Reckless Rules (Brambridge Novel 4)

by Pearl Darling

  “So. Mr. Standish, we meet again.” Pedro licked at his fingers. The man was not natural. “Not for long however. From what I understand from my father, my dearly beloved late departed father, is that you and Lady Colchester are lovers.”

  If only they had had the chance to get that far. Bill could feel Victoria’s gaze boring into the side of his face. He refused to look at her. He had to get Pedro away from her.

  “Not that I think that that is in any way true. I meant it when I say Lady Colchester is untouched. She has a certain air to her, doesn’t she?” Pedro’s tone was almost conspiratorial. “To think that she could even want to be with a lumbering idiot such as yourself is unthinkable. What do you have to offer to a finely brought up lady such as herself?”

  Victoria made a noise and shook her head at this.

  “If you promise not to bite me, lovely, then I shall take away your gag completely.”

  Bill’s anger rose as Pedro’s hands traced an unnecessary caress on Victoria’s cheek before whipping off the gag. Victoria barely shuddered. She closed her eyes.

  “You are right of course, Pedro,” Victoria opened her lashes and stared at the erstwhile acrobat. “Why would I ever want such an idiot?”

  Pedro giggled happily. “You see, Bill, she never wanted you.”

  Victoria refused to look at him. Bill’s frustration grew. Why wasn’t she defending him? Why did she keep pretending?

  “I mean he wasn’t even very discreet when he was catting around with all of those other women.”

  “I didn’t do anything with them, Victoria,” Bill burst out, his voice hoarse after the deep breathing efforts he had made to remove the chains. “They came to me. They were all unhappy. All we did was talk. I gave them perspective, advice. These women understood that.”

  “That’s not what Celine said,” Victoria said huffily. Pedro rubbed his hands in glee.

  “Celine is a troublemaker with her own problems. She too was having problems with her man. She called it receiving ‘treatment’.”

  “And so you just led me on thinking that the treatment that I was receiving at your hands was the same?” Victoria thrust herself to her feet in her agitation, forgetting her feet were bound. “You, you you, low down dirty smith!” she spat as she toppled to the side.

  It was the opening that Bill needed. Full of rage, he took a deep breath and heaved. The chains round his chest screamed and snapped open in a thousand different places as the metal sheared. He launched himself to his feet and ran headlong at Pedro.

  Pedro’s smile turned to fear, but Bill didn’t give himself time to register. He flung himself at the man, ignoring the long sharp knife that Pedro still held in his hand. He had to protect Victoria.

  Pedro wiggled and squirmed. “Get off me, you oaf. I’ll cut you, I will…”

  Bill ignored Pedro’s flailing arms. With determination, he brought his hands around the man’s shoulders and pulled his arms down to his side and underneath his body.

  And then he began to squeeze.

  What was it that Hades had said? “with baits and deceptions lure your enemy into treacherous terrain and then cut off his lines of communication and avenues of escape. To save himself he might fight both your own forces and the elements of nature.”

  It had all seemed so metaphorical at the time. And yet here he was quite by chance, in a room too small for Pedro to attempt any acrobatics in, cutting off the man’s line of communication and escape quite literally by squeezing the life out of him. He almost wanted to laugh.

  He gazed into Pedro’s eyes as Pedro himself fought both Bill and the element of nature known as an inability to breathe.

  “Do you want me to stop? Brute that I am?” he gasped.

  “Yes,” Pedro said shallowly.

  “No,” Victoria said frantically from the floor. “Don’t stop, Bill, I can’t bear to lose you. Don’t let him have any opportunity to do anything… I love you –“

  “You love me?” Bill relaxed his arms slightly in shock. “After what you just said?”

  “Yes of course I love you—watch out!” Victoria screamed. Pedro had taken advantage of the relaxation in Bill’s arms to thrust upwards with his knife. Bill grunted, taking the full force of the knife to his chest.

  A grin spread across Pedro’s face, which smoothed into a cry of terror as Bill, still weighted by chains, started to topple.

  Pedro crashed to the floor with Bill’s weight on top of him. There was a sickening crunch and then nothing.

