Earl of Shefford: Noble Hearts Series: Book Three (Wicked Earls Book 28)

by St. Claire, Anna

  A loud knock sounded downstairs. “That sounds like the front door. It could mean that Lord Shefford is back,” Nora said, taking note of her own wistful tone. Colin had not promised to return that day. He said he would return as soon as possible. An empty feeling hit the pit of her stomach. She missed him and wished they could have touched once more or had one more kiss before he departed.

  “I agree. When he returns, I would like to know more about the message. Perhaps he knows more,” her grandmother returned.

  They had reached as far as the parlor when Mrs. Simpkins opened the door for Dr. Perth.

  “Thank goodness ye are come. The man seems fevered,” she exclaimed, quickly ushering him along the hall towards the kitchen.

  The doctor stopped at the parlor door and bowed.

  “Good day, Lady Whitton. This must be your niece, Miss Mason. It is nice to meet you both. Miss Mason, I will inform you of anything I find.”

  “He seems to be a nice young gentleman,” her grandmother observed as he walked on down the hall. “The ladies of the ton find him quite handsome. Even without a title, many ladies have singled him out as a prospective spouse.” She inhaled, primly.

  “I should keep him from Mary’s sights,” Nora responded with a quick laugh.

  “She keeps things entertaining,” the Countess responded, amused. “I fear I should probably go home. It is getting rather dark outside. You should go to sleep early, my dear. There are dark circles under your eyes. Please have your Lord Shefford call on me with details of what he finds.” She paused. “I do not believe the person who threw the stone meant any harm, based on his message, although that is strange.”

  “Why do you say that, Grandmama?” Nora questioned.

  “To me, the person who wrote the message and wrapped it around a stone, before tossing it through a window, seems desperate. The other person,” she continued, “is more concerning. Knocking out a guard takes some calculation, I would imagine.”

  “You think there could be two men?” An icy shiver skirted down her spine. For the first time in all of this, Nora’s unease threatened to overcome her.

  “Do you feel unwell, Nora? You look pale,” her grandmother remarked, clearly concerned.

  “No, Grandmama. I am quite well, although perhaps a little overwhelmed with the day’s events. I shall make a point of calling upon you and we can then talk more.”

  “I should like that very much, my dear. If you will forgive me I shall take my leave.” The Countess turned to Woods, waiting unobtrusively near the door, and showed her readiness with a nod. He helped the Countess with her pelisse and handed her her hat and gloves. “I expect you to maintain the comings and goings of this house, Woods. Keep a close eye on my granddaughter and the women and children,” she said firmly and loud enough for Nora to hear.

  “I assure you, my lady. I have just taken a tour of the environs. The property is secure.”

  Nora watched her grandmother leave, feeling thoroughly unsettled by her visit.

  Chapter 18

  Colin found Bergen at the club, enjoying drinks with Morray. He handed his coat to the doorman who pointed him towards the corner of the primary room where the two gentlemen were sitting, laughing at something one of them had said.

  “What has you with such a serious look, Shefford?” Bergen held out his glass in a cheerful toast.

  “I am afraid this day has been too eventful by half,” Colin replied, accepting a drink from the footman and taking the leather chair nearest Bergen.

  “How so?” Morray asked, accepting another cup of hot tea from the footman. He preferred it to the alcoholic beverages. No one ever commented on Morray’s choice of refreshment.

  “I must find Whitton. Another stone was hurled through a window at the orphanage this afternoon. The note appears much the same as the note pitched through my mother’s window—just a different message.”

  Bergen sat up. “May I see it?”

  Colin passed it to them and noticed their concern. “I see I do not have to say more,” he commented, his voice calmer than he felt.

  Morray reached into his waistcoat and extracted a small piece of paper. “I thought you might need this. It is his ladybird’s address. We should not waste time.”

  Colin studied the address. “That is two streets from here. I need to go immediately.” He stood to leave on his words.

  “Would you like company?” Bergen placed his glass on the side-table and rose from his chair.

