Once a Courtesan (Once Wicked Book 2)

by Liana Lefey

  Releasing her, he turned to peer back down the dark street. Lightning flickered briefly, illuminating it. Though he could see nothing, his neck prickled ominously. “I think you’re right and we had better get inside. If the men you shot came to the front, then they meant to open the door and let others in. If they see it open now…”

  Once everyone was safely in and the door again secured, he went over to the two men sprawled on the foyer floor. One was plainly dead. The other groaned when he toed him. “How many of you got in?”

  No answer.

  Patience was in short supply. Drawing back his foot, he kicked the man hard in the side. Ignoring his howl of outraged agony, Will again inquired.

  “F-four!” The prone man thrust out a hand to ward off further blows.

  Turning to those gathered around, Will addressed them. “Gerald and Thomas, you and Peg go with these women—Jacqueline, I’m assuming you have everyone gathered in a safe place?”

  “The dining hall,” she answered, flinching as a loud rumble of thunder shook the floor beneath them. “There is only one way in now. The kitchen door to the courtyard has been sealed and barricaded. We also collapsed the wall between the inner court and the outer yard.”

  A sound like pebbles hitting the door told him the rain had come.

  “The fire will soon be put out,” said one of the women softly. “They’ll come for the gate again.”

  “Unlikely in this deluge,” muttered Richards.

  Will nodded. “But two of the enemy remain unaccounted for. Richards, you and Loxdon come with me. We must hunt them down.”

  “I’m coming with you,” said Jacqueline.

  Grasping her shoulders, Will peered into her eyes. “No. Go with the others and defend the girls. I’ll come as soon as I’m certain all is secure.”

  “What if he lied?” she said, pointing to the man on the floor. “What if more than four got in?”

  “Then we’ll deal with them. Go.”

  “Come,” said Peg, putting her arm around Jacqueline’s shoulders and guiding her away. “We must protect the children.”

  Will nodded thanks to her and turned back to Loxdon and Richards. “Be sharp and keep your eyes open. She may be right, there might be more of them.”

  “I can get it out of this one if you like,” said Richards, nodding down at the bleeding fellow on the floor beside him and sliding one of his knives from its sheath.

  “We’ve no time,” Will replied, taking out a key and tossing it over to him. “Tie him up and lock him in there.” He jerked his chin toward his temporary sleeping quarters. “If he dies while we’re taking care of his fellows, that’s one we won’t have to be concerned with later. If he manages not to bleed to death, then Horton can look after him when he has a moment.”

  Bending, Richards took the prone man by the collar and dragged him away under protest. As soon as he returned, the three set out. Starting with the ground floor, they swept the school.

  Will reached the top of the stairs to the second floor, and the plaster by his left ear exploded. Dropping, he waited until the pounding of blood in his ears subsided. The hoarsely whispered words of what sounded like an argument—between three men—echoed back.

  The blackguard downstairs had lied.

  I hope the bastard dies, because if he’s still alive when I’m finished up here…

  Quiet as a mouse, Loxdon crawled up and gestured for him to take the left while he took the right. Richards would bring up the rear.

  Careful not to make any noise, both men stood and edged up to the opening. At Will’s nod, they leaned out, guns at the ready. Two shots rang out, and he heard Loxdon curse.

  Seeing nothing before him at which to shoot, Will spun about, but Richards had made it up and was in his line of fire. He could only watch as Richards’s blades whipped in and out, glinting in the low lamplight as he turned and ducked, slashed and stabbed.

  Another shot was fired, but from whose gun it came, Will couldn’t tell. No one fell, which meant they’d missed. A moment later, Loxdon kneed one assailant, sending him tumbling down the stairs. Will moved aside as his friend leaped down after the fellow. Now he could see that one of the shots fired had hit its mark. An invader lay crumpled in the hall, a dark pool slowly spreading from beneath his body across the floorboards.

