep his misery private.

  ‘Thank you for coming together so quickly.’ Gemma stood before Sophie and Vivienne inside the Manchester Square address. Vivienne sat on an overstuffed chair near the fire, but Sophie, hearing the distress in Gemma’s voice, came to her side in comfort. ‘I’m involved in a difficult situation, as is my brother, and the entire mess could be the end of Second Chances.’

  ‘Second Chances.’ Vivienne’s voice expressed grave concern. ‘The lodging house? I don’t understand.’

  Gemma wrung her hands. ‘If you recall, I mentioned my brother saw little benefit to society by the noble work done by Miss Devonshire. He has blindly led a campaign to rid London of the impoverished and close facilities which meet the needs of the poverty-stricken. Of late he’s proposed stricter restrictions and legislation to Parliament.’ Vivienne needed their help. How else could she combat her brother?

  ‘Oh dear, this is horrible. We must do something.’ Sophie appeared as shocked as Vivienne.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t go to Charing Cross,’ Vivienne blurted out. ‘I’m with child. Max would never forgive me if I put myself in harm’s path at this time and, truly, I wouldn’t want to fall ill or jeopardise…’

  Her explanation was cut short by the congratulatory embraces of Gemma and Sophie. When the lighter news settled, they were left with the matter at hand.

  ‘So much of this is my brother’s fault. Kent will not listen to reason and this facet of his personality seems so unlike the man I knew before Father died. Father was a kind, loving, indulgent man. Kent has become bitter and angry, almost a mask of who he was years ago. If only I could convince him otherwise, but he will not hear me out. I regret his involvement.’

  ‘Regret is as useful as a pulled tooth. Forget regret. We need a plan and we need it fast.’ Sophie tapped her fingertip against her chin. ‘Now who can help us?’

  Cole’s name leapt to Gemma’s tongue, but she knew he would not wish to see her. She’d dismissed him after their evening together, ignor
ed his heartfelt confession, and barely acknowledged him as she left the gig to return to Stratton House. She didn’t want to spend too much time considering his opinion of her now. He must think her the worst person, interested in a dalliance or daring experience at his expense and nothing more.

  ‘If only Crispin was here.’ Sophie sniffled, her eyes watery. ‘He always knew the right thing to do. I miss him so much. I’m sorry for muddying the issue, but at times like these I truly wish I had my brother returned.’

  ‘There’s been no word?’ Gemma asked softly.

  ‘Not one.’ Sophie sniffled again in an effort to regain composure. ‘I may not have Crispin here, but I can imagine his reaction. He would speak directly to Miss Devonshire and warn her. At least she would be able to prepare if Kent sends trouble to Second Chances.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Vivienne stood with conviction. ‘And I can enlist the assistance of the Salvation Saviours. Perhaps they can travel to Second Chances in support of whatever happens.’

  ‘And I will go as well.’ Gemma moved towards the door. ‘I feel obliged as my civil duty and more so since it is Kent causing trouble, but above that I saw the wonderful work Miss Devonshire does for the poor. I can’t allow Kent to cause Second Chances harm and I will fight his intrusion any way possible.’

  ‘You’re not going without me.’ Sophie followed. ‘I’ll have my driver accompany us. The more hands the better; the more muscle too.’

  Cole cast a malevolent glare across his rooms, unable to look at his bed without envisioning the night before, when Gemma had lain in his arms and whispered secrets, words and endearments, their bodies tangled in the aftermath of their intimacy. He knew it was impossible before it started and somehow lulled his better sense into silence, but now, knowing the perfection found with her, the depth of his feelings grew tenfold. Why had she turned her back and walked away without a word? Were her actions caused by regret? Disgust?

  He ran a palm over his face as if he could erase the tormenting thoughts but it proved no use. Heaving a defeated sigh, he settled on the edge of the mattress to remove his boots when a frantic knock struck his front door. He was in no mood for visitors, for anything for that matter, and he chose to ignore the insistent sound. But it would not abate and, with a string of curses that lasted the full flight of stairs, he opened the door to a messenger, a lad who once lived at Second Chances but now improved his way of life.

  ‘I was paid to keep knocking until you answered.’ The lad nodded his head with pride derived from the accomplished mission.

  ‘Well done.’ Patting his pockets, Cole produced a few shillings and sent the messenger on his way. Nothing could be wrong at the Underworld; he’d just left. It must be Gemma. His heart kicked a strong beat. Of course. At last. He inhaled a breath and leaned against the door frame to read the message.

  Come at once. They mean to close Second Chances. I need your help. – Maggie

  Close Second Chances? Pushing aside all other thoughts he returned upstairs to gather what he needed and leave, barely touching each step as he descended and fast into a sprint to Marleybone Livery where he’d retrieve Charlatan.

  The rambling coach didn’t soothe Gemma’s nerves in the least. She wished she’d sent a message to Cole. Perhaps he would have overlooked her rude dismissal and decided to help. It was no secret to her heart that she loved the man. Her foolish attempt to cause less upheaval and pain by walking away before they’d spoken the words had failed miserably. Their bodies communicated far more intuitively than their minds. She had a strong inclination he was aware of her feelings but couldn’t be sure. Now she would never know. She couldn’t blame him if he ignored her altogether.

  How tawdry and poorly done of her, to share precious intimacy and then turn her back. What was wrong with her? In some ways, her inconsiderate nature resembled Kent’s and her stomach roiled. Sophie continued a constant stream of conversation though Gemma did little more than nod occasionally.