  ***

  It was the gentle stroking of his hair that woke him.

  Bill frowned. His bed was hard and lumpy, and objects dug into him at all angles.

  “Oh God, please wake up. Don’t be dead. Just be alive, William Standish, I need you. I’ll... I’ll even let you call me your little cream doughnut.”

  “Is this part of my treatment?” Bill asked, his breath coming out in hard gasps.

  His question was greeted with a sob and as he opened his eyes, a wave of golden hair dropped onto his face. Deep blue eyes drew close to his face, worry circling in their depths. A small hand smoothed at his cheek.

  “Bill?” The small hand patted at his shoulder and pulled ineffectually at his arm. “You’re alive. You’re alive and joking. Oh dear. I think I’m going to cry.”

  “Please don’t,” Bill managed breathlessly. “I can’t resist when women cry.”

  A small drop of salty water landed at the corner of Bill’s cheek. He stuck out a tongue and licked at it. “Victoria, please don’t cry. I love you.”

  The sobs ratcheted up a few notches. Bill tried to turn his face but found it was blocked.

  “Victoria, why is my bed so lumpy?”

  This time the sobbing was interrupted by a hiccup. “You’re not in bed.”

  Bill grinned slightly. “I wish we were.” That did the job. The sobbing decreased to small breaths, and a golden train of hair and blue eyes appeared in his line of eyesight again. This time the blue held more glints of crystal. Bill breathed out in relief. “I can’t seem to move.”

  “I think that is because you are still tangled up in the chains.”

  Bill blinked. The past half an hour came back to him, tottering across the room, crashing into Pedro, the knife to his chest, falling… ”Is he dead?”

  Victoria licked her lips. “I can’t tell. That object that you are lying on… that’s Pedro.”

  Bill gasped. “The list. He gave one of the lists away. I can’t believe that I’ve finally caught up with the blasted man and he’s given a list away.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Victoria said hurriedly. “I’ve heard enough about lists for a lifetime. Please just concentrate on getting up.”

  “But the list—”

  “William Standish! You have been stabbed with a knife and you are lying on a man who may or may not be dead. Shut up and get up.”

  Bill shivered. He loved it when she was angry. He couldn’t resist turning his head a little to see if icicles had formed in the room. It reminded him that he still couldn’t move his head. He would have to get up to do that. With a small moan, he drew his knees up, kicking at Pedro’s legs beneath him. They moved like logs of timber. Taking a deep breath and counting to ten, he jerked himself upwards and, remembering he had broken enough of the chains to move his arms, he floundered, pushing himself up from the floor.

  The room swam slightly, and spots appeared in his eyesight. Victoria guided him to where she had sat, and pushed him down into the chair. Bill was slightly disappointed. The icicles that he had wanted to look for hadn’t formed.

  “Bill, your chest,” Victoria gasped. “The knife!”

  Bill looked down. He hadn’t wanted to think about the knife that Pedro had thrust into him at the last possible second. No man, weak or strong had a defense against knives. He had ignored the nagging pain in his chest till that moment, fearful of what it might mean.

  The long curved knife hung from the chains that still adorned him.
Its blade had broken in two, the sharp end entangled in the mass of individual chain links, the handle hooked to the padlock that remained on his chest. He shook his head from side to side and laughed. And laughed.

  “Bill, Bill are you alright?” A heavy man barreled into the room; he was covered in blood. Bill stopped laughing as Victoria shrunk away. He put out a hand and grabbed her small one in his and drew her closer. He pressed his head into her side.

  “I’m fine, Percy,” he said, taking in a deep breath. In the short silence, Bill marveled. It was the first time he had ever heard Percy lost for words.

  “The men on the floor…” Percy finally managed, staring at the chains around Bill’s chest, the knife and then Victoria.

  “Pablo and Pedro Moreno,” Victoria said crisply. Bill could feel that her hand had crept round the side of his head. With small fingers she pleated the hair at the nape of his neck. It felt good.

  “Where’s the blood from?” Bill asked Percy curiously. Percy shuffled sheepishly and parted his hair to show a gash in his head.

