by Golden Angel
Ignoring their continued coaxing, which quickly devolved to threats, Delilah went to the window. The alley was just as narrow and foul as ever, but it was also her most likely means of escape. Very carefully, she lifted the window, wincing as the wood squeaked, but the twins did not seem to notice. They were arguing in heated whispers about the best way to obtain Delilah’s cooperation. Amy thought Delilah could be convinced to talk to them, Sylvie thought they should steal Lady Felton’s key.
Coughing slightly at the increased smell, Delilah looked down. It was a very long way to the ground—two stories and nothing to break her fall if she jumped. Breaking her limbs would certainly not further her goals. Turning, she scanned the sparse room, her eyes coming to rest on the bed. Once, long ago, she had read a penny romance where the heroine used strips of bedsheets tied together to escape from an evil baron, who wanted to force her to marry him. The heroine had escaped from a tower. Surely, the second story of a house should be easier.
Striding over to the bed, she yanked back the thin blanket and dragged the bedsheet onto the floor, looking at it dubiously. Shrugging, she began pulling at it until she found a spot that was weak, then began tearing. Halfway through, she realized she could no longer hear Amy and Sylvie’s whispers. Hopefully, they had given up completely, rather than dare Lady Felton’s ire to steal the key.
Grimly, Delilah decided she had enough strips to begin tying them together. Hopefully, they would be long enough. If the twins did return with the key and found her tearing the sheets apart, things would not go very well for her. Her fingers were beginning to cramp from all the pulling, but she did not let herself stop. Whatever Lady Felton had planned for her for tomorrow, Delilah did not want to find out.
Once the string of bedsheets seemed long enough, she tied one end around the bedpost, the sturdiest piece of furniture in the room, and carried the bundle of knotted strips to the window. She did not know what time it was, but she thought it likely past the hour when the hell closed. Her eyes felt sticky with exhaustion, but she felt happiness swell when the bundle of strips unraveled out the window, and she looked down to see the end came very close to the ground. Happiness, hope, and something like spite when she thought about Lady Felton’s reaction to finding an empty room with a mangled bed rather than a contrite ward.
Laughter bubbled up as she threw her leg over the sill, clutching a large knot on the sheets with fingers that ached.
Oh, how she had changed in just a short period of time.
Wrapping her arms and legs around the sheets, she began to slowly let herself slip down. It was both exhilarating and frightening as she descended, the ground coming closer and closer. Her muscles were trembling, and it was all she could do to hang on. Likely why she did not notice anyone else was in the alley until they grabbed her—and she let out a shrill scream.
The Tramp
After sending Butch to fetch Frank from the gaol, Henry went to collect Lord Verisy’s debts, thankful for his foresight on the matter. Part of him longed to hunt down Roddy and deal with him, but Delilah came first. Even above his own reputation.
If one hair on Delilah’s head had been harmed, well, he could not be held accountable for his actions. He would wreak havoc on Felton House and Bow Street alike. If Roddy was smart, he was already long gone. If he was not, there would be nothing stopping Henry from meting out harsh punishment for his part in Delilah’s capture. While he might not have been directly involved, he’d clearly heard of the missing debutante and put two and two together.
With ten of his men behind him, Henry stormed down the streets of Mayfair, not caring who saw him. Let this be a lesson to anyone who dared take what was his. There were not many people to witness at this early morning hour, mostly drunken nobles stumbling home after an evening of debauchery, but several came to an abrupt halt when they saw him and his men. Recognition flashed across most of their faces—and fear. They were scared he was there for them. Their abject relief when he passed them by would have been amusing under other circumstances.
Coming to the front door of Felton House, he banged the knocker loudly and kept banging until the door opened, and a harried servant stared at him. The man looked Henry up and down with an air of disbelief. Likely, no one dressed like him had ever dared pound on the door. Certainly not at nearly four in the morning. The servant’s gaze moved behind Henry, and his eyes widened at the sight of street toughs. He started to swing the door shut, but it was already too late.
Henry shouldered the door open with brute force, knocking the man back.
“Lady Felton.” Henry growled out her name. “Fetch her. Now.”
It turned out the order was unnecessary. Before the servant had reached the bottom of the grand staircase, the lady in question came sweeping down. Dressed in a flannel nightrail with a robe wrapped around her and a bonnet over her hair and braid, she acted as though she were dressed for an audience with the Regent.
“What on earth is happening? Who are you? Thomas, go fetch the Runners!”
Barking out a laugh, Henry crossed his arms in front of him and glared at the woman who had mistreated his pet. If she were not an old woman, he would have given her a sound thrashing. She certainly deserved it—but for one of her ilk, what he was about to do was likely worse.
“I am the Tramp.” He stepped forward with an air of menace that had her rocking back. The man who had opened the door actually squeaked, and Henry heard murmurs coming from further in the household. “I am the holder of your son’s wagering debts. And Lord Verisy is very in debt.”