  Hearing a pained grunt, he turned in time to see Richards shove a man off his blade. The intruder slumped to the floor and didn’t rise.

  “Any more of them, do you think?” asked Richards.

  “I’ve no idea,” he said truthfully. “If so, then they’re in a different part of the school.” Going to the stairwell, he peered down. All was silent. “Loxdon?”

  “Here,” replied his friend, looking up from the bottom. “I think this fellow’s back is broken. Claims he cannot move his legs. I’ve taken his weapons and tied him up to be sure.”

  “Stay there with him and guard the stairs,” Will called softly. “See if you can get any information out of him,” he added. He then motioned for Richards to take the left hall, while he took the right. When they met in the middle on the opposite side with no incident a few minutes later, he let Richards take the lead on the narrow staircase leading to the servants’ quarters.

  They quickly found the gabled window where the men had gotten in. The rain would’ve all but extinguished the fire by now, but it would also make getting across the rooftop a slick, treacherous business. Together, they barricaded the window to help delay another incursion.

  Returning to the second level stairwell, he paused before going down. “Loxdon?”

  “Still here,” replied Loxdon from below. “I’m alone now.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Not a bloody word.”

  Damn. He looked at Richards. “Well, at least we don’t have to carry him.” It earned a dry chuckle. On checking the one in his room, he discovered him dead, as well.

  Jacqueline was keen to know what had happened. “Did you encounter any more of them?”

  “Three,” he answered. “All dead. We blocked their point of entry, but we should be prepared in the event another attempt is made.”

  “I doubt they’ll do so in the rain,” she replied, echoing his earlier thoughts. “The roof is too steep.” She swayed a little and caught herself on the back of a nearby chair. “When Monsieur MacCallum and his men arrive in the morning, we will have them ensure no one else can get in that way.”

  Will didn’t mention that the rain might keep them away. “You should take some rest,” he told her, marking the dark circles under her eyes. “I’ll keep watch.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot until this is over.”

  “I know how you feel, but if you don’t get some sleep you’ll be in no condition to face your enemy. Rest while you can.” He took up her hand and brought it to his lips. “Dawn is around the corner.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded and went to find a place to lie down. He watched her slow progress across the room—she stopped several times to give out a comforting pat or word of encouragement.

  A rainy dawn arrived without further incident, bringing the besieged little cheer.

  “I wonder how many of our neighbors will dare show their faces this day?” he asked, handing Jacqueline a cup of tea. “We have no cream,” he apologized as she took it.

  “I’m quite content without it,” she said, shooting him a wry look.

  He chuckled. “Yes, I don’t suppose anyone here wants cream in their cup now. Did you speak with Mr. Farnsworth?”

  “Yes. He told me the young man he hired last week failed to return after making his morning deliveries—of which he apparently completed only half. His horse and wagon are missing as well. When I told him of the girls falling ill and why, he grew terribly upset. He offered to testify on our behalf should we catch the culprit.”

  “I doubt we’ll be so lucky. The poisoner is long gone.”

  “What do we do now?” she asked. “We dare not
attempt to flee—she is doubtless waiting for us to do so.”

  “Indeed. By now she knows I’ve returned. Having lost her quarry once in St. James, she won’t risk losing it again. She has us both in her sights, but she won’t risk so bold an attack as last night.”

  Jacqueline’s face hardened. “You think she will try to poison us again? Surely she must know I won’t allow any foreign food or drink to enter this school until the threat is over. If she means to starve us, she will have a long wait. We have enough food to last an entire winter.”

  “Yes, but without coal, you have no fire to cook it,” he reminded her.

  The color bled from her cheeks, but her chin stayed high. “I will burn every stick of furniture, every last book, if I must—”

  “You won’t need to,” he assured her. “Having drawn attention to us once, she won’t do so again, but she’ll still want us eliminated. I imagine her next move will be a quiet one. She knows I’m here and that I brought some of my people with me—she won’t risk us speaking to anyone outside. You can wager there are eyes in every street watching this school and a gun aimed at every door.”