  “Would three be too much company?” Morray took a last sip from his tea and placed his cup beside Bergen’s tumbler.

  “I would appreciate the help, if you have the time. There is more to tell. We found the Runner I sent to protect the orphanage with a large crack to the back of his head. It looks serious. Perth should be there now.”

  “That does not sound like Whitton,” interjected Morray. “He is more liable to react to events. And, despite the nasty attack on you, his reputation is one of duplicity, not maliciousness.”

  “I agree, although that only makes this entire episode more troubling,” Colin conceded.

  “Let us find Whitton first. He issued what appears to be a warning. He knows something that we need to know,” Bergen suggested.

  Fifteen minutes later, the three men arrived at a three-story residence on Cleveland Avenue. The tall, shabby pink building at the corner stood in stark contrast to the mostly white ones that dominated the street.

  “I assume that makes it easy to spot,” teased Bergen.

  “The pink building enjoys a reputation based on the lack-luster women who live there—not that I have ever frequented this building,” Morray added, “However, it has often made my business easier, as I have found many targets of my investigations here.” He sniggered.

  They took the stairs to the third floor. Four shabby red doors faced the hall, with only a number to distinguish them. They knocked on 3B and a small opening in the top slid open.

  “What can I do for you fancy gentlemen?” a woman’s voice asked.

  Colin recognized the raspy voice as belonging to the woman from the hell. They had the right place. “We would like to talk to you. I will make it worth your while.” He held up a gold coin. “Not for your services—for information,” he clarified, to Bergen’s amusement. The door opened and a woman with reddish hair and a red velvet wrapper stood in front of him, not saying a word. She waved them in and closed the door behind them. Her hair looked like an enormous bird’s nest, being uncombed and unrestrained. Lip color remained on her mouth and black kohl lined the underside of her eyes. It was obvious they had awoken her.

  A bed stood in the corner; it sagged in the middle and was covered with what appeared to be dirty laundry. It was obvious she had slept on top of the linens. The rest of the sparsely furnished room looked dusted and well-ordered—a cabinet, a small table, a chair with a side-table and a lamp. An almost threadbare carpet covered the floor. It was hard to make out anything but blue and pink for the colors. Except for the bed, it appeared she cared about a neat home.

  “What do you toffs need?” she asked sharply.

  “We know Lord Whitton stays here and we need to speak to him,” Morray stated. “I am Lord Morray, this is Lord Bergen and Lord Shefford. We are not here to cause you distress.”

  At the mention of Bergen and Shefford, her face went pale. “I don’t need no trouble. This ’ere’s my ’ome.”

  “We only want information.” Colin quickly explained the note, withdrawing the slip of paper and showing it to the jade.

  “He did it!” she uttered. “He cares. I knew it.”

  Unsure of what she meant, Colin noticed her speech was more refined than before.

  “We merely need to speak with him. Wait. What did you mean, he cares?”

  “There was a boy, ’bout eight, what I saved from the chimneys and took to an orphanage. A man overheard me telling a close friend about the boy. He used to work for the cove, see…”

  “Doing chimneys?
” Colin inquired.

  “Tom Sneed is his man and a right villain. A regular brute. Whitton come over furious with me for telling ’im, although like I said, I did not mean to. It just happened. Sneed is awful dangerous, and I be worried about Benjamin.”

  “You care about the boy.” It was more of a statement.

  “I do, but I don’t have the wherewithal to help him. He already coughs. I wanted to save him—not have him have to make a living like me, doing something he hates…” Her voice faded.

  “I know of Sneed,” Morray said.

  “Thank you.” Colin passed the woman two gold sovereigns.

  They left and met Whitton coming up the stairs. Colin smashed him against the wall, holding him by the throat.

  “Why were you at the orphanage today?” he demanded.

  The man’s face swelled red from lack of oxygen and he stammered incoherently.

  “Cannot breathe,” he choked.

  Colin relaxed his hold and let him slide down the wall. Crumpled on the floor, Whitton looked up at the men.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Do not make me regret not beating you to a pulp. Tell me what you know,” Colin demanded.

