Seducing the Ruthless Rogue

by Tammy Jo Burns

“In due time.”

  “Could you open the window?”

  “It will contaminate the crime scene. Go into the hall.”

  Stubbornly refusing, Cassie stood there, shifting from one foot to the next as the man studied every aspect of the room for the next hour. The smell began to increase as the day began to grow warmer. Just when she thought she would have to show her weakness and leave the room, he announced that he was finished. He carefully shut the door and took her arm to lead her down the stairs. Cassie did not want to admit it, but she found his grip comforting. When they stepped outside, she took a deep breath, glad to smell London’s offal once more over that of a decomposing corpse.

  The director assisted her into the carriage before giving the driver a destination and climbing in after her. She lowered the window on her side of the hack, hoping for a breeze or a whiff of fresh air. Cassie held herself stiffly and felt McKenzie’s eyes on her.

  “What is it, Director?”

  “I just wanted to know if you were all right. Seeing that sort of thing can be traumatic more often than not.”

  “Yes, well, I have a strong stomach and was raised by scientists, so I am perfectly fine,” she replied looking him in the eye.

  “Excellent,” he said, relaxing against the seat.

  “Where are we going now?”

  “To inform the Runners of the incident.”

  “Why not your office?”

  “A murder in London is their jurisdiction,” he answered easily. “After that, I will take you home so that you can clean up.”

  “That would be most appreciated. I apologize for earlier. I, um, hope I did not injure you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” They traveled the rest of the way in silence.

  ***

  After depositing Miss Graham at her house, Mack found himself standing outside his brother’s mansion. He knocked on the door and waited patiently for it to be opened. He had almost talked himself into turning around and leaving when a man opened the door. Mack still found himself trying to get used to not seeing Hamlin, even though he retired to the country a few months ago. In fact, he left just about the time he and Gabe’s grandmother decided to retire to the dowager house. He chuckled to himself wondering if his brother had pieced together that puzzle yet.

  “Come in, sir,” the butler bid him to enter.

  “Thank you, um…”

  “Riggs, sir.”

  “Yes, Riggs. Forgive my manners.”

  “Completely understandable, sir. I expect you are here to see His Grace?”

  “Yes.”

  “Allow me to show you to the study, and I will let him know you are here.”

  “Thank you, Riggs.”

  Mack sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, awaiting his brother’s arrival. He heard the clomping of boots long before he saw his brother. When Gabe did enter the room, his cravat was askew, his hair was standing on end, and he was missing his superfine and weskit.

  “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”

  “Not what you’re thinking,” Gabe growled. “The baby is teething, and this is the first time she’s been quiet in hours. Mikala and I were just about to lay down for a few minutes. We were up most of the night.”

  “Don’t you have a nanny employed?”

  “Yes, but Diana was running a fever. Mikala was up walking the floor with her, when she wasn’t ill herself, and I couldn’t sleep without Mikala beside me. Why am I rattling on about this? You will know what it’s like when you get married and have children.”

  “Hah! I can’t believe you two are willing to go through this again. I think I will just be the wonderful doting uncle that spoils everyone.”

  “That’s what Thorn Wulfe thought he would be as well, but it didn’t work so well for him, did it?”

  “No, it didn’t,” Mack agreed. “Poor son of a bitch.”

  “You didn’t come at this hour to hear about the baby and Mikala. What’s on your mind, Mack?”

  “Where do I begin? Ever since that incident with my secretary turning over secrets, I have found it difficult to trust people in my office.”

  “Yes.”

  “Being removed from my position has not changed anything. There was information that I could not leave behind regardless of the order or who it was given by.”

  “Go on.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I trust you and Liverpool implicitly, but I can’t say that about everyone,” his brogue was thick today. “I believe there’s a traitor in the War Office again.”

  “Another?”

  “I’m surprised there haven’t been more, what with the way this war has drug on, and now the upstart colonists have decided they will try to take us on as well. We are surrounded by war. War provides people opportunities they might never have had before.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Sir Graham is missing.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You have had him safely tucked away for almost a year.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Mack charged, standing and pacing.

  “All right, how did all this come about?”

  “I caught Miss Graham searching my house last night.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Are you going to keep questioning everything I am telling you, or are you going to actually listen and offer some advice? Because, frankly, I can get this treatment from John.”

  “Perhaps you should shut the door before you finish this story,” Gabe said as a form of peace offering.

  Mack did and took his seat once more. “Last night was not the first night she had been in my house. The first night she got away,” he hedged. “She came back last night. If Miss Graham can be trusted, she was accosted the other day. The man told her he wanted maps that I have in my possession in exchange for her father.”

  “Could she tell who it was?”

  “No. She said that he used French words, but that she could not guarantee his nationality.”

  “Did you explain to her that you left all your paperwork at the War Office?”

  “No, I did not tell her that, because that’s not what I did. I told her nothing.”

  “What the devil are you saying?”

