“Whadda we ‘ave ‘ere?”
The man who spoke was dressed in a well-worn suit and wore a patched hat upon his balding head. While not as menacing as the villainous Smithwick, Aurelia felt a rush of apprehension as this newcomer eyed them both with beady, calculating eyes.
“We are looking for the Theatre Royal my dear,” Lydia said nonchalantly, slipping over to stand beside Aurelia who had lost the ability of speech.
“You an actress?” the beady eyed man licked his lips, looking unconvinced; “Neither of you look like actresses.”
“I can assure you my good man we are,” Lydia replied, the ostrich feather on her turban bobbing with indignation; “We simply lost our way on the way to rehearsals. Are you a fan of Shakespeare?”
The man gave a snort, and walked around them in a menacing circle, apparently he was not a fan of The Bard.
“I don’t think you’re actresses,” he said glancing between the two girls; “I think one of you is Miss Aurelia St. Claire, and the other one is the batty daughter of the mad Earl of Galway – but who’s who I can’t tell.”
Aurelia grabbed Lydia’s arm as she started with indignation at the insult leveled at her father. If this man knew Lydia’s name, then that meant that she was being followed.
“Who is worth more to you?” Aurelia asked, her voice sounding much more assured than she felt. The question seemed to stump the man, who scratched his whiskered chin.
“There’s a cash reward for the return of Miss St. Claire to the Baron of Epsom,” the man said, his greedy eyes lighting up at the thought.
“How much?” Aurelia asked casually, hoping that their captor couldn’t see the beads of anxious perspiration forming on her forehead.
“More than a month’s wages with the Runners,” came the swift reply. He must be an agent from Bow Street Aurelia deduced, though the reek of gin suggested that he wasn’t a particularly good one.
“That’s probably not much,” she replied with an exaggerated snooty sniff, a plan forming in her mind; “My father – the mad Earl as you called him – would pay a king’s ransom for me.”
“So you’re Loopy Lady Beaufort?” the man said, an evil smile lighting up his face as he visualized the riches she might bring him.
“Er, yes,” Aurelia agreed, not daring to glance at Lydia, who had emitted a squeak of rage at the less than complimentary moniker.
Her answer caused a cacophony of emotion to play across their captors face as he glanced between Aurelia and the real Lady Beaufort. She could almost hear his thoughts; should he pick the less valuable Miss St. Claire or go for the prize catch of Lady Beaufort?
“Why don’t I just take both of you?” he mused aloud.
“Because you’d never be able to drag the two of us off to wherever your hovel of a home is,” Aurelia snapped, hopping that her plan would not backfire on her.
“You shut your mouth,” the man snarled, grabbing Aurelia by the arm, his pudgy fingers pinching her painfully. In doing so he created an opening for Lydia to slip past him, which she did hesitantly, only after Aurelia had urged her to run.
“Find Henry!” she screamed at her friend, who was running hell for leather down the narrow alleyway and back to Covent Garden and Henry.
“Shur’up screaming,” the man roared, evidently shaken by the turn of events. He had arrived thinking that he was going to catch a runaway, and he now thought that he had kidnapped the daughter of an Earl.
“This way,” he muttered darkly, dragging Aurelia down an even darker dingier alleyway. He was sweating profusely now as he pushed her down a maze of empty streets, whose houses leaned drunkenly against each other. From the smell and the sheer dirt of the place Aurelia realised that he was taking her away from the centre of town and back towards the slums of St. Giles, which she might never escape from.
CHAPTER SIX
.
Sebastian had never felt a rage quite like it – though at whom it was directed he could not say. Was it his half cousin, for allowing Miss St . Claire to lead them away from the safety of Mayfair?
Yes.
Was it the villain who had absconded with Aurelia St. Claire?
Yes.
Or was it Miss St. Claire herself, for pretending to be Lydia and allowing herself to be kidnapped.
Yes. Yes and yes again.
I shall ring her neck, Sebastian thought darkly as he ran through the streets of Covent Garden towards the Seven Dials. When he and Sutherland had called to Mayfair only to discover the two ladies were missing, he had been livid and they had arrived in Covent Garden at the same time as a distressed Lydia had returned to the carriage, gibbering about a villain in a tweed suit.