  “Got hit on the head as I came through the door. Big skeletal bloke it was. Followed by an oriental chappie. They legged it out to one of the carriages.”

  Bill banged a fist into his knee and winced. It was too much to ask that they would have caught everyone.

  “Err. Begging your pardon, Bill, but Lords Anglethorpe and Lassiter are outside. Lord Anglethorpe seems a little angry.”

  Bill picked at his chains. His vision still swam slightly. An angry future brother-in-law was all he needed. He pulled the last link off, complete with broken knife, and threw it to the floor. “He can wait,” he said tersely. He wanted to examine Pedro first.

  “I’m not sure I can do that,” Percy said uncertainly. “He outranks me…”

  “Oh don’t be so silly,” Victoria snapped. “I’ll deal with him.” Bill felt her pull away. He felt a little bereft. She turned back to him. “Don’t let the people in the cellar out. They are mine to deal with.”

  All Bill could do was nod. He needn’t have worried about Victoria’s melancholia. Not once had she exhibited any sign of blackness. She gave him a reproving look and marched out of the room through the door that Percy had entered.

  Percy gazed after her. “Cor, what a woman…”

  “I would kindly ask you not to refer to her in that manner, Percy,” Bill muttered. Percy turned to him with up raised eyebrows. “That is your future mistress, and lady of the manor.”

  “But I thought you… I mean all those women.”

  “You mean all those women who went back to their husbands?”

  Percy frowned. “What about the lady with the peacocks?”

  Bill groaned. He was never going to live that one down. “She thought her husband was having an affair when in reality his business was in trouble. I advised her… and in return she dropped me valuable information with regards to the activities of the customs men in Brambridge. Did you never wonder why I always knew when we could sail?”

  “And Celine…?” Percy said incredulously, “How could you resist her charms?”

  “Very easily,” Bill said swallowing.

  “I want to know about Celine too.” Henry stood at the door, Freddie behind him, peering over the shoulder of Victoria. “After all, if you are going to offer for the hand of my sister, then I want to be sure that you aren’t just some Lothario after all of her money.”

  Victoria gasped and pushed at Henry to try and get back through the door.

  Bill stood. “Wait, Victoria, where are you going? I’ve told you about Celine already. I don’t answer to your brother.”

  Victoria threw him a sick look over her shoulder. “Ponsonby Butterworth,” she said in a strangled voice. “There is no money. Oh, what a mess. I won’t let us live another lie.” With a sharp jab to her brother’s stomach which folded him in half, Victoria pushed past and fled out of the room.

  “Not again,” Bill groaned.

  “Seems like you have a pretty fight on your hands.” Freddie gave Henry an arm and pulled him back to his feet. “At least you got Pedro.”

  Bill staggered out of his chair and leant over Pedro’s body, taking in the bruised form. “Good grief,” he said, sitting back on his haunches, brushing away the links of chain that still hung around his chest. “Yes I’ve got Pedro, but once again he’s defeated me. I don’t have the list, do I?”

  CHAPTER 35

  The painting had to come down. Chantelle and Carruthers were right. Victoria had had enough of the hold her husband had had on her. She only had a short time left in the house anyway. She would have to visit Eustacia soon and find out who was the true heir to the estate. So much of it was blood money. It should have all ended with the death of Pablo and Pedro, but in all honesty, the problems just kept coming.

  Victoria gazed with worry at her footmen that stood precariously on the hall table. Carruthers had insisted on helping too. “A little to the right,” she called as they pulled the enormous painting up off its hooks. “It might be easier if you continue to rotate it. It looks like the wire is caught.”

  The footman to the left of the painting heaved upwards as Carruthers jumped off the hall table and caught the top right edge of the painting as it finally tumbled free from its hooks. He grunted under its heavy weight, the gilded frame nearly crashing to the floor.

  “I would say careful,” Victoria said with a small smile. “But I have never liked the painting very much.”

  Carruthers nodded, too breathless to speak as he waited for the footman to step down and help him set the painting upside down on the floor.

