by Wendy Vella
“Thank you, Stephen,” Sophie said.
As the carriage pulled to a stop in front of Letty’s town house, Sophie was relieved to see it was still in darkness. She made a decision as Patrick moved to open the door, a decision neither man would be happy with.
“I will come with you.”
“Absolutely not!” Stephen said.
Patrick just said, “No!”
“Timmy is my brother, he will need me to be there when you find him,” she said as calmly as her wildly beating heart allowed her to.
“We are going into the most dangerous parts of London, Sophie. Areas frequented by those who would slit your throat before asking what you want.”
“I understand that, Patrick, but I will still be going with you. I will stay in the carriage when you say I must … but I will be accompanying you.”
He couldn’t help it, she just made him smile. From the thrust of her chin to her clenched fists and every delectable inch in between, it all made Patrick smile. Twenty minutes ago she was a sobbing hysterical woman, and now her voice carried a steely determination he had rarely seen. Of course he couldn’t allow her to accompany them, he could never take that risk, yet he was pleased to see her courage.
“The answer is no, Sophie. Now we are wasting time, so get out of the carriage and let me escort you inside,” Patrick said, holding the door open and using his head to indicate he wanted her to step down.
“If you make me get out of this carriage, I will call a hackney and follow you.” Sophie inched further back in her seat as she spoke. She needed to go, not only to see to Mary and Timmy’s safe return, but to make sure Patrick stayed safe. She could not bear the thought of anything happening to him, because tonight she had realized just how important he was to her.
“Be reasonable, Sophie. How am I to concentrate on Timmy’s safe return if I have to worry over you,” Patrick said, and was rewarded with a nod of encouragement from the now silent Stephen.
“I was a servant, Patrick. I know about villains and thieves, the seedy side of life.”
Stubborn girl. Patrick took a deep breath; only she could make him lose his temper.
“Let her come, Colt. We have two drivers. We will station one outside her door when we get out of the carriage.”
Patrick stared at his friend. Was he mad?
“We are wasting time, Patrick. Please close the door and let us be on our way,” Sophie said, moving across the seat to jam herself into the corner in case he decided to bodily lift her out.
“First, you will go upstairs and change your clothes, and second, you will leave a note for Letty in case she wakes and grows worried over your absence,” Patrick said, unhappy that he was giving in, but knowing when he was cornered.
“You will leave without me,” Sophie said unmoving. She was on to their tricks.
“You have my word we will not.” Patrick’s sigh could have felled a forest as he stepped out of the carriage
She gave both men a look, then took the hand Patrick held out to her.
CHAPTER TEN
“Thank you,” Patrick said as he joined Stephen inside the carriage once Sophie had gone inside to change her clothes. “However, I would have been grateful for a bit of backup,” he added.
Stephen waved his words away, instantly understanding what Patrick’s gratitude had been for. “What she did tonight took courage, Colt. I have no fears confiding in her, and for what it’s worth I like her; she will keep you on your toes.”
“How so?” Patrick queried. He did not bother to deny his feelings or intentions toward Sophie. Stephen was no fool and Patrick was sure that he now knew what she meant to him. Surprisingly, these revelations did not instill their usual terror in Patrick; instead, they infused him with warmth.
Stephen took his time answering as he made himself more comfortable by propping his booted feet on the opposite seat beside Patrick.
“Sophie has lived with fear for years; there has probably never been a point in her life when she was without it. Of course, now she has Lady Carstairs and wealth, but she still has the fear of exposure.”
Patrick nodded. Society might think Stephen a devil-may-care rake, but he was in fact a very astute man and one of the few from whom Patrick took advice.
“It is my belief that when she is wed to you, she will finally feel safe, and her natural nature will surface.” Stephen laughed as Patrick scowled at him. “You will wed her, my friend, and her nature will be bubbly and enthusiastic and she will lead you on a merry chase.”
“Perhaps I should ask her first,” Patrick drawled.
