What's a Rogue Got To Do With It (Rogues of Redmere Book 4)

by Samantha Holt

  He exhaled heavily and washed his face vigorously, rubbing his hands over the increasing stubble on his jaw. It would have been easier to take the carriage and move on—get this blasted estate business done and return to Cornwall to meet Drake as he returned and plan their next move.

  After drying his face and body, he picked up his clothes and dressed quickly. He dared not leave Louisa alone for long in a place like this. He’d seen her wide eyes and known he could not go. While the inn might be reputable, there was plenty of danger to be found in a large town like this. People would take one look at her and know they could take advantage. As strong as she was on her own territory, it was entirely different here.

  Running fingers through his hair, he donned his jacket, shoved his feet into boots, and followed the narrow corridor to Louisa’s room—just a few doors down. He might have liked to have her next to him for safety’s sake but the division between them at least meant he could not hear her shuffling around through the thin walls.

  He snorted to himself. What a fine job he was doing, of forgetting the whole sorry mess. She’d made it clear it was a mistake. Perhaps she needed comforting. Or something else. Whatever the reason, it would not happen again.

  Louisa opened her door before he could knock. She stumbled back slightly at the sight of him. “Oh.” She smiled. “You startled me.”

  “I came to see if you were ready.”

  “Yes.” She adjusted her straw bonnet, and Knight could not help but stare at the whole effect.

  He was so damned used to her in nothing but a simple gown and an apron. Not even her travelling clothes were quite like this. No, it might not be as fine as something worn by Red’s wife or his sister-in-law, but the careful cut of the gown emphasized her curves, and the tiny dotted pattern on it forced his gaze up and down the length of her. Underneath the bonnet, curls sprung out around her neck. His heart quickened its beat.

  “I know I look ridiculous.” She gave a rueful smile, and her cheeks reddened.

  “You look beautiful.” The statement escaped him swiftly before he could force it back.

  Her gaze shot to his. “Oh.”

  “That is...”

  “Um, thank you.”

  He nodded stiffly, uncertain how to respond. He did not make a habit of complimenting women.

  “I have asked around and there’s only one sawmill. It is on...” She frowned and pressed fingers to her forehead. “Oh, blast, I cannot recall which road the gentleman said.”

  “Colebrook Road?”

  “Yes!” She paused. “How did you know?”

  “I asked around last night.”

  Hands to her hips, she eyed him. “I suppose this is the part where you tell me I am not to go alone. And that is why you have not buttoned your shirt or bothered with a cravat?”

  Knight peered down. The cravat, he was not been worried about. If they were to step foot in some of the rougher parts of town, the last thing he needed was to look like a dandy. However, he had not realized he’d neglected to even button his shirt. He went to do it up, but Louisa stepped closer and reached up to button it for him.

  He snatched her hand midair, and she froze. Her fingers were soft in his, cradled perfectly in his hand. He remembered them on his body, the rough pads of her fingertips contrasting with the softness of her palms as they slid over his back. Her gaze locked onto his and her lips parted. As he stared into those mossy green eyes, her pupils widened. Surely she could not desire him? Surely their night together had been a moment of madness on her behalf? Perhaps it was on his too but borne of a desire for her that had been building for years. There was no chance she felt the same.

  Did she?

  Her throat worked, and he released her hand, swiftly doing up the button at his neck. The only reason he neglected it had been because he was thinking of her as he’d dressed. She certainly did not need to know that.

  “I will be accompanying you, yes,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “You are lucky I do not have the energy to fight you today.” Her lips curved, but he saw uncertainty flicker in her eyes as she rubbed where he’d touched her with the other hand. “I have already asked for the carriage to be made ready, but the driver will drop us off a few roads away.”

  He nodded. The last thing they needed was to drive up in a carriage with the crest of the earl on it. No one would give them any information if they thought them gentry.