“He said he was a Bow Street Runner,” Lydia garbled; “He smelled like gin and he wore a suit of mustard tweed.”
“Bowsby.”
The image of a man in tweed, who had once been a Runner, but now acted as the muscle for some of London’s money-lenders, flashed before Sebastian’s eyes. Without a seconds hesitation he had headed straight for the Holy Land, as St. Giles’ was often called, the Marquess hot on his heels.
“I know he keeps a place of Church Street,” Sebastian said grimly, once Gabe had caught up with him; “Lodges with a Mrs. Brown. He acts as a sort of guard for her girls in exchange for a bed.”
Her “girls” were the women who worked in the brothel Mrs. Brown ran; Sebastian shuddered at the thought of Aurelia being exposed to such an establishment.
Church Street was one of the more solid streets in St. Giles’. Its buildings were mostly made of brick, and some even had most of their windows intact.
“That’s it,” Sebastian nodded to the house on the corner, familiar to him from his childhood. The redbrick building, was three stories high, though it roof was sagging – making it appear smaller than its neighbour. The outside walls were stained from soot and smoke and the windows, all mostly intact, were blacked out by curtains.
“Not exactly a romantic venue,” Sutherland said, wrinkling his nose; “I can’t say that décor would act as an aphrodisiac to the clientele.”
“I think gin and meade act as an aphrodisiac Gabe,” he replied, rolling his eyes; “What I want to know is if our Miss St. Claire is already in the building.”
“Do you think I should knock and ask if they could supply me with a blonde aristocratic girl?” Sutherland suggested, laughing at his own joke before quickly falling silent at Sebastian’s glare.
“Just a joke old friend,” the Marquess said hastily; “I say we just knock down the door – the law is on our side – he’s kidnapped the chit!”
“Hold your horses for a moment Gabe while I think of a plan,” Sebastian said quietly, closing his eyes to try and visualise how they would go about saving Aurelia. He could almost hear her shrieks in his head, he thought absently, before his eyes snapped open.
It wasn’t his imagination; it was Aurelia!
She was being dragged along Church Street by the arm, by the mustard-suited Bowsby – though she was struggling against him and valiantly halting his efforts.
A haze of white rage seemed to impair Sebastian’s vision as he tore down the road towards the pair, Sutherland hot on his heels.
“Unhand her you fiend,” Sebastian heard himself roar, before launching himself at the gin-soaked sod that had kidnapped Aurelia. His fists hammered against the man’s fleshy face until Sutherland, alarmed by the ferocity of Sebastian’s anger, pulled him back.
“Calm down Black or you’ll kill him,” Sutherland said, placing himself between Sebastian and the villainous Bowsby.
“Death is more than this scum deserves,” Sebastian retorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He hadn’t been involved in a brawl since he was a young hooligan, running wild with the other criminal youths of St. Giles’. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and it was only the pale, startled face of Miss St. Claire that brought him back to reality.
“Miss St. Claire,” he said, inclining his h
ead towards her, his breathing still ragged from exertion.
“Mr. Black,” she replied, her voice faint; “And Lord Sutherland – thank you for rescuing me yet again.”
A moment’s silence ensued, in which the only sound that could be heard was Sebastian’s laboured breathing.
“I thought you was that batty Beaufort girl?” Bowsby groaned, slumped against the wall, defeated, and bruised from Sebastian’s blows.
Aurelia step forward and delivered a resounding slap to the drunk man’s face.
“Lady Beaufort is not batty,” she said with a sniff, much to the amusement of her two rescuers; “She is a romantic and an eccentric.”
With a toss of her curls, Aurelia stalked away – forcing Sebastian and the Marquess to follow her.
Miss St. Claire was the only member of the party traveling in the carriage back to Mayfair, who seemed to feel the rage that was emanating from Sebastian in waves. He glared darkly at his cousin and Lord Sutherland who, now that danger had passed, were quarreling amicably about the fortune tellers found around the Seven Dials.