“You do that.”
Hearing the front door of Sophie’s house close, Patrick climbed from the carriage again to help her inside.
* * *
Patrick signaled his driver to stop before a small seedy tavern in St. Giles, one of the more undesirable parts of London.
“You will stay here, Sophie. This place is filled with men who have drunk too much and would think nothing of taking advantage of a woman, no matter what her standing in society may be.”
Sophie nodded but remained silent. She was no fool.
“Good girl,” Patrick added as he leaned over to brush a kiss on her lips.
“Please be careful,” she begged.
Nodding, Patrick handed her a blanket and a small flask, then he and Stephen left the carriage. Seconds later, Sophie peeked out the window to see one of his drivers move to stand beside the door.
Both men strolled into the bustling room as if it were a nightly occurrence for them to frequent such a place at such an ungodly hour. Neither blinked at the raucous noise that filled the rafters from the drunken patrons. Ignoring the revelry and glares, Patrick and Stephen shouldered their way straight to the bar.
“My lords,” the innkeeper said, rushing forward as he recognized them. His head was bald and shiny from sweat, his face hung with heavy jowls, and a large apron covered in grime was wrapped tightly around his rotund stomach.
“Toad,” Stephen said, with a slight inclination of his head as he moved to lean on the counter, heedless of the ale and filth on the surface that now seeped into the sleeve of his overcoat. “We need some information; is Bailey here?”
Toad looked around him, his eyes scanning the room with the ease of familiarity. “There,” he said, jerking his head to the left. Then he poured ale into glasses that he had wiped with a filthy cloth, setting them before Patrick and Stephen.
“ ’Allo, gents.”
“My lady,” Stephen said as they turned to see a woman approach. She had big, unrestrained breasts that frothed out the top of her blouse, bright painted cheeks, and a straw-colored mass of tangled hair. She looked both Patrick and Stephen over and decided they would do her just nicely.
“I can make ye both happy if needs be,” she said and smiled, revealing a row of blackened and missing teeth.
“I’m afraid we must decline,” Stephen said, as he watched Patrick scowl at the woman. The lady snarled something vile as Patrick ignored her and turned to walk away. Stephen rolled his eyes and followed.
“Bailey,” Patrick said, as he lowered himself into a small booth beside a man who was face-first in another ample pair of breasts. The woman was giggling as he shook his head from side to side, making several disgusting noises against her flesh.
“Bailey!” Patrick said again, this time reaching over the table and tugging the straggly gray tail that hung at the base of the man’s head.
“Ouch!”
“I see you have not slowed down in your old age, Bailey,” Stephen slipped onto the seat beside Patrick.
“My lords!” The man’s eyes bulged as he looked at both men. He immediately tipped the woman off his lap and shooed her away without a second glance.
“We need information and we need it fast,” Patrick said, getting straight to the point of their meeting. Bailey, if allowed, tended to waffle.
“Of course,” Bailey said, licking his lips as he eyed the pouch of coins S
tephen tossed around in his hands.
“A man named Jack Spode kidnapped a child tonight from his family home, and we want to know where the child is being held,” Patrick said, keeping his eyes on the wiry gray-haired man across from him. It was small, but he saw the twitch in his eye, a sign that he knew something. “This boy is a member of the ton, Bailey, and his mother and aunt are distraught. He has his nanny with him, but neither woman will rest until he is safe,” Stephen added.
“I have heard nothing,” Bailey said, looking anywhere now but at the two men opposite him.
Patrick saw the fear in his eyes as Jack Spode’s name was mentioned. He’d seen that same fear in Sophie’s eyes just a few hours earlier. Spode must indeed be a powerful man if Bailey feared him. To the best of his knowledge, Bailey feared only him and Stephen. “Tell me what you know, Bailey.” Patrick’s tone was steady.
“He will kill me, slit my throat and throw me into the Thames,” Bailey whined, shuffling deeper into the booth.