A flash of panic flared in her eyes, and she gulped before lifting her chin. Likely, she did not have an exact idea of how far up the River Tick, her son was, but she knew enough to be worried. The ton considered paying such debts a matter of honor. Knowledge that the man had squandered so much of the family fortune would make things very difficult for everyone, including the two young ladies she was trying to marry off. Henry considered it a barrel of foolishness, but he understood how the ton worked, even if he thought it ridiculous. Here, at least, it certainly worked to his advantage.
“How much?” Her tone was icy, imperious, and likely made many a man quake in his boots. Unfortunately for her, Henry was made of sterner stuff, untouched by her displeasure.
The total sum made her gasp, her hand going to her chest. Her eyes unfocused, likely doing calculations in her head, and the first glimmerings of despair began to take hold in her expression.
“Luckily,” Henry said, holding out the metaphorical olive branch before she lost all hope. “You have something I want. Something I would like returned to me rather, with a promise you will never attempt to take her again.”
Momentary confusion gave way to revelation, and then an icy judgment. She sniffed disdainfully.
“I should have known—”
Holding up one hand, Henry cut her off, his face like granite.
“If you are wise, of which I am not convinced you are, you will keep your trap shut about my lady.”
She wanted to say something, but she pursed her lips together as if she’d just sucked a lemon before shaking her head.
“I cannot. My nephew is her guardian, and he has a responsibility to see her wed.”
“She’ll be wed,” Henry growled, cutting her off. “You will be able to tell your nephew, with all sincerity, that she was wed to an extremely wealthy, albeit without a title, gentleman.” Calculation flashed in her eyes, and he held up the stack of notes, all with Lord Verisy’s signature on them. “Consider this your incentive.” Lady Felton held out her hand, but Henry just raised his eyebrow. “My lady first.”
Bristling at the implication she was untrustworthy, Lady Felton waved her hand at the man who opened the door.
“Thomas, go fetch Miss Darling from her room. The key is on the ring in my room.”
The man rushed away up the stairs, looking relieved to be sent away from the increasingly uncomfortable standoff.
Lady Felton glared at him
. Henry ignored her, which seemed to aggravate her even more.
A clattering sound at the top of the stairs drew both of their attention, but it was not who Henry wished to see, and Lady Felton did not appear happy with the appearance of the two young women. Clearly twins, they were attractive enough, but neither of them drew him the way his pet did. They both looked at him with curious interest as they came rushing down the stairs.
“We heard someone banging on the door-”
“-and then voices-”
“Who is he, Grandmother?”
“What does he want?”
They talked so quickly, they were almost talking over each other, yet finishing each other’s thoughts. The effect was disturbing.
“He is none of your concern,” Lady Felton snapped, whirling around. “Back to bed.”
“But—”
“But—”
“Now!” The command came out as a roar as the woman vented all the frustration, she was holding inside on the two hapless young women rather than on Henry, the way she wanted to. However, she was almost immediately undercut by another knock on the door. Whirling around, she practically wailed. “Now what?”
Turning, Henry gestured at his man closest to the door, who nodded and opened it. It was a measure of Lady Felton’s distress she did not even protest, having a strange ruffian answer her door. Likely, whoever was there was just as unwelcome as Henry, given the hour.
The vision that appeared in the doorway was very welcome to Henry. His pet, being escorted by Butch, who gave him a wide grin as he led her into the house.
“Caught her climbing down from her window in the alley.”
Three feminine gasps behind Henry, one outraged and two of delighted shock, made him shake his head. Striding forward, he curled his arm around her, dragging her to him and dropping his lips to hers for a searing, claiming kiss. The gasps that had preceded his action were nothing to the ones that followed, all three utterly scandalized and horrified. They were not his concern, however.
Ending the kiss, he looked down at his lady, and she stared wonderingly back up at him.
“You came for me.”
“Of course, I did, pet,” he murmured, dropping another kiss to her forehead. “I will always come for you.” Bending, he upended her over his shoulder, tossing Lord Verisy’s notes to the floor.
“Well, I never,” Lady Felton exclaimed, while the two harpies behind her twittered and shrieked.
Henry glanced back at her. “You will never come near her again.”
He strode out the door, Butch and the rest of his men following.
13
The Tramp’s Lady
Just as the first time Henry had rescued her, Delilah felt as though she must be dreaming.
It was not until he tossed her over his shoulder, she was sure it was really happening and nearly wept for joy, feeling his broad, strong shoulder tucked firmly under her stomach. Some of the desire to weep might have been her exhaustion as well. When she heard the gasps from Lady Felton and the terrible twins, Delilah ended up giggling. She could only imagine the time Lady Felton would have, keeping the twins quiet about the events of the evening, and how much damage they could do to their family’s reputation if they did not. Whether they had the sense to realize this would reflect on them as well, she did not know, and she did not care. She was done with this life.
Whatever they brought upon themselves was not her concern.
Henry carried her out to the street to a waiting carriage. Curling up on the bench, she did not pay attention to whatever orders he gave the men who had come with him, she was just so relieved to be there. When Butch had first grabbed her, worried she was about to fall, she’d tumbled right into his arms in a state of complete panic. Realizing who was holding her, she’d practically begged him to take her to Henry—imagine her surprise when he escorted her to the front of Felton House instead. She’d been utterly bewildered, but too tired to react.