  They left the inn and took the carriage through busy streets. The scent of smoke hung in the air and the road was dense with vehicles. Knight imagined it would take less time on foot but it would also mean running into more unsavory characters, especially as Knight could not claim to know his way around Bristol. The driver had been wise enough to ask for directions at the inn and only stopped once more to confirm them.

  “I suppose you might have a carriage of your own after returning to Northumberland.”

  He peered at her and shook his head. “Anything not entailed to the estate will not be mine. Even if there were one, my father’s debts will be great so it shall likely have to be sold off.”

  “Julianna talked a little of home. She said your father was always spending money he did not have and the house was one of luxury.”

  “My father was an arrogant fool. He threw away hundreds of years of toil for the latest fashion. If he was not having the house redecorated, he was lavishing money on clothes or his latest mistress.”

  “Oh.” Louisa grimaced. “Julianna never mentioned mistresses.”

  “She did not know. My father, despite his flaws, was excellent at keeping secrets.” He grunted. “The last time I talked to him, he had purchased a house for his latest mistress.”

  “That is why you left?”

  He shrugged. “Our relationship was never a pleasant one.”

  There was no need to mention the rest of his father’s behavior. Though Louisa would probably understand how Knight had become so good with his fists if he told her. The day Knight left had been the day he’d finally stood up to his father.

  The carriage came to a juddering halt, jolting him from his thoughts. He had already told her too much. His whole relationship with his father and the sorry mess he’d left both Knight and Julianna in was better forgotten. Julianna had moved on and was blissfully happy with Drake and her new life in Cornwall. Hopefully when this was done, he could do the same. There might not be any blissful happiness in his future but he’d settle for returning to Cornwall without the worry his father might one day find him.

  They walked the few streets to the mill. The noise of the saws ground through the air and a perpetual cloud of dust surrounded the buildings.

  Knight led the way into the courtyard through double gates that towered above them. Louisa craned her neck to peer up at the sign that spanned the doorway, and he saw her mouth Barburgh Mill. Sawdust crunched underfoot and logs were stacked taller than Knight up one side of the courtyard. Knight felt the gaze of the workers on them—especially Louisa. Why did the blasted woman have to look so pretty, today of all days?

  He spotted what he suspected was the foreman, a pocket watch in hand and his clothing neat and tidy as he watched over the stacking of logs. The man spotted them and hastened over.

  “This is no place for a lady. Be gone with you.” The man frowned from underneath his cap. Short and slightly wide, he had a thick gray speckled moustache and a generous mouth with teeth stained yellow. From the smell of him, the man indulged in chewing tobacco.

  “I just need some information,” Louisa started, but the man shook his head.

  “Too dangerous here, and I don’t have time for conversations with young ladies. You need to leave.”

  Aware of the gazes still glued to them, Knight kept his senses alert. He stared coldly at the foreman. “The lady only needs to ask a question or two. Give us a few minutes and we shall be on our way.”

  Running his gaze up and down Knight and finally seeming to take stock of him, the man grunted. “Fine, but I d
on’t have much time, mind.” He shoved his pocket watch back into his waistcoat and motioned for them to follow him.

  Louisa hurried along beside Knight while he only needed to lengthen his strides to keep up with the surprisingly fast man. He led them into a cramped, dark office occupied by a generous dark wood desk that was smothered in piles of paper. Two windows looked out onto the courtyard, but they were grimy and let in meagre light.

  The man folded his arms. “Ask your question then.”

  Louisa twined her hands together. “I need to know if a man worked here. My, um, stepson—Ralph Carter.”

  The foreman shook his head. “Never heard of him. Now if that is all...” The man went to leave, but Knight put an arm out in front of him.

  “Are you certain?” Knight pressed.

  The foreman cocked his head. His moustache bristled. “Yes, I’m certain. I’ve worked here nearly ten years, and I know every man who works under me.”

  “He would have worked here quite recently,” Louisa explained.

  “Ma’am, if your stepson worked one of the mills here, it was not this one. Maybe try Dickson’s.”