“And I will have you imprisoned,” Patrick replied, his eyes now mere slits. Bailey had a fear of imprisonment that far outweighed all others and it did not take long for him to start talking.
“Ee’s a bad ’un, this Spode,” Bailey said, then spat onto the ground beside him.
Tucking his foot under the table, out of spitting distance, Stephen asked, “How so?”
“Been in London two months and is already causing trouble. Leaves a trail of wounded and dead in his path, don’t have any morals.”
Stephen coughed loudly and Bailey looked at him, his expression hurt. “I may have done some bad stuff, but I ain’t never hurt anyone.”
“We’ve established you are a pillar of society, Bailey, now tell me something useful,” Patrick said, his tone curt. Sophie would be growing more agitated with each passing minute, and although she had given him her word, he wasn’t totally sure she wouldn’t come looking for them if they took too long.
Bailey got up and returned minutes later with three men.
“These lads were part of the Brumble gang. They worked from here east,” Bailey said. “Thieves, who big Baldy Brumble gathered together. They were the best on the streets. Never harming anyone you understand,” Bailey put in as Patrick glared at him. “But they stole plenty, and usually sold it to gullible nobs for a pretty penny.”
“Us being the gullible nobs as I understand it?”
“Never labeled you like that, my lords,” Bailey said in answer to Stephen’s question. “Just the ones dumb enough to know no better, with plenty of pennies to fleece.”
“Excellent, my mind is relieved. Please continue,” Stephen added.
Nodding to one of the men, Bailey said, “Fred’ll continue from here, my lords.”
Fred, however, had other ideas. He just stood there silent as a statue, looking at his feet.
“I am not a patient man, Fred.” Patrick felt his temper begin to simmer. Sophie’s little brother was out there somewhere with only his nanny to keep him safe, and he was no closer to finding him. “The woman I care for is suffering because her child is missing, believed kidnapped. If you do not start talking, I will start extracting the information I need in whatever manner it takes. Is that understood?”
“Talk, idiot!” Bailey said, kicking Fred in the ankle. He’d seen the earl having a good mill with a couple of sailors; he was not a man to tangle with.
“Jack Spode told Baldy he was taking over his business. Said as how there was no room for the both of them,” Fred said, his eyes now darting between Stephen and Patrick. “Baldy told him to go to hell and Spode, he just pulled out a knife and plunged it straight into his heart.” Fred swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “He said he’d kill us if we tried to escape and that we now worked for him.”
Stephen and Patrick listened to similar stories from the other men, some worse, and some so horrific that even Patrick winced. They left minutes later with the location of the area Jack Spode frequented.
* * *
Sophie had known and endured both fear and pain in her life, but this waiting was torture. Helpless, she was forced to sit in this small space and worry about the two men she cared for the most in this world. Her brother was so small and vulnerable—she needed him home safe in her arms, and Patrick—the thought of never seeing him again was devastating. Panic gripped her as she pictured him facing Jack Spode, who she knew would always fight dirty to achieve his ends. He would show no hesitation in taking a knife to a peer.
“Dear lord, what is keeping them in that filthy place,” Sophie whispered as again she peered out of the window.
“Close that curtain, woman!”
Sophie pulled it back into place as Patrick’s voice reached her through the door. Seconds later it opened and he and Stephen climbed inside.
“Timmy?”
Patrick took Sophie’s hands in his as he sat beside her.
“We have a location where Jack Spode is most often found, Sophie. We are hopeful that it is there that we will find Timmy.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“Our sources believe it is a tavern where he rents rooms above,” Patrick added as the carriage began to move once again.
“I will come with you this time, in case Timmy is inside.”
“No, you will stay in the carriage until either I or Stephen come for you,” Patrick said calmly. He wouldn’t let her anger him again.
Sophie looked at the man beside her. He was big and unyielding, yet in this she was determined to succeed. She needed to find her brother and to do that she had to be braver and stronger than she had ever been before.