Seeing Henry standing inside of Felton House, facing off with Lady Felton for her… she realized she’d fallen completely, head-over-heels in love with the man. Whether he returned her regard, or he ever would, did not matter. She loved him and would happily be his lover, his pet. Hopefully, for the rest of her life.
Curled up on the comfortable seat of the carriage, Delilah was already dozing when she felt something shift. For a moment, she started to struggle, but then Henry’s deep voice soothed her. She could not make out his words, but they did not matter. What mattered was he was there, holding her, and she knew everything was going to be all right. Settling into his arms, she tucked her head onto his shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around her, and finally fell fast asleep.
The Tramp
His poor pet was so weary, Henry woke before her the next morning. Then again, despite the late hour they’d returned to his house, he had not exerted himself quite as much as she had. She had not even stirred when he’d transferred her from the carriage to the bed. Which was just as well.
He had things to do.
The Tramp’s Lady
“We’re what?” Delilah stared at Henry, sure she had misheard him. She was still very tired, despite sleeping until the early afternoon. She’d woken to a gentle kiss on her brow and gentle fingers stroking her hair. Then he’d pulled her from the bed and rather than her plug and collar, dressed her in an actual gown. It was a beautiful pale blue gown with a white lace overlay, although far lower cut than anything she’d ever worn as a debutante, and certainly, she’d never worn a gown with a slit up the side of the skirt. Rather than gathering her hair to each side of her head, he brushed it, then let it hang freely down her back.
Then he told her they were getting married.
“Married,” he said firmly, taking her by the hand and pulling her behind him to the door. It felt odd to be led this way, rather than by a leash. She followed him in a daze, still utterly baffled. “That way, in the eyes of the law, no one will ever be able to take you from me again.”
He did not trust Lady Felton, she realized. Truthfully, neither did Delilah. She had not thought past getting out of Lady Felton’s clutches, but it did not surprise her Henry had.
“But the banns...” They could not be married now. Not without eloping to Gretna Green, but that trip took days. Certainly, Henry could not be gone from his hells for so long, and it did not explain why he’d dressed her so prettily.
Butch and Frank were waiting for them in the hall, as usual, and Delilah shot both of them a smile. They grinned back at her, although Frank’s happy expression was a little marred by his black eye. Delilah felt a surge of guilt at the sight.
“We do not need banns,” Henry said, opening the door to his office and pulling her inside. There was a very nervous man waiting there for them, dressed in a cardinal’s robes. “Do we, Cardinal Burr?”
“No, no.” The cardinal shook his head, dabbing at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. In his other hand, he held a bible. “The Archbishop was happy to provide a Special License and thanks you for your very generous donation to the church.”
“A Special License?” Delilah asked, awed. She had heard of them, of course, but they were so rarely issued, most couples relied on Gretna Green if they were looking for a speedy marriage. How much money had Henry spent to procure one?
“For my special lady,” Henry said, curving his arm around her and bringing her forward. The cardinal gulped as they came closer, and Delilah realized he was afraid of Henry. She did not know whether to be horrified, awed, or amused. Why would a cardinal be afraid of Henry? How far did the Tramp’s reputation extend? No wonder he had originally thought he could keep her safe, with such connections. “Cardinal Burr, please.”
The ceremony was short, without any of the usual trappings and only Butch and Frank as their witnesses, but Delilah did not care. Her heart swelled as she looked up at Henry and vowed to love, honor, and obey him and nearly wept when he vowed to do the same—without the stipulation of obeying, of cour
se. Slipping a gold ring onto her finger, there was an almost manic gleam in his eye, the same way he looked at her when he put the collar around her throat but even more so.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The cardinal began to recite some scripture about love, but Henry waved his hand, bring him to an abrupt halt.
“Give us the registry, Cardinal,” Henry said, although his gaze was fixed on her. The cardinal seemed more relieved than aggravated at being interrupted. They signed their names, and it was done. Happiness welled inside of her as she gazed back at Henry. Her husband. A gentle look for her, then a harder one for the cardinal. “Consider your debt paid. Now, get out.”
The cardinal did not balk at Henry’s disrespectful tone, just scampered with an expression of supreme relief. Delilah’s jaw dropped open—the cardinal was a gambler?
She did not have more than a moment to reflect on that before Henry was sweeping her up into his arms. Not over his shoulder, the way he had the night before, but with one arm around her back and the other under her knees—the way a man might carry his bride across the threshold. She giggled wildly as he carried her up to his… their room.
The Tramp
Married.
He did not feel any different, other than relief Delilah was now legally, irrefutably his. He should have taken this step before, but in his arrogance, he had not truly thought it would be necessary. Not even after Bow Street began searching for her. Which reminded him, he still had Roddy to deal with, but that was for later.
Right now, he was going to fuck his wife. His pet. His cock had been hard as a rock since he’d first woken her, although he’d ignored its insistent demands.