  “Then we are at an impasse. How do we—”

  “Headmistress?” It was Dulcie. She extended her hand, which held a chunk of brick wrapped in parchment tied on with a red silk ribbon. “I went upstairs to gather a few things for the children, and this came through one of the windows.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I told everyone to stay out of the outside rooms!” Jacqueline snapped, snatching the parcel from her hand with shaking fingers. “You might have been killed!”

  Dulcie’s chin shook as she nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t disobey again.”

  “See that you don’t,” she admonished more gently. Reaching out, she tucked a strand of hair back around the girl’s ear. “I don’t want to lose you or any of the others. Remind them again for me?” She watched as the girl nodded and, dismissed, went to do her bidding.

  “Come,” Jacqueline said, going out into the hallway. Away from curious eyes, she untied the red ribbon, shuddering as she remembered the macabre token that had accompanied the last missive. Unwrapping the parcel, she tossed aside the chunk of brick and smoothed out the paper. The ink was blurred from the damp, but still legible.

  You have played a fine game, but now it is my turn. Dress in your finest. A carriage will come at two o’ clock for you, Lord Huxton, Sally, Fanny, and Abigail. You know what will happen if anyone fails to board, comes armed, attempts to flee, or tries to send for help. The choice is yours.

  B.

  “She’s angry over last night’s failure,” murmured Will, who was reading over her shoulder. “Enough that she wants to witness our end in person.”

  Closing her eyes didn’t stop tears escaping. “We cannot fight them off indefinitely.”

  “Fighting them off serves no purpose now,” he said surprising her. “I fully intend to get into that carriage.”

  She stared at him in bewilderment. “You want to go to her?”

  “I’m playing the cards dealt me,” he said, his eyes hard. “But make no mistake, the deck is stacked in my favor. Before coming here, I let my people know the situation and gave them orders to execute should I fail to return. Boucher may have men watching us, but I’ve got people watching, as well.”

  “But if we are followed—”

  “We won’t be. Boucher is as slippery as an eel and has many holes in which to hide, but given her recent difficulties she’ll doubtless be in the one where she feels safest—and thanks to one of her men we persuaded to talk, we know where it is.”

  “And if you are wrong?”

  His smile was confident. “Her fat is well and truly in the fire, and none of the other places are as secure. She’ll be there, lying low until she’s certain the danger is past and she’s no longer threatened. Gonson will have the area surrounded with men awaiting the signal to close in. That signal is my arrival.”

  Doubt gnawed at her. “Don’t underestimate her ability to deceive even her own people. She trusts no one but herself. Even if that man told you all he knew of this place, his information may be incomplete. Every time the Archangel thought he had her cornered, she managed to escape.”

  “I can vouchsafe that this place has only one point of egress. It was used by unsavory people long before Boucher took it over. It will be heavily guarded, but what matters is that she’ll be trapped inside.”

  “With us.”

  “Yes. With us. And there is the fatal flaw in her plan. She has survived by keeping danger at a safe distance. Now she’s bringing it right into her nest.”

  “If we make it that far,” she argued. “What guarantee have we that the men she sends for us won’t have orders to kill us the moment we cross the threshold?”

  “Time has run out, and she can afford no more mistakes. After last night’s failure, she’ll want to see it done properly to ensure none are made.”

  “I will not go unarmed,” she vowed, hitching up one side of her skirt to show him the bottom of a special holster she’d had made years ago. “It holds two pistols, good for close range only, but better than nothing. I can also conceal a blade in my sleeve.” The look of surprise he gave her was gratifying.

  But his startled expression quickly gave way to one of doubt. “What, exactly, is your intention?”