“Enough,” Sebastian barked, causing Miss St. Claire to start. He glared from her to his cousin, hoping his gaze was suitably forbidding; “Did neither of you think of your safety when you took off on this hare-brained scheme?”
Both women shook their heads mutely, their eyes focused on their gloved hands which rested on their laps.
“And I don’t think I need to spell out what a dissolute area of London you were running amok in,” Sebastian continued pompously; “Did either of you even stop to consider your reputations?”
His remark was a scolding too far apparently for Lydia, who snorted with derision. Even Gabriel raised an incredulous eyebrow – since when had Sebastian Black ever given a jot for Societal Rules and Ladies’ Reputations?
“Well I’m right,” he said, trying to keep the petulant tone from his voice as the pair opposite him chuckled with amused laughter; “I know you don’t care for finding a husband Lydia, but what about Miss St. Claire? If she had been sighted leaving a house of ill repute, her name would have been ruined forever more.”
Silence followed his statement and all three of his companions took a moment to ruminate on what he had said. Aurelia was smoothing the skirts of her day dress repeatedly, trying to iron out a crease that had formed with the palm of her hand.
“I fear my Uncle may have already shuttered my chances of a good match,” she said delicately, still smoothing her skirts, not meeting his eye. “But I care not for that now. I believe that Theo is alive even more fervently than I did this morning – my Uncle would not have offered so much money for my return was it not so.”
Sebastian nodded; he was inclined to agree with Miss. St. Claire, but their arrival at the Mayfair home of the Dowager Duchess prevented him from saying so. Sebastian took Miss St. Claire’s hand in his as he helped her alight the carriage onto the footpath, enjoying holding her small gloved hand even momentarily.
“I think that we have much to discuss,” he began to say – but was cut off by the sound of wailing, as her Grace’s housekeeper opened the front door, sobbing hysterically, and threw herself at Lydia.
“Thank goodness you’ve returned,” the woman cried,wrapping her meaty arms around Lydia’s shoulders, crushing her in a vice like hug; “We thought you might have been kidnapped. The whole house has been ransacked…”
Sebastian looked at Gabriel in alarm.
“Stay here,” he commanded the three women, and beckoned his friend to follow him inside, where they found the house in total disarray. Cushions had been ripped apart, chairs upended and the floor of the drawing room was littered with shattered glass from the large bay window where the intruders had made their entrance.
“Looks like the Lord Epsom means business,” Sutherland said surveying the scene of chaos, his usual cheerful countenance grim.
“Indeed,” Sebastian replied darkly. If the Baron of Epsom wanted to wage a war against Aurelia St. Claire he’d first have to attack Sebastian. And if there was one thing Sebastian wasn’t afraid of – it was a fight.
“Oh dear,” Aurelia said, fighting the feelings of distress which threatened to overwhelm her; “I am so sorry Lady Lydia – none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me.”
They were in the drawing room, which was rather breezy due to the shattered window panes, checking to see if any valuables had been taken.
“What will your Aunt say?” Aurelia continued, referring to the Dowager Duchess who was thankfully “out” for the morning.
“Oh don’t worry about Aunt Tibbs,” Lydia responded cheerfully, distracted by an article in the newspaper which she had retrieved from the floor. “She’s out showing off her new protégé Isabella to the ladies of the ton. It will be like nothing ever happened by the time she returns.”
Indeed, the servants – instructed by Mr. Black – were now trooping through the house, preparing to clean every nook and cranny.
“I’ve sent the footman to fetch a window fitter,” Mr. Black said brusquely to his cousin; “Can you go to the library and find the master key for the window locks, the cook says it is in your Aunts bureau.”
Lydia, unused to being bossed around by anyone, gave a martyred sigh and clumped out of the room, leaving Aurelia alone with Mr. Black.
“I have discussed it with Sutherland and we have both decided that you would be safer living under his roof, ostensibly as his sister’s companion,” Sebastian said once his cousin was out of earshot. “I won’t risk your safety or Lydia’s by leaving you here one more night. It’s not safe leaving you alone in a house full of only females. I want you close by so that I can keep an eye on you, make sure you’re safe.”