  So much had come to pass in the last few weeks; her life seemed beyond her control and the realisation did not sit well. Her emotions were already a mess. There would be no easy way to repair her heart.

  Awareness beckoned the minute they entered the rookeries. The streets and sounds took on an altogether different tone and even safely tucked inside the carriage, the outside had a way of creeping in and reminding life was different here; survival and skullduggery rather than tea parties and ballroom events.

  ‘I think we’ve arrived.’ Sophie slid the curtain aside and with a firm rap to the roof signalled the driver. ‘What is he doing here?’

  The foolish notion of Cole’s presence sent Gemma to the window beside Sophie, but Winton stood on the pavement outside Second Chances and all hope died.

  Sophie frowned with displeasure, echoing Gemma’s sentiments.

  ‘I have no idea, but we shall find out.’

  Out of the coach and at the ready, Gemma and Sophie hurried along in Winton’s wake, the door closing on his entrance a moment before they reached the sidewalk.

  ‘What happened?’ Cole entered Second Chances through the back door. He hadn’t spared the time for bootblack or spectacles. Maggie would never summon him at home unless things were dire indeed. One look at her face and he knew his suspicions correct.

  ‘The pompous prig that visited the other day has threatened to close our doors. He claims he has only to convince the majority body that his politics are correct and he’ll have us all transported, removed and otherwise displaced in the span of a few days. He’s spouting threats of demolition and new construction to rid London of the less fortunate.

  ‘I’ve asked everyone to stay in the rooms abovestairs. I don’t know what will happen and will not risk the safety of people who have sought us in refuge. Heavens, Miranda’s just delivered last week.’ Maggie’s voice cracked. Cole knew Maggie to be strong, but an unexpected threat, one which challenged her life’s work, would cause anyone’s emotions to rise to the surface.

  ‘He’ll not take away everything we’ve built.’ A commotion at the front of the house grabbed their attention before he could offer more reassurance.

  ‘I’ll see what’s happening in front. Don’t let anyone find you unless we know it’s safe. You aren’t Mr Goodworth today and you’ve just as much at stake as I.’ Maggie swished out of the kitchen and Cole cursed. Who would be so cruel as to displace healing children, pregnant mothers and men on their way to sobriety? And why? The homeless population and those equally disparaged would always be a part of London. One couldn’t eradicate an entire class of people, but one could lift them from poverty and improve their lives.

  ‘Well, isn’t this interesting?’ Winton strode into the kitchen. How he had evaded Maggie became an immediate concern. ‘Cole Hewitt. Not who I expected, although you will play nicely into my plans.’

  ‘And what would those be?’ So, this was the dandy Maggie spoke about. Cole may have forgotten his moustache but he always remembered his pistol. Safely tucked inside his boot, he could handle Winton without concern, though he hoped it didn’t come to that. There were children and women in the rooms abovestairs, but the cold dead gleam in Winton’s eyes warned of impending danger.

  ‘I’ve handled Kent and his meddlesome sister up to this point, but for reasons I can’t fathom she’s become infatuated with you, the poor misguided gel. Still, I’ve placed a few bugs in Kent’s ear. If things go awry today and I need to bend Gemma, your presence will come in handy.’

  ‘You son of a bitch.’ Cole’s hands formed fists, his eyes making quick work of leveraging his best advantage. Odds were against him but that wouldn’t stop him.

  ‘You have that reversed. My title is above reproach. You’re the bastard here, although I’ve contributed to the streets as most aristocrats do. It’s our privilege, isn’t it, to offer a little blueblood to dilute the masses?’ He locked the kitchen door behind him and stepped closer. ‘Such a pity Kent insists on poking his nose into business
he shouldn’t. His father was an honest man by all accounts. Why not let the tragedy be forgotten and move on? Too much emotional entailment proves tedious.’

  ‘What do you want, Winton?’ Cole held Winton’s attention, though all the while he wondered what occurred at the front of the house. ‘You have no connection to what happens here at Second Chances. Leave Gemma and her family alone.’

  ‘How valiant and clever. A most unexpected quality from a common bastard. Aren’t street urchins taught to save themselves before others? Your life is a complicated contradiction, which is why you continue to elude me.’ Winton pulled a pistol from his waistband and Cole cursed himself a dozen times for not showing his weapon sooner. He’d unwittingly offered Winton the upper hand, all because he’d worried about Gemma and those abovestairs. A stray bullet through the ceiling could kill a child, not to mention the panic it would spawn.

  Still Winton advanced. ‘I wouldn’t have thought it within you.’

  ‘Killing me solves little and implicates you for murder.’ Not a sound could be heard in the front of the house.

  ‘Killing you is mostly sport. You’ve interrupted my plans and irritated me repeatedly. Murder happens in Charing Cross all the time. Isn’t it fortuitous I passed by and heard your call for distress? Were you set upon by thieves? Caught in an act of violence? Such a shame I arrived at the scene too late while you bled out in the alley out back.’ He laughed, low and menacing, and waggled the gun. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be a hero more than a criminal. But at the moment, I’ve more use for you alive than dead.’

  The simmering anger that had ignited his temper since first receiving Maggie’s message exploded before Cole could think better and he wiped the sneer from Winton’s mouth with a solid punch.

  ‘Fool.’ Winton stumbled, quick to right himself and rub his fast-bruising jaw. ‘As usual you wish to do things the hard way.’ He reversed the pistol so the handle formed a cudgel, striking Cole in the temple as he blocked another advancing blow. Cole fell back, all at once disoriented.