  Louisa met Knight’s gaze and sighed. “This is the only lumber mill. Maybe I misheard.”

  “Or you are right and he is not Ralph Carter,” Knight suggested.

  She pursed her lips. “But this is not definitive proof.”

  It wasn’t. They still had no idea who this man was if he was not Ralph Carter. “Have you had many men leave recently?”

  The foreman tugged out his watch, snapped it open, and glared at Knight. When Knight folded his arms and stared him down, the man’s shoulders dropped.

  “Very few. Barburgh pays almost the highest wage to workers in Bristol.” The man lifted his chin and a slight proud smile crept across his lips.

  Louisa lifted her head. “Oh, so you would remember any who left recently?”

  The man nodded. “I would think so.”

  “Were any of them tall, clean-shaven? With reddish brown hair?” Louisa asked. “They might have been planning to travel to Cornwall.”

  The man lifted a brow. “I wouldn’t know about clean-shaven but that sounds like Hugh Stanton.”

  Louisa’s eyes lit up. “Can you tell me about him?”

  “He said he had come into some money.” The man shrugged. “I didn’t ask for details. However, his wife is still in Bristol and has been knocking on my gate several times a week asking if Stanton has returned.” The man huffed. “A sorry business is that. He won’t be coming back and she’s six little mouths to feed.” He wagged a finger at Louisa. “If you see him, you can tell him he won’t be getting his job back. I can find plenty of other eager men to work who don’t abandon their wives and children.”

  Louisa nodded. “Do you happen to know where she lives?”

  “Aye, down Broad Street. Another place not suitable for ladies.” He glanced at Knight. “Even if you have a protector. This is a big town, ma’am, and it’s easy for strangers to go missing.”

  If Louisa was scared at all, she did not show it. “Thank you for your help, Mr., um...”

  The foreman ignored her. “I need to be getting back to work. I trust you’ll see yourselves out.”

  Knight stepped aside and let the man past. “He’s fast for a little man,” he muttered.

  “He was not happy about having us here.” Louisa gripped Knight’s arm and grinned. “But at least we have information. This Hugh has to be the man impersonating Ralph, do you not think? Which means he is not my stepson and has no claim on the inn!”

  “Let us go find his wife before we jump to any conclusions.” He paused as he considered the foreman’s warning. “Or perhaps you should return to the inn while I go in search of her.”

  She shook her head vigorously. “Not a chance.”

  He wasn’t surprised, but he had been vaguely hopeful he could deposit Louisa somewhere safe while he continued the investigation. He would not have minded a little time away from her either. She meant nothing by it, but even the small touch to his arm made his skin itch with need.

  “Come on then.” Knight wasn’t going to argue with her. The sooner they found out the truth about this Stanton chap, the better, then they could go their separate ways.

  He led the way out of the mill, staring down anyone who dared look at Louisa. Jaw clenched, he put a hand to the small of her back. She jolted slightly and the feel of her stays made him want to curl his fingers around them and rip them asunder to access the sweet flesh below. But these men needed to know Louisa was not theirs to look at.

  Unfortunately for him, she was not his either.

  Chapter Ten

  Though the foreman’s warning had infiltrated, Louisa had paid little attention to it. Now she understood what he meant about people going missing. The narrow alleys between buildings in this part of Bristol were gray and grim, and even if nothing untoward happened to a person, it would be easy to get lost and never emerge again.

  A film of dirt clung to everything—the walls, the windows, even the ragged clothing hanging from lines strung between the buildings. Children huddled together in doorways, garments hangings from boney bodies while weary parents with a sheen of hopelessness in their eyes stood behind them, their gazes tracking Louisa and Knight’s movements.

  She was no stranger to poverty—it existed in the bigger towns in Cornwall—and she had hardly grown up wealthy. Many a day, she’d been forced to go hungry. But her life had been full of fresh air and the opportunity to escape into the countryside and forget the hunger pangs for a while.

