“Now see here,” she said, her voice thin and strident.
“Let her go,” Bleecker said. “Kitty Markham wants to talk, I talk.”
“No you don’t,” the stranger continued, his voice dangerously low. “Trust me on this. Because if you do, I’ll have to kill you. Actually, I want to kill you. So it would rather make my day if you insisted. Go on, insist.”
“What?” Kitty shrieked. “Are you mad?”
“Not at all, madam,” her kidnapper said. “I am merely that good.”
Bleecker’s face had gone red and then pale. “What sort of set-up is this? Danny!” he called, and a big lumbering thug came to the door of the office. He glared at the stranger and then at Kitty.
“No trouble,” Kitty said quickly, holding up her hands. Well, one hand. The stranger’s grip prevented the other from going any higher than her waist.
“I’m in the mood for trouble,” the stranger said, sounding quite happy.
“Go on, get out of here,” Bleecker snarled. “And tell O’Shaughnessy I don’t find his jokes funny. He’s lucky I didn’t cut you and send his lightskirt back in tiny pieces.”
Kitty felt slightly lightheaded at that announcement.
“He really is,” the stranger agreed congenially. “Stupid woman.”
Kitty gasped in outrage but allowed him to pull her out of the building to the street. Bleecker’s thug followed them, laughing at Kitty’s indignation.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded after she’d been dragged a good block down the sidewalk.
The stranger stopped at the curb and raised his hand and with a snap of a whip a carriage came out of an alleyway across the street. “Sir Barnabas James would like to see you,” he said ominously.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” she snapped, yanking her arm from his grip.
“I just did,” he told. “Get in.”
Kitty held her skirts out of the way and climbed the steps, refusing the offer of the stranger’s hand to help her. He merely shrugged and climbed in after her.
“You have the manners of a boor,” she told him.
“Yes. But seeing as how I don’t really care, and I mostly kill people who don’t seem to care either, I see no reason to change,” he said calmly. “I have certain skills that preclude pretty manners.”
Kitty was furious at the turn of events. She hadn’t dressed for a visit to the Home Office today. She was wearing a serviceable muslin dress, dowdy and ill-fitting in an attempt to blend in to the surroundings in Holborn. “I am going to give Sir Barnabas James a piece of my mind,” she said between gritted teeth.
“Now that,” the stranger said with a charming smile, “I would love to see.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“What is the meaning of sending…him after me?” Kitty asked coldly as soon as she was shown into Sir Barnabas’ office. She sat down and glared at him.
“Ah, Hastings,” he said. “I see you’ve made another conquest. How delightful.”
“The ladies adore me,” Hastings said, closing the door and leaning against the wall beside it.
“My apologies, madam,” Sir Barnabas said, frowning at the other man. “Hastings can be a little rough around the edges. He doesn’t mingle in polite society often.”
“I don’t mingle in polite society at all if I can help it,” Hastings said belligerently. “If you’ll recall, you set me on this wild goose chase as punishment. If you’d given me a real assignment, I’m sure one of your toadeaters would have treated her like a queen.”
Kitty was lost in the argument, clearly an ongoing issue between the two men. “I was an assignment?” she asked incredulously. “For an agent of the crown?”
“Obviously not a wild goose chase,” Sir Barnabas said, “or she wouldn’t be here. What have you done now, Mrs. Markham?”
“What?” Kitty asked in confusion. “You wanted to see me.”
“He only wanted to see you if you did something stupid,” Hastings said, sounding bored. “I deemed your escapade this morning stupid enough to warrant a visit.”
Kitty sat back in her chair inelegantly, with her arms crossed, and gave a huff of indignation. “You have no idea what I was doing there, so I fail to see how you could jump to such an erroneous conclusion.”
“I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say you were there to offer Bleecker O’Shaughnessy’s territory. Am I right?” Hastings said. He sounded odious and smug.
Sir Barnabas put his forehead in his palm. “Please tell me you did not give her the opportunity to do that.” Hastings snorted in disgust that he’d even ask. “Did you kill him?”
