by Peggy Waide
The older woman patted her hand. "Of course, ma petite. Now, let us unravel this dress so you may return home. I know what must be done. The dress will be delivered in two days."
Still disoriented by the news, Jocelyn walked from the dressmaker's out onto Bond street, explaining to the driver of the carriage that she wished to walk a little way. Absently strolling down the street, she stopped at a small shop filled with delicate clothing for children, mesmerized by the tiny fashions. As if hearing the news for the first time, her hand drifted protectively to her abdomen.
Warm, stale breath skimmed her cheek. Abruptly, she pivoted to stare into cold, wicked eyes.
"Well, if it ain't the li'l coo all dressed up like a dog's dinner. I see you remember of Jocko?" Sweeping his woolen cap from his head, the Bedlam attendant executed a bow that allowed his hand to brush the side of Jocelyn's breast.
Shocked from her paralyzing fear, she attacked. "How dare you? This is not your private hellhole in which you can freely take liberties."
As he laughed with knife-edged anger, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "No worries, luv. Jocko knows all about that fancy man ya married, but he ain't anywhere around. The ole crone ain't here to save you this time neither."
He emphasized his words by roughly grabbing her elbow and shoving her toward the alley. Before a scream could pass her lips, his filthy hand clamped her mouth shut. What now? Just when her mind grasped the danger of the situation, her arm was freed and the sound of pounding fists filled her ears. She whirled to witness Jocko draw a firearm from his coat pocket and aim directly at the heart of Tameron Innes.
"No!" she screamed, flinging herself onto Jocko's back, forcing the shot to deflect to the ground. In retaliation, he smacked his fist into her jaw. She sailed one way even as he hurled a gleaming dagger at Tam.
"You bloody son of a bitch," Tam growled, advancing and ducking at the same time. When Jocelyn's head connected with the brick wall of the building, her anguished cry turned Tam's attention from Jocko's retreating back. Through the ringing in her brain, she heard Jocko fling back, "I know alls about ya, ducky. One word and I'll gladly kill you. Or that fancy man o'yours. Makes no matter to me."
"Jocelyn, can you hear me?" Tam asked, kneeling beside her. He continued to search the growing crowd for any sign of the big brute responsible. Seeing no one, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to his carriage.
By the time they arrived at the town house on Park Lane, her jaw throbbed like a beating drum, her stomach roiled anxiously and tears streamed rampantly down her cheeks. Although Tam sat beside her offering gentle words of calm, she sensed his contained frustration.
Upon their entrance to Black House, Reyn took one look at her disarray, at the ugly bruise on her face, and all hell broke loose. Reynolds Blackburn was a man possessed, a thousand questions popping from his mouth.
"Please, Reyn," Jocelyn pleaded, as he carried her upstairs. "Cease! If you rail at me one more time, I swear I will empty the contents of my stomach onto your lap." She finally had his attention. "Thank you," she added as he placed her on the bed and plumped the pillow behind her head.
He removed his hands from her body and rapidly placed them on his hips. "You will not evade me this time. Do you hear?"
"How could I not hear? If you yell one more time, I shall be deaf." She changed her tack when a fierce scowl crossed his face. "I'm fine. Really. Please, allow me a brief rest. I will gladly answer any questions later." She watched the various emotions play upon his face. When his shoulders heaved a heavy sigh, she knew she had won. "I promise I will tell you everything." She yawned. "Later?" The plea with sleep-filled words gained her a nap.
The parlor glowed with lamplight as she entered to find Tam and Reyn engaged in a game of pitch-and-toss. When Reyn noticed her, he threw his coin to the table, crossed the room, gathered her into a tight embrace and placed a soft kiss upon her temple. The dark bruise adorning her jaw attested to the fact that the encounter that afternoon had not been a nightmare, but real, living terror. She hoped Reyn would be reasonable after her explanation.
"Sit down. Tell me what happened today." He settled her beside him on the brocade settee, Tam opposite them. Reyn's hand curled tightly around his drink. "I want the truth, Jocelyn. Why did that man attack you? Tam thought you knew the fellow."
