“How about I buy the girl?” he replied with a leer.
“Mebbe,” she returned, although she’d sooner dive into the harbor and try to swim to Ireland. “Drink first, and if ye can tell me if ye’ve heard anything of me da, maybe it’ll be free.”
“Who’s he?”
“John Mayhew.”
The Big Man mused a moment, then turned to a weasel-like, much smaller man on his right. “Ain’t that the name o’ the fella nearly fell off the gangplank on that ship goin’ to Canada?”
“It was John Mayhew, all right,” Weasel-face confirmed.
“So he got on the ship, then?” she asked, trying not to betray her relief.
Fields reached out and dragged her close. He smelled worse than the man at the door of the gambling hell. “So now you’re all alone in Liverpool and needin’ the protection of a strong man like me, eh?”
“Needin’ a drink, that’s certain,” she replied, hoping he’d let her go.
He did, but only for an instant before he grabbed her hand and knocked loudly on the door to the gaming hell. “Open up, ya bastard!” he shouted.
The door opened and Fields pulled Thea inside.
* * *
Dev slowed his exhausted horse to a trot and rode through the gates of an inn near the outskirts of Liverpool. He had changed mounts twice already; mercifully this would be the last time before he reached the city.
A groom ran out and took hold of the horse’s bridle.
“Does the coach to Liverpool stop here?” Dev asked, dismounting.
“Aye, sir.”
“Was there a young woman traveling alone to Liverpool recently?”
The groom eyed him warily. “I just looks after the horses, sir.”
Dev reached into his pocket and took out a silver coin. He did not hand it over at once. “You would have noticed her. She’s very pretty.”
The groom shifted as the horse refooted. “Well, now, sir, seems to me there mighta bin.”
Dev still did not give up the coin. Instead he rolled it between his fingers so that the silver glinted in the weak autumn sunlight. “Might have been, or was?”
“Was, sir, wearing a drab pelisse and a straw bonnet that’s seen better days. Brown hair she had, and very pretty, like you said.”
Thea, without a doubt, and he was grateful she’d worn that memorably ugly pelisse.
“I want a fresh horse at once,” he ordered. “I’ll be leaving as soon as I’ve had a drink and something to eat.”
He tossed the coin to the groom. He caught it, then tugged his forelock. “Aye, sir.”
Dev nodded and strode into the modest inn. He’d made only brief stops on his way to Liverpool and didn’t intend to linger long here, either. He had to get to Liverpool and find Thea. If she was looking for her father among the gambling hells there, he had no time to waste.
* * *
Fortunately for Thea, Able Fields was more interested in drinking and playing cards than toying with her, at least for the time being.
So she fetched his drinks in the dirty, dingy hell while trying to conquer the queasiness caused by the stench of stale sweat, sawdust and ale. Most of the time she was able to keep some distance between herself and the large man, but not always. A few times Fields hauled her down onto his lap, only to shove her off when a new hand was dealt or he wanted another drink. Nevertheless, she knew that as soon as the game palled or the drink took stronger hold, she would be in danger of molestation or worse, and she searched for ways to escape without detection.
Finally there came a particularly close game. As the Big Man’s attention was focused on the hand he was about to play—a good one, as she well knew, just as she knew he was dealing from the bottom of the deck—she inched her way to the rickety stairs leading back down to the alley.
She was nearly there when Field’s voice boomed across the room. “You dirty, lying cheat!”
At the same time, a knife flew past Thea’s head and stuck, quivering, in the frame of the door.
Gasping, she turned to see Fields lunge across the table at the filthy, greasy-haired man sitting opposite him. That man’s chair tumbled backward, taking them both with it and breaking beneath their weight. Undeterred, the men rolled on the floor, each bashing the other with his fists while coarsely cursing. Field’s gang moved out of the way, leaving the two men to battle it out. Some even started to laugh and shout encouragement.