He spoke with a note of finality that didn’t broker any arguing, though Aurelia felt she ought to protest.
“Really Mr. Black,” she said, trying to avoid his intense blue gaze; “ I couldn’t impose on Lady Caroline like that. I think it would be better for everyone involved if I just took myself to an inn and procured a room until I find Theo. I can conduct my search from there.”
Aurelia lifted her skirts and made to follow Lydia from the room, but Sebastian reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her gently towards him, so that his face gazed down at hers.
“I won’t hear any arguments Aurelia,” he said, the familiarity of his tone causing her to blush. “I want you tucked safely away in St. James’ tonight, and every night until we figure out what exactly is going on.”
Their bodies were so close that Aurelia could feel the heat rising from him, and his hand on her bare wrist was sending shivers of awareness through her whole frame. Through a cloud of tumultuous, unfamiliar feelings Aurelia’s gaze met Sebastian’s and they both stilled in shock, as they both recognised the desire reflected in each other’s eyes.
The tick of the clock and the sudden hitch of her breath was all that Aurelia could hear. Her mouth parted as Sebastian lowered his head to hers, his blue eyes dark now with passion.
“He’s going to kiss me,” Aurelia thought with shock. And she wanted him to. She needed him to.
“ – here’s the key Sebastian,” Lydia said returning loudly to the room, swiftly followed by the Marquess who was querying – half to himself - if it was de trope to ask the maid to pack Aurelia’s belongings up.
“Wouldn’t want to cause a scandal,” Sutherland said, before adding as a barely audible, embarrassed aside: “Again….”
Sebastian dropped Aurelia’s wrist, and they both sprang apart as though boiling water had been thrown over them. Both the Marquess and Lady Lydia glanced between the pair with suspicion, but before they could ask any questions the workmen arrived, filling the house with echoing Cockney accents as they made their way into the entrance hall.
“That’ll be the window fitter,” Sebastian said absently, leaving the room in a hurry. Aurelia refused to meet the concerned gaze he gave her as he left and she instead turned to Lydia to tell her the news of her de
parture to St. James’.
“Oh lud,” the dark-haired girl said, sadly surveying the chaotic scene in the drawing room; “I was rather enjoying having you stay Aurelia, you really liven things up.”
“I’m sure that my sister will be able to spare Miss St. Claire if you ever need to be entertained by a mornings kidnapping,” the Marquess said cheerfully – ignoring the dour look Lydia gave him in response; “But I really can’t take any more excitement for the day, so if you ladies will kindly fetch Miss St. Claire’s belongings we shall be on our way…”
In his own way, Aurelia mused as she made her way up the stairs, the Marquess was just as commanding as Sebastian Black…though he didn’t make her shiver with fear. No, she corrected herself, anticipation.
CHAPTER SEVEN
.
Once that Sebastian was sure that Aurelia was safe and settled in Sutherland House, he set forth to find out as much as he could about the Baron of Epsom. His first port of call was the gaming hell in Pickering Place, of which he was proprietor. Pickering Place was a courtyard just off James Street, which one accessed by passing through a discreet arched tunnel beside the premises of Berry Brother’s Wine Merchants. The dark passage then opened out onto a cobblestone courtyard with a sundial at its centre. The charming looking brown-stone houses which lined the tiny courtyard, were not homes of the lesser gentry as one would presume, but rather dens of iniquity, vice, and gambling – with Sebastian’s own gaming rooms, Nuit Noire , being the most exclusive of all.
“Afternoon Smithy,” he called to the doorman as he let himself into the building. At this time of the day the rooms were quiet and only a skeleton staff manned the building.
“Afternoon Sir,” the doorman replied, standing to swift attention at the sight of the owner.
“Is Briggs around?” Sebastian asked casually; Briggs was the general manager of Nuit Noire. Another alumnus of St. Giles’ Briggs knew every thief and crook in London, and his criminal knowledge made him the perfect candidate to handle any issues with their aristocratic clientele – who were often the biggest crooks of them all.
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