  “This is what I’m saying. In the last year there have been more assassination attempts on me than the Prince Regent. My office has been ransacked at least once a month. My house, twice now, not including Miss Graham’s attempts. Someone is looking for information they have not yet found. Have you considered that having me ‘temporarily’ moved from office is someone’s way of getting me out of the way to more thoroughly search for information?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I trust no one.”

  “Do you believe Miss Graham’s story?”

  “I haven’t decided. I took her this morning to prove to her that Sir Graham was perfectly safe.”

  “And that is when you found him missing?”

  “Yes, and the guard dead. His throat sliced open. It appeared to have happened several days ago.”

  “What other signs were there?”

  “None. The crime scene was relatively clean. There were not even any papers left behind. I stopped by and told Captain Adams at the Runners. His men were going to investigate.”

  “And let me guess, you chose to let them know rather than the War Office because of your lack of trust.”

  “Aye.”

  “I can’t say that I agree with how you dealt with the situation, but I don’t know that I would have handled it any differently. Do you have a plan?”

  “To find Sir Graham and get his daughter out of my life.”

  “Is she that hard on the eyes?”

  “How would I know? She’s so bloody stubborn, it’s hard to notice anything else.” Mack looked at his brother to see him smiling. “And you can bloody well wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you.”

  “So now that y
ou have told me all this, may I ask why? What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing. I just needed to discuss it with someone I do trust.”

  “I think you should tread cautiously, whatever you decide to do.”

  “Aye.”

  “And don’t be too hard on Miss Graham.”

  “And why shouldn’t I?” he asked gruffly. “You’ve no idea what I have endured so far with her.”

  “Remember what she has endured the last year. She has been on her own, most likely fearing the worst has happened to her father. That is a lot for anyone, let alone a woman left on her own.”

  “Oh, but I have a feeling you underestimate the dear Miss Graham, brother.”

  “But you won’t, will you?”

  “Not on your life. Go get some sleep. You look like hell.”

  “Thanks,” Gabe smirked as he stood and joined Mack around the desk. “Be careful out there.”

  “I will,” Mack replied solemnly.

  ***

  Cassie let herself into the house and shifted the bolt into place. She leaned against the door and felt herself deflate. Her knees became wobbly, and her hands trembled. She saw Chang enter the hall and forced herself to stiffen her resolve. It would do her no good to fall apart. Besides, she had work to do.

  “Missy Cassie, I so glad you home! Did you and that man find anything?”

  “Papa is definitely missing.”

  “Oh, no! But Missy Cassie, what happened to you? You hurt?”

  Cassie looked down at her dress, seeing all the blood once more, brought to mind the guard’s death mask again. “I’m fine, Chang, but I do need to wash and change clothes.”

  “I take care of water. You go change. Throw those out.”

  “I can’t afford to throw them out. I will just have to see what can be done,” she said, and moved toward her bedroom. She ignored Chang’s Cantonese babbling as he disappeared into the kitchen and began banging pots. Cassie pushed the thoughts threatening to overwhelm her out of her mind. “Focus on one thing at a time, old girl,” she directed herself. “Undress, bathe, dress, and then attend the rally. There will be time enough for rehashing everything that has happened up to this point.”

  She peeled the sticky dress and her undergarments off and let them fall to the floor in a heap. Cassie walked over and retrieved her heavy robe from her wardrobe and wrapped it around her, tying the belt firmly. She left her room and padded down the hall to the kitchen. Chang had set up the privacy screen. She inhaled deeply, smelling the aromatic oils he often gave her to put in her bath.

  “Here, Chang,” she passed off her bundle of clothing. “Do not throw them out, do you hear me? Put them on to soak and I will deal with them later.” He took the offensive clothing and held them out at arm’s length, chattering in his native tongue the entire time.

  Cassie stepped behind the screen, dropped her robe, and stepped into the warm water. She sat, pulling her knees up close, and let it lap against her skin. She caught her mind drifting, and she forcefully brought it back to the present. Cassie lathered a washcloth and scrubbed her skin until she thought she might make it raw. Upon finishing, she stood and picked up the bucket of clean water before pouring it over herself, rinsing away the suds.

  A few minutes later, Cassie found herself back in her room. She tidied her hair and then pulled out a worn, but serviceable dress, and all the accessories that went with it. Once dressed, she made her way to the small study she used for her writing. She picked up a journal and a sharpened pencil.

  “Chang, I am going to the rally. I will be home when it is over.”

  “Missy Cassie should not go out alone. I go with you.”

  “I will be fine, and if we want to eat next week, I have to go out.”

  “Not safe.”

  “I am not going to stand here and argue with you all day. I promise, I will be perfectly fine.” She walked over and gave the little man a kiss on his weathered cheek. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

  “Hmph,” he replied, waving his arm in the air and disappearing back into the kitchen, his long, thin ponytail moving like a whip as he shook his head back and forth.

