Earl of Tempest: The Wicked Earls Club

by Anders, Annabelle

  “Then what are we waitin’ for?”

  “Knock ‘er out, will ya? She’s tryin’ to bite me and we can’t exactly carry ‘er through the streets screaming an’ ‘ollerin’, now can we?”

  Buck moved forward, flexing his fist, and Lydia realized that, for the first time in her life, she was going to be hit by another person. Terrified, she renewed her squirming and twisting and even managed to land a kick on the blighter behind her, but it was no use.

  The last thing she saw was a bloodied wrist flying toward her face. Her last thought was that Reginald and Trevor were not going to come in time to save her.

  And her last feeling was fear, not for herself, but for Ollie and Jeremy.

  And then everything turned black.

  Chapter 13

  “The bastard no doubt took for granted these records wouldn’t survive down here.” Baxter grimaced and then let out a low whistle. “How could Rudolph not have realized what his brother was up to?”

  “Rudolph never would have sold if he had.”

  Jeremy carefully examined a faded record and then tossed it aside. He’d suspected the records might be in Ludwig’s half flooded basements but hadn’t expected this.

  Each mildew-ridden box required meticulous care while opening; the first one having practically fallen apart in his hands when he’d moved to carry it to the offices upstairs.

  He flicked his gaze around the soggy basement. Considering the waterlines on the walls, as well as the bog-like floor, it was a wonder any records remained intact.

  That was why they were opening them in place and documenting items of significance in the shadowy lights of a few lanterns.

  He, Baxter, and a few of his clerks had been at it for hours and an alarming pattern was beginning to emerge. With Arthur on the front line, Jeremy had followed the progress of both sides diligently, religiously even, and each cluster of losses Ludwig Bros. incurred, had preceded unprecedented enemy victories. The timeline of events was too uncanny to be a coincidence.

  “So they were paid by the government to ship them and then took a second payment after handing supplies over to the insurgents.” Baxter shook his head. “Here’s more payments from Leo to Farley.” He set the receipt on an increasingly growing pile. Periodically, one of Jeremy’s trusted clerks would climb down the rickety steps to transport them upstairs.

  With each receipt found that didn’t list Arthur’s name, Jeremy was that much closer to his goal. He rubbed the back of his neck and carefully extracted another file just as the door at the top of the narrow stairway opened and closed. Rather than his clerk’s etched and tired-looking face, however, Lord Westerley appeared.

  He and his countess, as importers of American Whiskey, were very interested in wiping the docks clean of the current gang activity, and last night, the earl had offered up any assistance he could provide.

  “Damn, Tempest. I thought you’d be out by now.” Westerley had to bend over in order to avoid the overhead joists as he moved deeper into the dungeon-like room. “Why don’t you just have them brought upstairs?”

  In answer, Baxter lifted the corner of one of his rejected receipts, which promptly tore in two. “They might not make the trip that way.”

  Jeremy glanced at his time piece. He was going to have to send word to Lydia that he couldn’t escort her to the warehouse today. He could not leave this task unfinished. They were over halfway through the boxes and he’d not yet found any evidence that Arthur had been involved.

  All would be settled by tomorrow. And then he could ask her that all important question. She would understand.

  Jeremy cast off the receipt in his hand and took up another. It was dated almost two years ago, April 12th, 1828, and listed names that had become quite familiar to him by now. But there was a smudged one that he had not seen on any of the others.

  Jeremy lifted it closer to his eyes and squinted. His heart sank.

  * * *

  Coming awake, Lydia opened her eyes and saw… nothing. Was this a nightmare? She was blindfolded!

  And her hands were bound!

  Familiar sounds, that of a bell ringing, distant voices, and water splashing against the pier hinted that she was somewhere on the docks. A most pungent scent of tar, fish and filth confirmed her guess.

  The memory came rushing back to her of Ollie, and his brother, and the person who’d grabbed her from behind. She licked her lips and was thankful that whoever was keeping her captive had at least removed the gag.