“You told me I couldn’t kill anyone,” Hastings said, sounding like a petulant schoolboy.
“Since when do you do as you’re told?” Sir Barnabas said in disgruntled shock. “You had the perfect opportunity.” He pointed at Kitty. “A lady in distress. No one would have questioned your motives.”
“You told me I couldn’t kill anyone,” Hastings said slowly through clenched teeth. “Since I’m already twiddling my thumbs in this purgatory of useless babysitting errands, I chose not to disobey a direct order, which is what got me stuck here in the first place.”
“Act in haste, repent in leisure,” said Kitty, enjoying the dressing-down Hastings was receiving.
“Can I kill her?” he asked without looking at Kitty.
“No.” Sir Barnabas tapped his fingers on his desk. “Not yet.” Kitty glared at him. “Well, Mrs. Markham, if you continue to do foolish things and upset my plans, then something will have to be done about you.”
Kitty tried to rein in her temper. “I fail to see how any of this is your business, Sir Barnabas. I did not ask for an escort. You indicated that assistance from you would not be forthcoming. I do not want it.”
“You came to me, Mrs. Markham, not a week ago asking for my help. Now you do not want it? Why? Because you have a brilliant idea? One that involves announcing to every petty criminal in Holborn and St. Giles that O’Shaughnessy is weak and his woman is doing his business for him? Because that is precisely what would have happened had you accomplished your mission today. Bleecker would have reported the meeting directly to Kruger.” She stared at him in shock. “Oh, yes. You see, you do not know everything, Mrs. Markham. Kruger is consolidating his foothold. He’s offered Bleecker a partnership, although the fool doesn’t realize he’ll be the Sanguine in this one.”
“I didn’t know,” Kitty said with dawning horror.
“Exactly.” Sir Barnabas sighed. “O’Shaughnessy knows. He’s busy trying to put out fires and counteroffer. But he’s obviously lost the stomach for it.” Sir Barnabas pointed at her. “I blame you, of course, and that damn Peters.”
Kitty just bit her lip and stayed quiet. Sir Barnabas continued to tap his fingers on his desk as he regarded her with too much calculation for her peace of mind. Suddenly he pointed at Hastings. “You will watch her.”
“What?” Hastings practically shouted. “I did watch her. I brought her here, as ordered. Kept the damn fool woman from having her throat slit, and that would have been the best part of her day.”
“Oh, Devlin won’t like that a bit,” she told Sir Barnabas earnestly. “He really won’t. Someone will end up dead.” She turned to Hastings. “And it won’t be Devlin.”
Hastings narrowed his eyes and stared at Sir Barnabas and then at Kitty. “I can handle the likes of Devlin O’Shaughnessy.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?” She asked sarcastically. “He’s managed to survive this long because he has—how did you put it—a certain skill set that precludes having to put up with men like you.”
“Men like me?” Hastings said, taking two steps toward her. “And what does that mean?”
“Men who underestimate him.” Sir Barnabas’ voice cut through their bickering. “She’s right. Don’t tangle with O’Shaughnessy. Stay out of sight.” He looked at Kitty. “And you, Mrs. Markham, will keep this meeting to yourself.”
“You’ve made yourself a target, Mrs. Markham. You went out alone today, to see Bleecker. You showed them that O’Shaughnessy doesn’t keep a close enough eye on you. You’ve exposed your vulnerability and his.”
Kitty closed her eyes and sighed in disgust at herself. He was right, damn him. “How long?” she asked again.
“Until I can figure out a way to make your dreams come true, Mrs. Markham,” Sir Barnabas said unhappily. “Discreet inquiries will be made. I shall find someone to take O’Shaughnessy’s place, and I will figure out how to make it happen with the least amount of bloodshed.”
“Good luck with that,” Hastings said.
Sir Barnabas smiled at him and Kitty shrank back in her seat. “Oh, don’t worry Hastings. I shall make it happen. And you are going to help me.”
“You have a patient,” Clarence whispered through his open door. He glanced over his shoulder and stepped into Thom’s office and closed the door quietly. “An actual patient.”
Thom took a deep breath and asked with dread, “What are they here for?”