This was Thea’s chance and she took it, flying down the stairs and out into the street. She ran as fast and as far as she could, ignoring anyone who called out to her, until she came to a street of finer shops. Only then did she stop, drawing in great, deep breaths of fresh air, paying no heed to the crowd of curious onlookers who began to surround her.
* * *
Dev was getting more and more desperate and afraid. Each gambling hell or tavern he visited seeking Thea was worse than the last—dirtier and darker, filled with worse kinds of men. He had hoped he would find her quickly, or at least obtain some information that would help him to find her. Instead it was as if she, like her father, had disappeared from the face of the earth.
Perhaps she’d been lying to him all along and knew exactly where Sir John was and had gone to meet him. But Dev didn’t want to believe that, or that she was capable of deceiving him so thoroughly. After all, she had certainly seemed genuinely shocked when he told her Sir John apparently wasn’t on any ship to Canada.
Nevertheless, if she had been lying and had deceived him, he had to find out, no matter how it hurt him.
Even if it broke his heart.
He spotted a commotion farther down the street, then gasped at the sight of a familiar straw bonnet—an ugly straw bonnet, the sort a poor farmer’s wife would wear.
He sprinted toward the little knot of men and women surrounding a woman gasping for breath who said, in a determined voice he knew so well, “Thank you, but I’m really quite all right!”
“Thea!” he cried, shoving his way toward her.
“Dev!” she exclaimed.
And then she was in his arms, holding him tightly while he clasped her to him as if he never wanted to let her go. No matter what she’d done, he didn’t want to let her go.
“Oh, Dev,” she whispered as if just as glad and relieved to see him. “Let’s get away from here, please.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked, drawing back to search her lovely, exhausted face.
“No, I’m fine. Only tired.”
He took her hand just as an older, well-dressed gentleman in the fashion of a decade ago and wearing a Welsh wig moved to intercept them. “Are you sure you want to go with this fellow?” he asked Thea, his tone kind, but the look he gave Dev wary and suspicious.
“He’s my husband.”
The man didn’t immediately move.
“You heard her. I’m her husband,” Dev said, his concern for Thea and his desire to get her safely away to his hotel making him brusque.
The man and a few others around them ran a measuring gaze over Thea and then Dev. “This young woman is your wife?” the first man asked, raising an eyebrow with a look that said, “You are finely dressed yet this woman you claim is your wife is dressed like that?”
“I assure you, she is,” Dev swiftly replied, his patience fraying.
“Thank you for your concern,” Thea said more diplomatically, “but he truly is my husband. You mustn’t blame him for my attire. These clothes were my choice, and I got lost and panicked.” She clutched Dev’s arm. “I can’t tell you how glad I am he found me.”
There could be no doubting her sincerity, not on Dev’s part or any of the onlookers, either.
“As long as you’re not in danger,” the older man said, moving out of their way at last.
Dev put his arm around
his wife and together they hurried down the street.
* * *
“Where are we going?” Thea asked as they continued toward the more fashionable part of the city.
“My hotel, the King’s Arms. You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
“Yes.” She wanted to ask what he was doing here, why he’d come back to Liverpool and how he’d found her, but was too tired and afraid of what he might answer to say anything more, until he spoke first. “Did you find out anything about your father?”
She hadn’t expected that, or the gentle kindness in his voice. But before she could answer, a large man stepped out of an alley. A large, familiar man.
“What d’ya think ye’re doing, ya swab?” Fields demanded, eying Dev angrily, his beefy hands on his hips and his gang behind him.
Her husband regarded the Big Man with cool aplomb. “I’m walking with my wife, not that it’s any business of yours.”
“Wife?” Fields returned with a disdainful sniff, as skeptical as the helpful older man had been, but for a very different reason. “That’s rich! Since when’s a British toff married t’ an Irish whore?”
Dev shot a puzzled glance at Thea.
“Never mind what he says. We should get away from these men,” she urgently whispered.