  Cassie grinned affectionately at the retreating figure. “Lock up after me,” she called, before stepping outside. The warm summer day worked wonders at chasing the last of her chills away. She walked for quite a while, until she checked her time piece and realized she would have to take a hack or miss the rally. Cassie walked a few more blocks before she found a conveyance not in use. She paid the jarvey and gave him instructions before climbing inside. She wrinkled her nose at the stench inside the carriage. Finally, the coach rattled to a stop outside of the Parliament building.

  “Thank you,” Cassie called up to the driver then made her way to the crowd that had formed. Several people carried signs, and there was some chanting going on. Cassie casually moved around the crowd until she stood to the side, in the shade of a building. She discreetly pulled out her journal and pencil. A man, a follower of MP Wilberforce and a member of the Clapham Sect, stood on the crate. He raised his arms, and the crowd grew silent.

  “Welcome! We are here today to bring awareness to the plight of our fellow man. Men, women, and children who have been unjustly enslaved.” The man continued to speak while Cassie furiously took notes. Her heart went out to the people he spoke of. People who were ripped from their homes and families, forced into strange new lands. “Though we have won a victory in the East Indies, we must win their freedom everywhere!” A cheer went up in the crowd.

  Cassie gently tapped the pencil against her chin as she began to wander away from the group. She turned the corner and came face to face with another group. These people were not as well dressed as the last group, and their tone seemed angrier. A dark haired man incited this group of people. She studied the motley crew and saw that along with the men and women, there stood children of all ages. These people looked gaunt, tired, and malnourished. Her interest piqued, she moved closer to the agitated group. A devilishly handsome looking man made his way to the center of the group.

  “We’re here to make sure they,” he snarled the word and flung his head backwards to indicate the Parliament building behind him, “know what they’re doing to us.”

  The group yelled its support.

  “Look, there are men coming out that side door,” someone called, pointing in the direction of well-dressed men pouring out of the building.

  “Follow me,” he called, waving his arm for the group to follow him. Then the strangest thing happened. The group fitted masks into place as if they did not want to be recognized. Intrigued, Cassie kept close to the building but followed the group towards its quarry. “Ho there! Where you think you be going now, my lords?” The group formed a semi-circle around the men, impeding their movement.

  “Here now, get out of our way,” several of the finely dressed men ordered.

  “Not until you’ve heard what we have to say,” the leader said.

  “Speak then.”

  “You bring your machines to our factories. You claim to want to make our jobs easier, but in fact you are stealing our jobs.”

  “Aye, you’re rippin’ the food out of babes’ mouths!”

  “Isn’t it enough that you already live better than us?”

  “Ye’ live in them fancy houses with all them servants. What more do you want?”

  “Enough!” one of the men roared at the masked group.

  “No, it isn’t enough! It will never be enough. We will destroy the machines until you see things our way!”

  “Runners! Runners!”

  “You have not heard the last of us!” The group quickly dispersed ripping their masks off as they did so, all scattering in different directions.

  When the Runners did arrive, there was no one to chase. The Parliament members were standing about blustering to the Runners and Cassie tried to frantically capture the scene in words.

  “They practically attacked us!” one man ranted.
>
  “Made threats!” another bellowed.

  “I demand you find each and everyone of them and bring them to us.”

  “We will do our very best, gentlemen,” one of the Runners attempted to placate the men.

  “You see that you do. We will expect a report tomorrow,” one of the men said, leaving the Runners staring dumfounded at one other.

  Another member of Parliament turned and caught sight of Cassie, hovering in the background. “She was loitering amongst them!” he exclaimed pointing towards her.

  Quickly realizing she was the one they were pointing out, she turned, and sprinted away from the group. She turned a corner and felt herself brought up short.

  Chapter 5

  Mack had just drifted off to sleep when a pounding sounded at the door, waking him. He barely opened one eyelid to bring the time on his pocket watch into focus. When darkness greeted him, he growled in frustration and shut the watch without ever seeing the time. It was dark and that was enough for him.

  He pulled on his robe and then took the gun from the drawer of his night stand that stood next to his bed. His hair stood up from where he had run his hand through it. More pounding sounded. He left his room and stomped down the stairs to the front door. “I’m bloody well coming,” he muttered, cocking the pistol as he made his way downstairs.

  “Sir…” John stated from the depths of the house.

  “Go back to bed, John.” After undoing the lock and sliding back the bolt, he jerked the door open and pointed the pistol at the person standing on the other side of the door. A fist paused mid-air when it encountered the gun. “I suggest you stop before I shoot your hand off your bloody arm,” he growled, his brogue thick. He still pointed the gun at the shorter man.

  “I want to know what you did with Missy Cassie,” a little Oriental man demanded, undeterred.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now go home and let me sleep.”

  “No,” the man wedged his foot between the door and the frame. “You tell me where Missy Cassie is. Why you have gun? You shoot her?”

  “Who the bloody hell are you talking about, man?”

  “Missy Cassie.”

  “Are you talking about Miss Graham?”