“Not that,” he said, making a face. “She’s pregnant. Very pregnant.”
Thom looked at him in surprise. “Really? Well, all right. That sounds like something I can handle with a minimum of fuss.” His surprise turned to alarm. “She isn’t having it right now, is she?”
Clarence gave him an exasperated look. “If she was, don’t you think I’d be a bit more panicked?”
Thom laughed. “Yes, you’re right. Sorry.” He stood and smoothed his new dark-blue jacket. Kitty had made it for him. It was now officially the best jacket he’d ever owned. “Do I look all right?” He’d been sitting at his desk half the day, reading The Times. Clarence had cleaned up the office with Rufus’ help while he’d been gone, including removing all of Thom’s liquor. He was glad he hadn’t had to do it. He wasn’t quite ready to test his willpower like that yet. None of his former patients—he used the term loosely—had stopped in. Apparently Devlin was correct and word was out that he was no longer treating patients with a good fuck.
“You look a damn sight better than the last time you were here,” Clarence told him with a smile. “I like this new Dr. Peters.”
“Do you?” Thom said. “I haven’t decided yet, myself. Let’s see how the next few days here in the office go.”
When he opened the door of the exam room a very pregnant woman was seated on the chair waiting for him. She wore a heavy shawl and a bonnet. Her face was round and pleasant, a scattering of freckles across her cheeks and upturned nose. She rose awkwardly. “How’d you do?” she said.
“Fine, thank you. And you?” Thom answered politely.
“Not so well,” she said with a frown. “This baby is going to kill me.”
Thom bit back a laugh but allowed his smile to show. “I sincerely doubt that,” he said. “But why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? Mrs.—” He let the question hang there.
“Richie. And it’s Miss.” She didn’t look the least embarrassed by it. “It’s my legs and feet. They’re swollen something awful.”
Thom offered her a hand and she climbed up on the table. He slid the chair over and very gently lifted her foot into his lap. “May I?” he asked. “I need to remove your boot to see.”
She nodded. “’Course you can, doctor. I’ve certainly had strangers see more.” Her laugh was bawdy and infectious. “Dev said you was all right and to let you do what you had to do. So go ahead.”
Thom didn’t pause. “Mr. O’Shaughnessy sent you?”
“That he did. Oh Lord,” she moaned as he slipped her shoe off. “That feels good.” She cleared her throat and he glanced up to see she was blushing. “Sorry.”
“That’s quite all right,” Thom said gallantly. “I completely understand.” He shook his foot, with its rather faded and scuffed boot, out to the side. “I do the same thing when I take these off.”
Miss Richie laughed. “You are a sweet one. The girls said you were, when you came to help Carrie.”
“How is she?” Thom frowned. “I’ve not heard anything.” He silently berated himself for not checking on the girl sooner.
His patient waved a hand dismissively. “Aw, she’s fine. A bit blue about losing the babe, of course. But she’ll be right as rain in no time, once she gets back to work. She’s young.”
Miss Richie didn’t appear too much older than Carrie. “I was sorry I couldn’t save them both,” he said, the familiar burn of regret churning in his stomach.
“Now, none of that,” Miss Rickie said, waving a finger at him. “The babe was dead before you even arrived. It happens. We all know that. Wasn’t the first and won’t be the last. That’s life.”
Thom wished he could have the same fatalistic view. It would certainly save his sanity. “I’m afraid I can’t do much for you,” he told Miss Richie after examining her foot and ankle and lower leg. “This is common late in pregnancy. The most I can recommend is that you rest with your feet elevated.” He angled his arm in front of him. “Like this. It should help the swelling. You’re not working still, are you? You shouldn’t be.”
“Lord love us, no,” she said. “I haven’t room in there for anyone else.” She gave the same bawdy laugh. “I’m on mending duty for the next few months. Got to keep the girls’ clothes up, if not on.”
Thom couldn’t contain his smile. “Indeed.” He slipped her boot back on. “In addition to keeping the foot elevated, try to eat more meat and perhaps some onion and parsley,” he advised her. “But no salt. I saw swelling a great deal during the war, and what you eat can affect it. “
She frowned. “Well, I’ll miss my salted fish, then.”