Sharply, her eyes turned to Tam.
"Only an observation, Jocelyn."
"A very astute one." Until that moment, she hadn't really decided what to say. Jocko was a fink to Bedlam, the part of her past Reyn already knew. Her uncertainty of Jocko's link to her step-uncle was the most disconcerting. However, she decided to take the chance. Reyn needed to know the truth in order to protect himself. "He worked as an attendant at Bedlam."
"Good. I'll go there directly and kill the bloody wretch."
She placed her palm against his fingers. "Reyn, you can't go about London killing everyone you choose." She could almost hear Reyn's mind searching for a reasonable response. "Besides, you won't find him there."
"Why not?"
Telling this part of the story became a bit tricky. Given Reyn's agitated state and her upcoming news, he would likely storm from the house and tear London apart to find Jocko. "Do you remember how Agatha intervened when she saved me from Bedlam?"
She waited while he thought back.
"Agatha found you in some room. You were being attacked by-"
He bounded off the settee, his eyes a frosty blue, his face pinched with fury. "Do you mean to tell me the man attacking you today is the same bastard that attacked you in Bedlam? I will personally kill him."
"Now, Reyn-"
"How do you know I won't find him at the hospital?"
"Agatha had him dismissed. I'm sure he resents me a great deal. You cannot kill him for attacking me."
He paced the length of the room. "I will simply break both his hands so he can't touch another helpless female."
"Believe me, I despise him, but be reasonable. File charges, do anything you like. But please do not put yourself in harm's way because of Jocko. He's not worth it."
"Jocko? That's his name?"
"Yes. Did you hear anything I said?"
"I'm not deaf."
"No. Just stupid and stubborn and..." She looked to Tam for support. `Tam, talk to him. Please."
"Unfortunately, Jocelyn, I agree. That brute deserves a lesson or two in good behavior."
"Oh." She should have realized Tam's opinion. He wore the same pinched expression as Reyn.
Reyn sat back down beside Jocelyn and tenderly fingered the mark on her jaw. "You think I can sit and do nothing when he hurt you? My God, woman. He left you with bruises."
"Fine." She squared her shoulders and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Do what you must, but don't crawl to me when he splits your head open. He's a dangerous man."
His expression grew fiercer and darker. "Your belief in my abilities is overwhelming."
She scowled back at him just as fiercely, which seemed to have no effect at all.
"Tam and I will simply keep our wits about us. If luck prevails, we shall find that bastard. Until then, I want you restricted to the house."
"Nonsense."
"Nonsense? You could have been seriously injured today."
"Other than this ugly bruise, the man did not hurt me. I won't be confined."
Studying her for a long moment, he placed his hands behind his back, stood and paced. "Have you forgotten that someone abducted and hid you away at Bedlam?"
"Of course not."
Tam added his opinion. "It might be best, Jocelyn."
"No!"
"For heaven's sake," Reyn blasted. "You trust me with that damned cat. You trust me to provide your entertainment. You trust me to clothe and feed you. You even trust me with your body. Why won't you trust me with your life?"
Tam cleared his throat.
"Don't worry, my friend. I have said nothing you don't already know."
Drastic
measures such as confinement would cause countless problems when her step-uncle returned to London. She also had plans to make for Reyn's upcoming birthday party. Yet, the tiny life growing in her womb changed everything. "I will tell you my plans daily. Certainly Davey will watch more closely. Please. I could not stand to be confined."
"You will go nowhere without me, Walter, Tam or Davey to accompany you. Do you understand?"
She stood and kissed the frown from his face. "Yes. Trust me as well. I have every reason to remain safe."
He has returned.
Those three simple words cut through her as easily as a dagger might. Jocelyn steadied herself by grasping the edge of the mantel to read the message a second time. It left little doubt. Her step-uncle had ended his business in the Caribbean. He was in London.
Intent on reaching Agatha immediately and unnoticed, she whirled with a sense of irrepressible urgency only to crash into her husband's arms.
"What's all this? You're absolutely pale," he said, his hand grasping her chin.