  “I went there to warn my niece. Sneed is looking to make off with some of her children. My visit was to protect her. My mother will be furious if anything happens to her.”

  Colin angrily cut him off. “You worthless shit. You should have had the ballocks to warn her of this rogue. Instead, you nearly killed my man and threw a stone through the window—frightening the women and children.”

  No one said a word for a long moment.

  Whitton appeared to process the information. “I did not hurt anyone. I only threw the stone. Sneed did it. He was there. I tried to find him—to tell him to leave off or…”

  “Or what?” Colin sneered. “You will throw a stone at him?” He grabbed Whitton by the scruff of the neck. He wanted to hurt him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and reluctantly dropped the miserable excuse for a man. Breathing heavily, he stepped back.

  “We need to return to the orphanage,” Whitton croaked. “Without your guard, they are in trouble. Sneed is ruthless. I love my sister and even though Honoria is difficult, I do not want to see her hurt.”

  “We need to stop him before he makes his move. You can help us with his address.” Bergen spoke up.

  “This is all my mother’s fault. If she had not placed me in the position of having to beg for a farthing, I would not be in this situation…”

  “Silence! What is his address?” Morray glared at Whitton. “I, for one, am sick of your sniveling.”

  “He stays at the lodging-house behind the hell, near the stable where we… met.” Whitton slumped further.

  Colin recognized regret on Whitton’s face. The man bullied others less fortunate than he, yet he did seem to care about his family—even if most of it was fear of his mother.

  The three friends turned, leaving Whitton piled on the floor of the grubby hall.

  “I need to check Nora is safe,” Colin said as they exited the building into his waiting coach.

  “Set me down at the club, if you will,” Morray commented as they drove across Town. Send word when you have decided when you want to find Sneed. He is a parasite.”

  “I will go with you to the orphanage if you do not mind, just in case,” Bergen offered. “My horse is at the club. It can stay there for the time being.”

  “I appreciate both of you. Morray, I shall send word as soon as I have seen Nora and know everyone is well.” The coach stopped at the club’s Belford Place address and Morray jumped down.

  * * *

  Dusk had given way to nightfall. The doctor had given the Runner laudanum and pronounced that Peeling would recover in a few days. His head would hurt with the ten stitches the doctor had applied to the gash in the man’s scalp. Once Perth had left, Nora asked Mary and Mrs. Simpkins to put the children to bed. She had the headache a little, so had taken her grandmother’s advice and retired early, yet thoughts stirred in her head. She missed Colin.

  He did not return, as she had hoped. Surely, he would be here tomorrow? The other two women had the same idea, according to a comment Mrs. Simpkins had made. There were no more sounds of children. They must be asleep. She closed her eyes and tried to make herself go to sleep.

  A scraping sound, coming from the direction of the boys’ room, dispelled those efforts. She sat up and tied her robe, deciding to investigate. Perhaps a hot cup of tea afterwards would help her to sleep.

  The room was dark, with only the filtered light of the moon streaming in. How strange. We never leave a window open at this time of year. Nora adjusted her eyes and stared into the half-light. There was a figure standing over Benjamin’s sleeping form.

  “Benjamin, roll away from him! Run!” she cried. The man grabbed her and dragged her to the window. Nora screamed, kicking and struggling in vain as he shoved a dirty rag into her mouth and thrust her on to the window ledge.

  “Miss Nora,” Benjamin screamed.”

  The small boy ran to her, pulling at her feet, yelling and finally gaining the aid of the other boys. One ran down the hall for help. Two others tried to help Benjamin pull Miss Nora away. The man reached over to grab Benjamin and was bitten for his efforts. He roared his anger and struck his fist into Benjamin’s head, then thrust a filthy sack over Nora’s face. She fell limp and slipped over the window ledge. As gravity stole her last chance of survival, her feet followed; barely sensible, she felt one slipper fall off before she succumbed to the cloying darkness.