“Who will attend the birth?” he asked. “There was no midwife with Carrie when I arrived.”
“She’d left. Knew the baby was dead and gave Carrie up. That’s when Kitty came and made Dev go get you.” Miss Richie sighed as she stood. “Thank you, doctor.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you,” he said with a smile. “But this is a small discomfort all women in your condition suffer.”
She nodded. “This isn’t my first. But with the last one I didn’t have quite as much swelling. It had me worried.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” he said, “do the children live with you?”
“You mean in the house, with the other girls?” she asked. He nodded, a little embarrassed by his curiosity. “No,” she said. “They live with me in a small flat not far from there. Dev set it up for the girls with children. There’s a young girl who watches them at night.”
“I see,” he said thoughtfully. Devlin fixing everyone’s problems again. “Isn’t that unusual?”
She nodded as she walked past him into the hallway. “Yes, but I heard his sister died in childbirth. He always worries about the ladies.”
The reason he’d run the night Thom had gone to help Carrie. Devlin had looked positively panicked. “I didn’t know,” he murmured. He wondered what else he didn’t know about Devlin. The thought made him uneasy. He was already irrevocably entangled with the enigmatic and dangerous Devlin. He hadn’t even thought about Devlin’s secrets and how they might affect him. Had Devlin developed a soft spot for him because of what he’d done for the girl, Carrie? Because of his sister?
Miss Richie peered around the waiting room. There was another woman there who rose when they entered. She came toward them and sketched an awkward curtsy to Thom.
“How’d you do?” she said shyly. “I’m Loretta. I brung Daisy today.”
“How do you do?” Thom said with a polite bow. Miss Richie laughed as her friend Loretta blushed. “I’ve ordered your friend to sit with her feet up, and to eat more meat and less salt. Onions and parsley, too, if you can get them.”
“Oh, we’ve got them,” Loretta said earnestly. “Dev, he makes sure we’ve got en
ough money to eat good.”
“I’m sure he does,” Thom said. “But I might say something to him, anyway.”
Loretta’s eyes got big. “I wasn’t complaining.”
“Of course not,” Thom agreed, injecting a jovial tone into his voice. “Don’t worry.”
“Don’t be a ninny, Lori,” Miss Richie said. “This here’s a good one. He won’t do us wrong.” She looked around the room again. “Ain’t Rufus here?”
“No,” Thom said, surprised. “Is he supposed to be?”
She shook her head. “No, I suppose not. I just didn’t think Dev would leave you alone.”
“Alone?” Thom asked, confused. “I’m not. Clarence is here.” He pointed to the other man, who looked affronted at being dismissed so casually.
“Oh, I just meant without someone of his. He doesn’t usually leave his places unguarded.”
“This isn’t his place,” Thom said. “It’s mine.”
“Course not,” she said quickly. She gave him a sly smile. “Be sure to say hello to Kitty for us.”
“I will,” Thom assured her with a wink. The two ladies left, giggling.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dev hadn’t gone home to Kitty’s for the last two days. That made three nights he’d slept alone in his office. Three nights he’d lain awake thinking about Kitty and Thom fucking without him. Three nights of hell. But it had to be done. He was doing the right thing for them.
He’d sent a note both of the last two nights. It was Thom who’d responded. Kitty must still be mad at him. The first night Thom had simply sent an acknowledgment. The second night his note was terse.
What are you doing, Devlin? What’s going on? If you don’t come to us, we’ll come to you.
At first he’d planned a slow separation. But that one return to Kitty’s place, watching her and Thom together, talking to them, fighting with her—it had all made his stomach clench and his heart ache. He’d hardly eaten in three days. This brokenhearted business felt like a stomach disease. Better to make a clean break of it. He hadn’t replied to Thom’s note but figured he ought to by day’s end. The sun was already going down. He didn’t want them here, didn’t want to see them yet, before he had control of his emotions and could play the indifferent lover bidding them a fond farewell.
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