Instead of following her heartfelt suggestion, Dev let go of her hand and planted his feet. “How dare you insult my wife?”
“Think you’re brave, do ya?” Fields returned, pulling a knife from his thick leather belt—a large knife that he held with the practiced ease of someone who was used to using it.
Neither he nor Thea had counted on Dev reaching behind his back and bringing forth a pistol, which he pointed at the ruffian’s head. “If I were you, I would leave us alone,” he said calmly, “before I put a lead ball in your brain.”
The ruffian’s gang began backing away while the Big Man’s eyes narrowed to mere beady slits. “What game’s this, eh?”
“We could call it Go Away or I’ll Shoot,” Dev replied, his pistol still aimed at the man’s head, his arm steady as a rock.
Fields looked past Dev to Thea, who held her breath, then back to Dev. “She’s the sort likes to play games, eh? And you come to her rescue, do ya? Gives ya both a thrill, does it?”
Despite his disdainful words—and to Thea’s vast relief—Fields started to back away.
“I wouldn’t come round again, either one o’ ya,” he charged, “or you’re liable to wind up playin’ my little game. Floatin’ in the Harbor, I calls it.” He turned on his heel and made a swift gesture to his gang. “Come on, lads, let’s get out o’ here. We got things to do.”
Dev did not lower his pistol until the brute and his gang disappeared around a corner. When they were finally gone, Thea relaxed and put her hand gently on his arm. “Please, Dev, let’s go.”
He needed no further urging. He tucked his pistol back into his waistband, then hailed a nearby hackney coach. “To the King’s Arms and as quick as you can,” he ordered as he helped Thea inside.
* * *
Once in the coach, Thea leaned back against the worn squabs and closed her eyes, desperately trying to control her dizziness and nausea and calm her racing heart. Unfortunately the rocking of the cab only made her feel worse.
“Are you ill?”
She opened her eyes to see Dev regarding her with a wrinkle of concern between his dark brows. She was too tired to tell him about the child she was carrying and too weary to deal with his reaction should he be less than pleased, so she shook her head.
“How the devil did you get mixed up with a lout like that?” he asked. “And why does he think you’re an Irish whore?”
She sighed and answered truthfully, “There are places in Liverpool the gentry don’t know and wouldn’t get in if they did. I pretended to be a poor Irish woman to gain admittance, and as for the epithet, I suspect Fields calls most women whores.
“But whatever danger I was in,” she continued, her vitality returning with the excitement of what she’d learned, “it was worth it. My father did get on board a ship sailing for Halifax. One of those awful men saw him. He remembers because my father nearly fell off the gangplank.”
“And you believed the fellow?”
In the face of Dev’s skepticism, her delight and relief diminished slightly. “He had no reason to lie.”
“Such men have no reason to be truthful, either.”
“What purpose would it serve for him to lie to me about a man getting on board a ship?” she demanded.
Dev’s countenance softened. “I want to believe your father got on the ship, too.” He moved to sit beside her, and there was tenderness in his dark eyes. “We’ll say no more about it for now. Rest your head on my shoulder, Thea. You’re safe now, and I’ll keep you safe. I am your husband, after all.”
* * *
Dev said no more to Thea about her journey to Liverpool or the reason for it that night or the next day as they journeyed back to Dundrake Hall. He was too concerned about Thea’s state of health to question her. She ate very little at dinner and while she fell asleep as soon as they returned to their room, she seemed less rested than he that morning even though he’d spent the night in a chair.
She continued to deny that she was ill when he asked her at breakfast, but she did not look well and by the time they finally got to Dundrake Hall, it was all he could do not to pick her up and carry her up the stairs to her bedroom. He didn’t because he was afraid she would rebuff his efforts in front of the servants, and they already had enough reason to believe things were troubled between their master and mistress without adding to their concern.
Nevertheless, after Thea had gone upstairs with her maid, he immediately asked Mrs. Wessex to join him in the study.