  Chapter 19

  Nora woke to a pounding head, a freezing room, and a foul odor. Opening her eyes, she saw only blackness and could barely feel her toes. Her feet felt like frozen blocks of ice. She tried wiggling them and rotating her ankles, thinking it might help. She missed one of her shoes and thought she remembered losing it in the boys’ room. As her senses adjusted to her mean surroundings, she heard heavy breathing coming from across the room and men’s voices filtering up from below.

  The sound of something thudding against a wall, she presumed, and followed by loud cursing, encouraged her to listen. Where was she? Where were they?

  “Damn it, Hyde! You do me bidding or ye’ll finish yer days slung wi’ bricks and tossed to the bottom of the river,” a deep voice growled. “I’ll say what happens to the wench.”

  Nora recalled what Becca had said about her mother and shivered in fear. They had found her facedown, floating in the river.

  “Yer sure she ain’t connected to the gentry, Mr. Sneed? She smells clean,” a higher male voice persisted. “She ’jes don’t seem like no Haymarket ware.”

  “Quit yer belly-aching and git her to the game. Wrap her up and git her gone. And never address me by my name if you value yer life.”

  “Kill me. Ye threaten ’n bluster, yet I knows of none as is mutton-headed ’nuff to take yer coin in trade fer thur soul. I promised me missus I’d not dangle at the end of a rope. Selling a Society miss could make a liar out of me,” the second man challenged.

  “Do what I pay ye fer. The blonde in the robe will bring more money on the sale table than the other. Make sure ye grab the right one. I want that bitch to pay for interfering with my trade.”

  “What’d she do, guv’nor?” Hyde probed.

  A loud slap sounded. “Damn! What’d ye do that fer?” It was that same higher-pitched male voice. Hyde, Nora thought.

  “Never ye mind. Yer asking too many questions. Git down there to the tables and tell me when they are ready fer the next one. I need to git to the boys. I have a chimney business to run.”

  “Yus, yer ‘onour,” Hyde spat out, the sarcasm evident even above.

  Are they discussing me? What game are they talking about? Swallowing a gasp with her fist, Nora realized her eyes had adjusted to the light in the room. It was so cold she could see her breath, and the only thing she had on was her pink wrapper, and gown beneath it, and one pink satin slipper.
At least it had a leather bottom. One shoe could not get her far. At least she had not been tied. Perhaps they felt the laudanum had been sufficient.

  Nora heard a door slam. It sounded from the room below her. She might not have much time. For a moment, she recalled the dream of a knight in shining armor rescuing her and snorted.

  “I had a dashing prince this afternoon. Tonight, I find myself near Hell’s door,” she lamented. Another snort and a snore reminded her she was not alone in the room.

  Something smelled putrid. Sniffing, she leaned closer to the mattress. “Lud, I think something died on this bed. ’Tis nasty,” she whispered to herself.

  She quickly scanned the room. Boards covered two windows, which had no glass in this mean dwelling. Opposing streams of light pierced the darkness—one from a sizable crack in the boards covering the window near her, and another from under the door. She scanned the room. There was a broken-down dresser in the corner. It had but one drawer; a second dangled in pieces from an opening. A bed in the corner held the body of the room’s other occupant. One who snores, she thought. Catching her attention, the moonbeam hit a shining item on the wooden floor in front of her bed. Shards of glass lay everywhere. Cautiously, she bent down to investigate. She had to be careful with only one shoe.

  Shivers shook her body, and she tugged her wrap tighter, gingerly extending one foot over the side of the small bed. A squeak sounded, and she withdrew her foot in time to watch a rat run across the room and disappear into the wall. Another involuntary tremor assailed her, and she waited for it to pass. Whether possessed by cold or fear, she had to escape. No prince could find her in this dungeon.

  Summoning all her courage, Nora crept to the other bed, carefully avoiding anything that reflected light from the floor, and using the foot with the shoe to clear her path. When she reached the bed, she studied the person lying there. The body belonged to another woman, and a rather bosky one at that, judging from the deep snores and the sour smell of alcohol. There was no telling where they had abducted her from—if there had even been an abduction. The fuddled woman could be up here sleeping off her potations.