  Knight took her arm and looped it through his. As much as his proximity made her breathless, she was grateful for his protection. Crime had to be rife in this area.

  “This is it—Broad Street.” He nodded at the worn sign nailed to one of the gray stone buildings.

  “We shall have to ask someone if they know Mrs. Stanton.”

  Knight nodded toward a woman sitting on a doorstep, weaving reeds into a basket shape. “I shall—”

  Louisa tugged on his arm to hold him back. “I shall go and ask. You will probably frighten the life out of her.”

  He gave a resigned nod and released her arm. Louisa fished in her pocket for one of the few coins she had on her person and folded it into her palm. “Excuse me?”

  The woman ignored her, dirty face wrinkled in concentration. Louisa revealed the coin and the woman peered up and narrowed her gaze.

  “Do you know where Mrs. Stanton lives?”

  “Aye, just down there. The house on the corner.” The woman waved a hand farther down the alley then thrust the hand out, palm open.

  Louisa placed the coin in her palm, which vanished into the woman’s clutch before Louisa could say thank you. The woman turned her attention back to the basket so Louisa returned to Knight and led him toward the house the woman had motioned to.

  The dwelling barely counted as a house in Louisa’s estimation. Split into two by a set of stairs on the outside leading to another front door, it was narrow, with one window for each story. Louisa knocked on the door, whispering to Knight to stand back. If anyone saw him in their doorway, they would never answer.

  Several faces pressed against the grimy glass and the door squeaked open an inch or so, allowing Louisa to just about view the woman behind it.

  “Mrs. Stanton? My name is Louisa Carter. I’m hoping you can help me—”

  Mrs. Stanton went to push the door shut, but Knight rushed forward and shoved his boot in the gap. “We know where your husband is, Mrs. Stanton.”

  The woman eased open the door and eyed them both. Thin and young—younger than Louisa—Mrs. Stanton’s clothes hung off her body. A child clung to one leg and Louisa heard a baby crying in the background. With stringy red hair hanging in a loose braid around her face, dark circles ringed her eyes and premature flecks of white were already showing in her hair.

  “You have spoken to Hugh?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

  “Ca
n we come in?” Louisa asked.

  Mrs. Stanton ran her gaze up and down Knight.

  “He is harmless, I promise,” Louisa said with a smile.

  “As you will.” Mrs. Stanton stepped back, allowing them access to the cramped room.

  A bed occupied one side of the room and a table with two chairs took up most of the space. Only one candle was lit on a wall sconce, so it took Louisa’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness before she spotted the rest of the children. Two sat on the bed while another two boys were fighting in one corner.

  “Mrs. Stanton—”

  The din of the baby crying and the children fighting prevented her from saying anything further.

  “Fight outside,” she ordered the two boys and scooped up a squalling baby from a crib on the floor, rocking it until it quietened. The two boys scampered out and the noise in the room decreased enough for Louisa to be heard.

  “I met your husband in Cornwall. At least I think he is your husband. He was going by another name,” Louisa explained. “Mrs. Stanton, can you tell me if your husband said anything to you before he left?”

  “Call me Abigail,” she said as she sank onto one of the chairs. “Mrs. Stanton makes me sound old.”

  Louisa sat opposite her while Knight attempted to slink into the shadows by the door, but one of the boys on the bed jumped down and walked over to him, holding up his arms. “Up!” the little boy demanded.

  Abigail gave a weak smile. “George likes to be high up and you are very tall.”

  Knight looked between Louisa, Abigail, and the boy then gave a huff. Reaching down, he picked up the boy with ease and held him at chest height. George wrapped his arms around Knight’s neck, and Louisa had to prevent a smile appearing on her lips at Knight’s startled expression.

  “I don’t know what Hugh is up to,” Abigail admitted. “He’s...he’s been distant lately. Drinking a lot, spending money on whores.” She shrugged. “He always made sure we had food on the table, though. Always.” She jabbed a finger against the table.