“We’re glad to have you back, Sir Develin,” the housekeeper said with a wide smile. “And Lady Dundrake, too, of course.”
“As am I after our silly misunderstanding.” That was all the explanation he was going to give for Thea’s departure and his subsequent journey to Liverpool. “Has my wife been ill?”
“Nooo, not exactly,” the housekeeper replied cautiously.
Her tentative manner did nothing to assuage Dev’s fear. “Has she seen a physician?”
“Not yet. Nor has your wife said anything to me about doing so, but then it’s early days yet,” Mrs. Wessex said, her gravity giving way to another smile.
“I fail to see anything amusing about an illness,” Dev said, taken aback by the housekeeper’s apparent lack of concern.
“I didn’t say I thought she was sick,” Mrs. Wessex said quickly, serious once again. “I think she’s expecting.”
“What is she expecting?” he demanded. Her father’s return? That he might send her away?
Mrs. Wessex positivity beamed. “Lord love you, Sir Develin, a baby. I think she’s expecting a baby.”
Stunned, Dev stared at the housekeeper for a full minute before speaking, and even then, all he could say was, “Baby?”
“It’s not a surprise to you, surely?” the housekeeper said with a knowing look that made him blush.
“She hasn’t said a word to me about it,” he replied in his defense.
She hadn’t said a word to him about it.
Maybe she feared he wouldn’t be pleased or that he’d be like his own father, cold and stern and distant.
Mrs. Wessex reached out and patted his hand, the gesture a bit familiar for a servant, even one of long standing, but welcome, too. “She might not be sure yet.”
That explanation eased the worst of his dismay and he put his hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
A sympathetic look came to Mrs. Wessex’s features. “Being with child makes a woman’s feelings as rough as the sea in a storm, so be gentle with her, Sir Dev
elin. She’s a sweet thing, and a good mistress, and she cares for you a great deal. You mustn’t think that because she doesn’t say so she doesn’t feel it. She’s the same as you that way, I expect.”
Dev felt the heat of a blush. No, he had never told Thea how he felt. How could he, when he hadn’t been sure himself until she went away?
What if she didn’t feel the same way about him? Suppose she still considered their marriage a bargain of mutual convenience? Would it be wise to let her know how his feelings had changed and how easily she could break his heart?
Or should he keep that to himself, as he had so many other things?
Chapter Sixteen
Regardless of what Mrs. Wessex thought about the need to send for a physician, Dev took matters into his own hands and sent one of the footman to the village to ask Dr. Havish to come as soon as possible.
The doctor immediately obliged and it was clear he’d been given to understand he was urgently required.
“My wife hasn’t fallen seriously ill,” Dev hastened to explain to the middle-aged physician as the doctor handed his greatcoat to the butler, “or at least, I hope not. I’ve just found out she’s with child and—”
“Like most first-time fathers, you’re worried,” the doctor said with a sympathetic smile, picking up his medical bag.
“Yes. I’m sorry if I’ve unnecessarily called you away from a more serious case.”
“It’s quite all right, Sir Develin,” Dr. Havish said, his shrewd eyes gleaming. “In fact, you’ve saved me from having to listen to Lady Byford extol the virtues of the latest elixir some charlatan has sold her. Fortunately the ingredients are harmless. Now, if you’ll be so good as to direct me to your wife...?”
Dev started for the stairs. “We’ve been out of town,” he said, trying not to look as ashamed as he felt. He should have paid more attention to Thea’s physical state before he went to London. “I fear she may have overtaxed her strength.”
“I wouldn’t worry, Sir Develin. Weariness is to be expected in her condition.”
When they reached Thea’s bedroom, the doctor spoke before Dev opened the door. “I find it best to examine the ladies alone, Sir Develin. They tend to be more forthcoming that way. I’ll speak to you when I’ve finished.”
A Marriage of Rogues Page 19