  They all jumped as the knocker on the front door crashed down with more than usual force. Rubbing the dust from his hands, Carruthers gave Victoria a look of enquiry. She shook her head.

  The knocker on the door crashed down again, followed by a large splintering sound. “I know you are in there, Victoria,” came an enraged shout. “You can’t just ignore me, I heard your voice.”

  The footman jumped as another splintering sound emanated from outside.

  “Are you sure you don’t just want to let him in, your ladyship?” Carruthers muttered. “You might get rid of him more easily that way.”

  “I heard that!”

  She had to get a thicker door in her next house… wherever that may be. Certainly by the time Bill was done kicking at this door it would need to be replaced. The new owners could do that. Carruthers gave her a pleading look.

  “Oh, let him in.” Victoria threw her hands up in the air and turned to walk into the drawing room.

  She had only just set a foot inside the door before Bill barreled angrily into the hallway followed by a very joyful Brutus and an even more delighted Ponzi.

  “Good gracious,” she barely had time to say, before the big dog thrust himself up on his hind legs and placed his paws on her shoulders. “Brutus get down, Ponzi, tell Brutus to get down, ugh.” Brutus gave Victoria a very wet sandpaper lick and fell to the floor again. “Why is it your dog cannot be controlled?” she asked plaintively, wiping at her face.

  Wordlessly, Bill handed her a handkerchief. Without thanking him, she pressed it to her face. “I am, however, pleased to see him alive,” she muttered. She was indeed, very aware that the big dog had tried to protect her in any way possible, just like his master who, if he hadn’t placed a guard on her house, wouldn’t have been able to rescue her from the despicable Heracles Club.

  “As am I grateful,” she said as peacefully as she could, “for your aid in dealing with my little predicament.”

  Bill snorted, his eyes riveted on her face. “Little predicament? Victoria, you were practically naked in front of a room of people. A room of awful people who incidentally will not discuss anything about yourself and say they will only answer to you in terms of what your wishes are. What did you do to them?”

  Victoria shivered. She didn’t really want to talk about the book of secrets.

  “We’ve found the rest of the girls th
at Pedro abducted and sold,” Bill said in the face of Victoria’s silence. “Freddie was a particularly help. Unfortunately it seems that whilst we managed to get to some of them in time, Pedro may not have been able to resist himself.”

  Victoria clapped her hands to her ears, and pulled them down again. She had to hear what had happened to all of the girls. She had promised them silently a while before that she would do right by them.

  “I’m afraid that Tessa Dunbar was a particular casualty.” Bill continued. “She never made it to the auction. Pedro was unable to change his ways. Her body was found in the Thames just a day ago.” Bill paused. “Pedro had left his own particular mark on her.”

  Victoria shuddered, the memory of Pedro’s hand inside her bodice still vivid. She had had a lucky escape; thank goodness he had not in his own words wanted to ‘spoil the goods’.

  “But I didn’t come here to talk about that. I wanted to talk to you.” To Victoria’s horror, Bill suddenly dropped to one knee.

  “Bill, Bill, are you alright?” she cried, bending over. “What is it? Is it the knife wound? The blow to the head? How is your head?” Victoria could feel herself gabbling. She put out a hand to his shoulder.

  “Oh, for once, do shut up!” Bill groaned. The intake of air in the hallway reminded them both that they still had an audience. Victoria looked round to see Carruthers and the footman staring at them with rounded eyes.

  “Oh good. Witnesses,” Bill said with a smile. “Victoria Anglethorpe Colchester, whoever you are, would you do me the honor of…”

  Victoria held her breath as he stopped. He knew that she would say no. That she couldn’t marry him. Not when she couldn’t offer him what he needed. Why was he asking her again? Why didn’t he just get on with it? She had to look at him, expecting him to be gazing at her. But he wasn’t. His head was turned away, gaze fixated on the upside down picture in the hall.

  “Ponsonby, Ponsonby,” Bill muttered. “Victoria, what is the significance of page thirty-one to you?” he asked in a peculiar voice.

  Victoria blinked. She could feel her face blanching. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said faintly. Page thirty-one was her business.