"Nothing." She knew she answered much too quickly. Gulping a calming breath, a smile locked on her face, she stuffed the note into her pocket. "I just realized I have an appointment with Agatha. If you'll excuse me, I am dreadfully late."
His grip held firm as she tried to slip past. "What business has you running about like a small gale wind?"
"Agatha and I planned to shop. I forgot. She sent a message to remind me."
Tenderly, Reyn caressed the inside of her wrist with his thumb. "Perhaps I should accompany you."
"No!" she snapped.
His brows lifted at her abrupt response. Cautiously, he asked, "Jocelyn, if something were wrong, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"
She could not help but notice that his statement was more a command than a question. "Of course, darling," she replied brightly. "I'm sorry to seem like such a lackwit, but Agatha is waiting."
"I see." He scrutinized her face in an attempt to ascertain the truth of her statement. She was lying. He knew it. He also knew that direct confrontation would undoubtedly prove fruitless. He decided to let her go and attack the mystery from another direction.
"Do try to calm down. I am sure Bond Street will have more than enough trinkets for you to buy. Retrieve your cloak. I will notify the groom."
Yes. He would notify Davey with detailed instructions. Ever since the altercation with Jocko, unbeknownst to his wife, he had elected to keep her safe and have her watched. He would have his answers by evening.
Repeatedly, as if the devil himself nipped at her heels, Jocelyn covered the length of Agatha's salon in anxious, clipped steps. Agatha, on the other hand, sat upon a saffron-colored settee of lush velvet, calmly answering the barrage of questions.
"I have told you twice already, Jocelyn. Your Bow Street runner was most specific with his information. One Horace Mardell arrived yesterday. He has taken up residence in your London home. There is no mistake. Your step-uncle has returned."
Jocelyn paced the floor another three times before Agatha asked, "Correct me if I am wrong, but I thought this day is the one you have eagerly anticipated."
Lost in thought, Jocelyn stopped beside the walnut escritoire, absently fingered the assortment of writing materials and accepted the truth of the message. That meant accepting all the implications as well. The plan for revenge, born and fostered over the last few months, would be initiated, possibly ending her newfound happiness.
She shook away her despondency and straightened her shoulders. She knew what had to be done. "We must see that my step-uncle receives an invitation to the Montgomery ball."
Agatha looked puzzled. "So soon?"
Jocelyn nodded. "If I wait any longer, I may lose my nerve. It shames me to admit this, but I'm terrified."
"As you should be. This is definitely a time for prudent fear. Nevertheless, I cannot see any harm in waiting a week or so."
Jocelyn considered her pregnancy, and the tenuous but passionate relationship she and Reyn had settled into. Her dreams could crumble like the ancient grey stone of Hadrian's Wall at any moment. Countless obstacles seemed to remain, and one by one they had to be overcome. Until then, neither she nor her baby had a future. Like a battle-worn soldier, she sat down woodenly. "I have four days to reclaim my composure. Can you arrange the invitation?"
"Of course. Shall I ensure Lord Halden's presence?"
"You still believe he is best suited for our purposes?"
"A more crooked, devious blighter I have never known. He will most likely prostrate himself at the emergence of a new pigeon. We simply make the introductions, and given the opportunity and the appropriate encouragement, I assure you that Lord Halden will gladly embroil Horace Mardell in every felonious scheme possible. In one week's time, perhaps two, given what you have said about your step-uncle's character, he will no doubt be up to his shirtsleeves in illegal land titles, bordellos or some form of thievery, the evidence easily manipulated to bring the man low." The dowager paused to consider something. "Are you positive he won't claim you as his niece?"
Jocelyn's curls bounced from side to side as she adamantly shook her head. "No. The moment he claims any relationship to me, my inheritance reverts to Reyn. Horace won't let that happen. I think he will take his time to ascertain the truth about my memory loss and plot my demise in a more permanent manner."
A sigh, heavy with reluctance, fell from Agatha's pursed lips. "This is a dangerous game we play."
Distractedly, before she answered, Jocelyn scanned the salon as if an alternative solution might hide amongst the tapestries or paintings on the walls. "I know."