  A sensation of motion, of rocking softly, gave away that she must be on one of the abandoned ships. It had to be where the gang bosses were hiding.

  How long had she been here? Hours? A day?

  Had only one night passed since she’d been sitting down to a lovely dinner with Mayfair’s elite?

  “Hello?” She tested her voice, even though she was fairly certain she was alone. It came out little more than a croak. “Can I have some water, please?” She waited, half afraid someone would answer her, but also half afraid that no one would.

  She was a woman who had been captured by unscrupulous individuals. Never had she been so aware of her own powerlessness. Never had she felt so vulnerable.

  A few minutes later, she heard a door open, and light filtered through the fabric covering her eyes.

  “’Ere.” A cup was pressed to her lips, and she had no choice but to tilt her head and swallow, spilling a good deal of the water in the process.

  It dribbled down her chin, onto her chest, and then gown. She was no longer wearing her coat. Someone had taken it off of her while she’d been unconscious.

  She shivered, not daring to allow herself to think about that.

  “Are you Ollie’s brother, Buck?” She lifted her chin as though she could sense where he was. There had to be some goodness in him if he was Ollie’s brother.

  “What’s it to ya?”

  “Where’s Ollie, is he all right?” She hadn’t been able to save him. In fact, she’d made matters worse. But she couldn’t focus on that right now.

  “He needs to learn ‘is place,” the boy grunted.

  “Why are you keeping me here? You should let me go before you end up in even more trouble than you’re already in.”

  “Ha,” he scoffed, but then lifted the drink to her mouth again. A breeze landed on her face and Buck turned away before she could attempt another sip.

  “She’s the one, ain’t she?” Ollie’s brother asked whoever had entered.

  “So pretty. Maybe we won’t have to off her.” Cold, rough hands grabbed ahold of hers. “We need to untie her though, so she can sign the note. Won’t do any good if Tempest doesn’t believe we have her.” The loosening around her wrists brought relief but as she realized their intentions, fear shot through her like a knife.

  They were going to ransom her. But for what?

  “You gonna kill the Earl o’Tempest, Farley? He right deserves it, for all the trouble he’s makin’.”

  And then something hard and cold pressed against her forehead. Not having seen it, nor ever having held one, she knew instinctively that this despicable person was threatening her with a pistol.

  “When that meddling nob shows up, Buck, I’m gonna shoot him—” He jammed the barrel into her head with even more force. “Right.” He pushed harder. “Between. The eyes.” He made a shooting sound with his mouth and then chuckled.

  She stopped breathing even though he’d said he wasn’t going to kill her. But he meant to kill Jeremy!

  She couldn’t allow that to happen. She’d rather die herself.

  She’d been so stupid to go outside alone!

  The person named Farley removed the gun from her head. But this only provided temporary relief. Buck was laughing as he moved behind her. He loosened the blindfold and then allowed it to drop.

  Light coming through the open door beat onto her pupils almost as though she was staring into the sun. But she blinked and forced herself to stare down at the floor. Light meant freedom cou
ldn’t be too far away.

  And with the door open, the dock sounds were louder. With watering eyes, she focused on her hands, unbound now, and flexed them in her lap.

  “We’re gonna need you to write a sweet letter begging your lover to save you.” Farley thrust a pencil into her hand.

  More laughter from Buck, and she glanced up. Farley wasn’t as young as she’d thought he would be. But perhaps just as living on the docks had caused Ollie to look younger, it had aged Farley prematurely.

  She hovered the tip of the pencil over the blank sheet of paper, but as she went to write, Ollie’s brother asked Farley a question that sent various facts clicking around in her brain.

  “Is he really Arthur’s brother?”

  Were they talking about Jeremy?

  Arthur Gilcrest had been captured in an ambush. An ambush where a fortune’s worth of ammunition had been stolen. The facts weren’t only clicking, but sparking and shooting now.

  “That he is. Got a right long stick up his arse though.”