  Though her heart quailed, she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Boucher cannot be allowed to escape,” she said flatly. “The moment we are out of sight her men will attack. I can force her to make them stop. If she won’t…” She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “If she won’t give the order, then I’ll bring her lifeless body back here and lay it on the front steps. She will not have paid them yet, you see. She never pays out until a job is done, and hungry men don’t work for nothing. They will see the one who promised to pay them dead, and without the incentive of gold driving them to finish their work, they will leave.”

  “Anyone who attacks this school will most certainly regret it,” he said, his face hardening. “Sir Gonson is after Boucher, but Loxdon’s people are watching over this place. As for Boucher, I have no intention of letting her get away.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid to—”

  “You should be,” he rasped harshly. “This is not like the last time, Jacqueline. It’s true she committed terrible crimes against you and many others, but this has become a matter for Westminster—not personal vengeance.”

  Fury burned in her gut at the suggestion. “This is not about revenge. She threatens the lives of everyone I love!” Including you.

  “If you kill her in anything other than self-defense, it will be considered murder.” His blue eyes pierced her. “I don’t want you to have to face a judge—or a noose, should it go badly—for ending her worthless life, nor would I wish you to bear the weight of that sin on your immortal soul. It’s my job to see her brought to justice. If the only way to ensure that is through her death, it should be by my hand, not yours.”

  There was no winning this argument, so she let her gaze drop. “Very well. But I still won’t go unarmed.”

  “I don’t expect you to.” He softened. “In fact, I’ll take great comfort in knowing you possess some means of defense. Just don’t do anything rash. Let me handle Boucher.” He hesitated, his eyes clouding.

  “What is it?”

  “There is something else you ought to know,” he said with visible reluctance. “Last night Loxdon said the real Archangel is still in London. He met with him yesterday.”

  “What?” She stifled a curse. “He was supposed to have left London—if he gets involved and Boucher escapes, she will know who he is!”

  “We cannot help that. Loxdon knows he’s here. If possible, he’ll fill him in on our plan, and they can coordinate efforts. As for us, we must proceed as though he’s not involved.”

  “Agreed.” Hopefully, Tavistoke would have the good sense to keep hidden.

  “I’ll go a
rmed, as well,” continued Will. “I cannot conceal a pistol as easily as you, but a blade should be possible. I’ll speak to Richards. He has several.”

  “And what of Fanny and Abigail?” she asked. “I cannot bring myself to let them come.”

  “Say they’re dead.”

  “She will never believe it.”

  “She will if you convince her—did you not tell Mr. Farnsworth one of the girls was deathly ill? Did you give him her name?”

  “Yes, and no.”

  “Good. Then tell Boucher Abigail was killed by the poison. If Farnsworth has been questioned concerning your conversation yesterday, his answers will support the story. As for Fanny, tell her—”

  “I’ll come,” said a small voice. Emma—formerly Fanny—peeked around the corner. “I want to do it. If I go, I can make sure she believes you when you say Abi died.”

  “Emma, no,” Jaqueline replied, shaking her head. “I cannot allow you to—”

  “Yes,” said Will over her. He ignored the glare she directed at him and faced Emma. “It will be very dangerous—you might even be killed,” he warned. “But with your help, we might be able to overcome her. Do you know how to fire a gun?”

  “No, but I can carry one for you.” She glanced at Jacqueline nervously. “I can handle a knife well enough. I stabbed a man once. I know what to expect, and I’m not afraid to do it. If there’s a chance to save my sister and my friends, I want to try.”

  Will looked to Jacqueline. “We need all the help we can get. Even if all she does is provide a distraction, it will serve our purpose.”

  Knowing it was pointless to argue, she forced herself to nod. “What of Sally?” she said tightly. “I don’t trust her. If Boucher truly has her sister…”

  “I’ll speak with her and determine whether or not she comes. If I believe her a threat to the success of our plan, we’ll say she was killed during last night’s attack.”

  “Let me talk to her,” said Emma, again surprising them both. “When she answers, I’ll know if Boucher really has her sister.”