“But only I know what Mary looks like, Patrick, therefore it is imperative I accompany you.”
“No, Sophie.”
“You could walk right past her and would not realize it. Surely you see how important it is for me to come with you.” Sophie hated the pleading note in her voice. She had to stay rational and calm; Patrick would outmaneuver her otherwise.
Silence settled in the carriage for several minutes, only the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves could be heard in the night air. Sophie did not speak; she had said enough.
Patrick wanted Sophie safe and as far away from danger as possible, yet he also knew she had a valid point. Looking across the carriage, the only response he got from Stephen was a shrug.
“I want you safe, Sophie, and I can’t ensure that if I take you in there.”
She waited a heartbeat before saying, “I know you will keep me safe.”
Her words touched him deep down inside and he knew she had as much right to help in this search as he, yet he hated the thought of anything happening to her.
“You will not say or do anything unless I tell you, Sophie. This situation is fraught with danger and if at any time Stephen or I order you to return to the carriage. then you will do so. Is that understood?”
Sophie nodded.
“There will be no negotiation once we are inside, no using feminine wiles, it will be exactly as I say. Do I make myself clear?”
“I am a woman, my lord, therefore not a fool. I can understand simple orders,” Sophie said.
Stephen snorted, Patrick muttered, and Sophie turned to look out the window as she closed her eyes and prayed for her brother’s safe return.
“She can’t go into an alehouse in these parts looking like she does, Colt.”
Sophie looked down at her clothes as Stephen spoke. Her cloak was black; surely it was inconspicuous enough?
“She looks like a woman of quality or, God forbid, a reformer.”
Patrick studied Sophie. As far as he was concerned she was perfect in whatever she chose to wear … or, his personal preference, not to wear. However, he could see Stephen’s point. She looked sweet and innocent and would be sure to stand out from the women in the tavern.
“Surely not?” Sophie said, once again looking down at herself. “I am dressed modestly.”
“You’re remarkably naive for someone w
ho was in service,” Patrick said, reaching for the ties of her bonnet, undoing them and lifting it off her head. “The women in there will be ladies of the night, Sophie,” he added, taking his knife from his boot and slicing off one of the lilac satin ribbons. “Do you know what that means?”
“Oh, well of course I do!” Sophie declared. “Why are you destroying my bonnet?” she added.
Patrick wrapped the silk around her neck and tied it in a bow at the front. Reaching for her hair, he began pulling out pins. Even here in the confines of his carriage, with Stephen seated across from him, Patrick felt his body tighten. Each lock he freed felt like satin as it brushed his fingers and he wanted to plunge his hands into the tresses and kiss her until they both ran out of air.
Sophie concentrated on Patrick; only then could she control the tight knot of fear in her stomach. Dear God! Where was her brother?
“Now use the other ribbon to tie it all together loosely,” Stephen advised.
“Should I be worried that you both know how a lady of the night should look?” Sophie forced a laugh that came out high-pitched and shaky.
Patrick heard the tremor in Sophie’s voice and slid his hands to her shoulders to give them a gentle squeeze.
“We were undercover, Sophie. We met people from all walks of life,” Stephen said smoothly.
“Am I to be a lady of the night, then?” Sophie asked, looking at Patrick’s chest. Lord how she wanted to fall upon it and once again give in to her fears, yet she could not; that would not help Timmy or Mary.
“It will be safer for you than going in as a countess,” was all Patrick said as he cut the other ribbon from her bonnet.
“I’ll take that,” Sophie said, holding out her hand. Deftly she tied the ribbon around the ends of her hair. Reaching for the ties at her throat she then released her cloak.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m sure ladies of the night wear far less than this, Patrick,” she said and then proceeded to undo the top two buttons of her dress.
“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” Patrick said, as he looked at the pale curves of her breasts. Suddenly with just those few alterations to her appearance, Sophie had transformed from prim Miss to sultry siren. Patrick didn’t like the transformation, not one bit.