"Fine, but hear this," Agatha said, her voice firm and commanding, making the warning clear, "I will remain silent as long as I think you are safe. If, for one minute, I fear for you, I will tell my grandson everything. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
"Now tell me. How are you and Reyn?"
Shrugging her shoulders evasively, Jocelyn asked, "What do you mean?"
Agatha spoke while she set her empty teacup on the nearby table. "You know exactly what I mean."
Knowing precisely what Agatha sought, yet not ready to bare her soul, Jocelyn asked, "Did your husband love you? I mean, really love you?"
The dowager's eyes sparkled and her smile deepened, her entire face glowing with an expression born of deep emotion. "My darling Harden was like no other. I loved him as life itself, and miracle of miracles, he felt the same."
"Is that why you never remarried?"
"When Harden died, I was desolate. Once I accustomed myself to his death, I realized we'd had more love, more cherished moments, than most people have in a lifetime. I received numerous offers, but all other men paled by comparison. I contented myself with my memories and raising Reyn." Agatha's mind seemed to leave the place where daydreams linger and said, "Child, what is this all really about?"
"My mother used to tell me that marriage without love could be constant, companionable and pleasant, in a quiet sort of way. She also said that to love someone and have the love returned was probably the greatest gift one could receive. I know my mother resigned her self to being content with my father, but I believe my grandparents' marriage was like yours. I remember the turbulence, the excitement, the joy, the love. They were devoted to one another. I want what they had. What you had."
"Don't you have that now?"
The constant matchmaker in the budding relationship, Agatha pressed Jocelyn for information whenever possible. Today, knowing the possible hurdles that lay ahead, this conversation seemed pointless to Jocelyn. Still, she found herself responding. "Everything has been wonderful. Like a dream come true."
"And...?" Agatha prodded.
"I love Reyn."
"Is that so horrible?"
"I am so afraid he will despise me," she whimpered miserably. When Agatha extended her arms in comfort, Jocelyn abandoned the tight rein on her emotions, crossed the room, dropped to her knees and placed her head in Agatha's lap.
> Agatha stroked the riot of curls. "Have you told Reyn?"
Her shoulders tensed. Lifting her head to stare at Agatha, Jocelyn said, "Absolutely not. I won't, either, until this business is resolved."
"Has he declared his affection for you?"
Jocelyn laughed at the ridiculousness of the question. "Reyn lusts for me, but he holds no deep feelings."
"Stubborn fools," Agatha muttered, "both of you." She wiped Jocelyn's tear-stained cheek and sighed. "He does care for you, even if he has yet to admit it. To you or himself. And if you love him, you will fight for him." As Agatha continued to stare at her granddaughter-inlaw, she asked, "My dear, is there something else? You seem so forlorn."
Jocelyn's heart cried out to reveal the truth about Phillip Bains, his death and her role in the incident. The fear of rejection by Agatha, the possible alienation, firmly sealed Jocelyn's lips. She stood, wiped away a wayward tear, then placed a delicate kiss on the older woman's cheek. "No, but thank you. I will never be able to repay you for all your kindness."
"Pish posh. There is no need to become maudlin." Pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve to offer it to Jocelyn, Agatha continued. "We have one more item to discuss. What of Reyn's surprise birthday celebration? Do we move forward? With your step-uncle's return, are you sure you want to add another wrinkle to the linens?"
"Everything is ready. I will not cancel the party simply because Horace decided to show his scurrilous face in London. I am through hiding from the man. Anyway, if things don't go as planned, we shall change it to a farewell party for me." For that impertinent comment, she received a light tap on her hand from Agatha.
"Does Reyn suspect?"
Crossing to the chair beside Agatha, Jocelyn plopped down as if her entire body had exhaled a huge breath of air. "I am sure he suspects a great many things, Agatha, but not this. After the altercation with Jocko, he threatened to have me followed. I dissuaded him from that idea. In order to finish the preparations, I will feign a few afternoon calls and shopping excursions. He will be completely surprised."
"And what of that scoundrel? Have they found him?"