  And Lucas had been Arthur’s commanding officer. Since he’d returned from the front, he’d been investigating the ambush and must have found something suspicious.

  Sitting and listening to Buch and Farley discussing Jeremy’s brother was providing answers to the questions that had taunted her for months.

  The day Jeremy came to offer for her, Lucas must have told Jeremy he suspected Arthur was a traitor.

  That day, when she’d told him that Ollie shouldn’t have to turn his back on his brother, Jeremy had said… That’s why… But then he’d stopped. He’d told her he’d never wanted her to have to decide, that it wouldn’t have been fair. She’d been half-right to guess that Jeremy had not wanted her to have to turn her back on her brothers. But the choice wouldn’t have been between her brothers and herself. It would have been between her brothers and Jeremy.

  Jeremy hadn’t wanted her to have to choose between her family and the man she loved. That was why…

  Oh Jeremy!

  Arthur had always been Jeremy’s weak spot. And when faced with something so contemptable as the accusation that Arthur had betrayed his own countrymen, Jeremy hadn’t been able to believe it.

  Lydia nearly sobbed as she grasped the truth. The purchase of Ludwig Shipping hadn’t been about cleaning up the docks at all. It had been all about clearing his brother’s name.

  And that was not going to happen. Because Arthur had been a traitor.

  “What are you waiting for?” Farley nudged her arm, his foul breath nearly making her gag. She shook her head.

  Lydia’s realization had left her stunned and unable to think about anything else.

  “I… I don’t know what to write.” The sound of her own voice jolted her back to the present.

  A plan. She needed a plan and in order to come up with one, she needed to keep her wits about her.

  Farley drew up a chair and sat down, crossing his legs and lounging in a manner that ought to be far too relaxed for the situation.

  “To my Darling Earl of Tempest,” he dictated and then dropped his foot and leaned forward. “Go on, now. Write it.”

  She did just that, in flowery, looping letters. She realized as he watched her that he couldn’t make out her words.

  He was uneducated and if he did know how to read, he’d only have comprehension of the most rudimentary of letters.

  “Now what?” she asked innocently.

  “If you wanna see me alive again, you go to the Tuesday warehouse at sunset tonight. Alone. If ya do anything stupid, they’ll kill me.” And then he sniggered. “If ya ever wan’ another taste o’ me you best do what they want. And sign it, yer loving lady.”

  Lydia wrote instead: I’m being held captive on one of the abandoned ships near the broken pier. Farley and his men will be waiting for you at the warehouse at sunset but that’s a trap. He wants to kill you. Please be careful and if anything happens to me, know that I’ve always loved you. Yours forever, Lydia.

  Feeling hesitant, and a little concerned that Farley could read it after all, she glanced up. “Anything else?”

  “Na, just fold it up and seal it with a kiss.” He waved his gun in the air, laughing.

  Lydia did precisely that and handed it over.

  “Noah!” he shouted out the door and an older version of Buck appeared in the opening. “Make sure this gits to Tempest. An’ don’t ya let no one follow you.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Noah tucked the note into his shirt and disappeared. And another when Farley handed the gun to Buck.

  “Take this.” With his hands free, Farley then grasped tight hold of her wrists and tied her hands in front of her again. “If she does anything stupid, shoot her. But not in the head or the body. She’s more use to us if she’s alive for now. If anyone else comes, though. Shoot them in the head.”

  “Not the heart?” Buck asked.

  “Wherever.” Farley sent Buck an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Just be sure they end up swimmin’ with the fishes.”

  “Understood, boss.”

  Farley strode toward the door and then halted, jerking around to pin his gaze on her. “You nobs should have minded yer own business.”

  She wanted nothing more than to scream back at him. Because when the thieves had begun stealing the soldiers’ supplies, they’d put the entire country in danger, making it everyone’s business.

  “How did you get Arthur to do it?” she asked instead.

  “Bought ‘his vowels, how else? Every man has his weakness. Funny thing is, Tempest’s little brother wasn’t loyal to no one. Fickle as ‘ell, he was.” And with that, Farley stepped outside and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone with Buck again.

