Worn out from the happenings of the day, unable to even spare a moment to speculate about the man she had identified as her father or the odd impact Royce Manchester had upon her emotions, Pip fell asleep the moment her head hit the thin little pillow that had been provided. She had not been fearful that she would sleep through the night—from childhood, she had trained herself to awake at any given time, and it was after three o’ clock in the morning when she suddenly awoke, almost as if someone had touched her.
For just a few moments, she lay there in the silence of the night, savoring these last precious seconds in her own room and bed. Then, with a faint regret at leaving such comfort, yet eager to escape to the world she knew, she slipped from the bed. She dressed swiftly and silently in the darkness, a feeling of guilt sweeping through her at the knowledge that she would be absconding with Ivy’s dress. It struck her as very strange that mere hours ago, she would have thought nothing of stealing Ivy’s belongings, but now ...
Uneasy at the state of her mind, she stealthily left her room and crept down the narrow hallway. Her descent to the kitchen was without incident, and she had just carefully advanced halfway across the big room toward the bolted and barred door that led to the outside before she became aware that she was not alone.
Stiffening in alarm, she froze, all of her senses alert as she sought to discover the position of the other person in the room with her. There was a moment of tense silence as she stood there listening intently before she heard the faintest little noise to her left. Carefully she swiveled her head in that direction, her eyes trying to pierce the concealing blackness, and it was in that instant that she became chillingly conscious of the presence of the second person in the room. She had only a moment to comprehend this startling fact when suddenly she felt a sharp blow to the head.
The blow was not hard enough to knock her out, though it stunned her, and reacting immediately, even as she stumbled, she rammed her elbow viciously in the stomach of her attacker. The muffled curse that greeted her actions filled her with a fierce satisfaction in that split second before she recognized the voice.
Ignoring her throbbing head, she spun around. “Jacko! Is that you?”
“Bloody eyes! Who the hell else would it be?” Jacko growled back at her. “Jesus, Pip, I swear you’ve put a hole in my belly.”
“Well, next time, don’t come creeping up behind me in the dark,” she replied tartly, one hand gingerly rubbing the sore spot on her head. “Besides, what are you complaining about? I’m the one who got hit on the head.”
“Hush!” Ben whispered as he came up to stand by Pip. “Have you forgotten where we are?”
Both Pip and Jacko subsided, nursing their respective hurts, and after a second, Pip said softly, “Shall we go now?”
There was an odd little silence and then Jacko said quietly, “We have to talk to you first, Pip. Ben and I have a plan.”
Uneasy and not knowing why, Pip fidgeted, asking almost petulantly, “Can’t we wait until we are out of here to talk about it?”
Again there was that odd little silence, and Pip’s uneasiness grew. There was something her brothers weren’t telling her, something that she wasn’t going to like when she heard it.
A soft scraping sound broke the silence as Ben deftly lit the small candle he carried in his pocket. In the faint light of the wavering flame, the three siblings stared at one another.
Pip had forgotten her appearance, but the admiring expressions on her brothers’ faces reminded her instantly.
“Coo!” Ben said proudly. “Don’t you look like a right prime article!”
Jacko echoed his brother. “Pip! Who would have guessed that a mere gown would make you look so devilish fine!”
Pip smiled, basking in her brothers’ warm compliments. Forgetting the need to escape, almost coquettishly she spread her skirts and twirled slightly. “Really?” she asked shyly, her face full of innocent pride.
Her brothers nodded enthusiastically. Then, almost as one, their smiles faded and Jacko sighed. “How are you ... I mean, you are not hurt, are you? No one has been cruel to you, have they?”
Pip shook her head. “No,” she answered honestly. “Nearly everyone has been most kind to me. The servants are a bit uncertain of me, but they have treated me well.” A scowl marred her face. “Except for the bloody American! He damned near drowned me, and I didn’t appreciate his arrogant manner or his methods!” She dwelt blackly on Royce’s high-handed actions for a moment before admitting fairly, “But he is not necessarily cruel.” Pushing aside her grudge against the master of the house, she excitedly informed them, “I was given a room all by myself! Imagine—a bed of my very own!”