  With Buck and the gun.

  Lydia exhaled a slow breath. If Arthur hadn’t been loyal to Farley, it meant he’d regretted his actions at some point. That had to mean something.

  She glanced over at Buck, who was staring down the barrel of the pistol as though trying to comprehend how it worked.

  Perhaps knowing Arthur had been coerced into his treachery would help Jeremy reconcile himself to it. She only hoped she’d stay alive long enough to tell him.

  Chapter 14

  “I hate to interrupt, but I think we might have a problem.” Westerley’s tone was serious enough that it demanded Jeremy’s unfettered attention.

  “On the docks?” Jeremy glanced up, feeling the walls of the basement suddenly closing in around him.

  Westerly nodded. “Word’s out that you intend to clean house. We knew they’d fight back, but something’s brewing around the old ship we believe to be their headquarters.”

  Baxter turned to Jeremy. “We can’t delay the raid, not unless we’re willing to risk the whole lot of them getting away.”

  “Agreed. The gang bosses would only set up somewhere else.”

  The club owner was already rising from the crate where he’d been seated. “I’ll send word to my men.”

  Sounds of more descending footsteps echoed in the room and this time, it was one of Jeremy’s clerks, Smithy, who came into view. But he was not alone.

  The very last person Jeremy wanted or expected to see in the dimly lit basement appeared behind him, a man he’d once considered practically a brother. Jeremy narrowed his eyes at Blackheart.

  With hawkish features and hair so dark it was almost black, even in a dingy and foul-smelling cellar, the duke managed to exude the arrogance that had been bred into him.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Blackheart?” Jeremy stretched to see around this unwanted visitor, but apparently, he’d come alone. “Lucas isn’t with you?”

  Lydia’s brother held up both hands, chuckling softly. “I come in peace.” He glanced around with a sardonic lift of his brow. “And felicitations on a most interesting acquisition.”

  Jeremy inhaled deeply and then glanced down at his fob watch again. This day, it seemed, wasn’t going at all as planned. When he failed to show at Heart Place
to collect her, would she think he was avoiding her again?

  “Not necessary,” he answered dismissively. He needed someone to tell Lydia he wasn’t coming. He fisted his hands.

  “Ah, but it is.” Blackheart stepped further into the room, his boots making a squishing sound as he did so. “Lucas is backing down. And seeing as you’re in a war of sorts, and we’re all on the same side, I’ve come to offer our support. Whatever you need. If it’s within the realm of my capabilities, I’ll provide it.”

  Jeremy paused. As much as he wanted to, he was in no position to refuse Blackheart’s offer of help. This was no longer just about him. It was about protecting not only an orphanage or the docks but England itself.

  He glanced down at the incriminating receipt in his hand and swallowed hard, practically choking on his shame.

  “You were right.” Jeremy forced himself to look up into Blackheart’s eyes. “Arthur’s betrayal wasn’t limited to his family, or his wife, or his brother.” In that moment it felt as though his heart turned into a void as dark as this basement. It was over. “He betrayed Lucas that day.” Not only Lucas, but every man whose life had been on the line. He’d been the reason five of them had died.

  “Arthur was a traitor.” Jeremy said.

  Arthur had betrayed his country. The truth echoed in his head like a death knoll but then completed the puzzle perfectly. His brother had committed treason.

  Jeremy had not wanted to believe it. But he’d known. Somehow deep in his heart he had known.

  His own blood…

  “He was.” Blackheart didn’t blink as he stood there and agreed with him. “I’m sorry, Temp.”

  Jeremy dragged his gaze around the dank room where he’d so badly wanted to discover evidence that would exculpate Arthur. He had needed that proof.

  He’d needed it to silence his own suspicions.

  Defeated, he ran a hand through his hair. He’d been a fool—an idiot. Where did he go from here? His family name, the title his sons would one day inherit, would be forever blackened.