Her brothers looked suitably impressed. But it was Ben who asked intently, “Then you wouldn’t mind staying here for a while?”
“Stay here?” Pip repeated in a shocked voice. “Why should I stay here?” Alarm flooded through her. “I want to go home!”
Looking extremely uncomfortable in the flickering light, Jacko said gruffly, “Pip, Ben and I have been thinking—being here might be the safest place for you.”
“Safe? What do you mean? Why won’t I be safe with you?”
Jacko and Ben exchanged glances. Gently Ben said, “Pip, we were coming after you anyway, but before we left our rooms, the dimber-damber came to see us, raging at us that we had allowed you to be captured. He was furious about what happened this morning—more furious than I have ever seen him.” Ben shuddered. “I actually thought for a moment that he would do us a violence.” His voice lowered and he said grimly, “But, Pip, it wasn’t our failure to rob the American that aroused his fury, it was your being beyond his power!”
As Pip continued to look uncomprehendingly from face to face, Jacko said urgently, “Don’t you see, Pip! Here you are safe! He cannot touch you here.” Jacko hesitated a moment before adding reluctantly, “Pip, he was so angry, he wasn’t watching what he said to us, and he made it very clear that he has plans for you—has had plans for you for a long time.” Jacko frowned. “He muttered wild things, things that don’t really make any sense, things about how you were going to be his way of gaining revenge for all the slights and sneers he’s suffered over the years. But he did make it very clear that he’s not waiting any longer to have you in his bed. If you come back with us tonight,” Jacko said bluntly, “by this time tomorrow you will be his mistress—willing or not!”
Pip swallowed back the sudden surge of bile that rose in her throat. Never! she thought fiercely. Fate might eventually cast her in an unpleasant role—that of a kept woman—but not the one-eyed man’s! And as for staying here ... Royce Manchester’s lean, handsome face leaped before her eyes and she was conscious of a great rush of mingled resentment and uneasiness. The big American disturbed her in ways that no one ever had, and she wasn’t so certain that she wanted to remain in his vicinity.
“We can find someplace else for me to hide,” she offered desperately.
“Can you think of any other place that will be safe from the dimber-damber? As safe as this one?” Jacko asked harshly.
Reluctantly Pip shook her head and said dully, “Very well, I’ll stay.” Her eyes full of anguish, she asked fearfully, “But what of you? What will you tell him?”
It was obvious that it had been her reaction that had been their greatest concern, because both her brothers seemed to relax and Ben actually grinned as he said, “We’ll simply tell him that the house was too big for us to search through every room for you and that before we could finish looking for you, one of the servants awoke and we had to escape.”
“But he’ll send you back again.”
“Oh, yes, he bloody will do that, but at least for a few days, we’ll keep him off the scent.”
Ben’s words did not offer much comfort to Pip. “I don’t like it! He’ll have you killed if he thinks you have disobeyed him.”
“No, he won’t,” Jacko said calmly. “First of all, it would never occur to him that we are not te
lling him the truth. We have always obeyed him in the past—why should he think any differently now?” Not expecting an answer, he went on, “Anyway, after a few days, we will tell him that we finally managed to find you alone, but that you swore you’d scream the house down if we attempted to take you from it. In the meantime, you make certain whatever room you sleep in is secured against someone sneaking in on you.” His face grim, he added, “Ben and I can keep him at bay for a while, but sooner or later, more likely sooner, he is going to grow impatient with our excuses and send someone else after you—someone who won’t disobey him! We’ll do what we can to make things difficult for them, but you’ll have to be on your guard also.”
Pip stared at them in the fitful light for a long moment. Her expression a mixture of worry and resignation, she finally nodded and threw herself against Jacko’s chest, hugging him fiercely. “Be careful,” she said vehemently. Then, after doing the same to Ben, as if not giving herself time to think, she fled in the darkness.
CHAPTER 6
Royce woke with a start, not certain what had roused him from his fitful slumber. He lay there in the darkness for several moments listening intently, but heard nothing out of the ordinary. From the street below came the creak of a passing carriage, the horses’ hooves rattling noisily on the cobblestone street, and in the distance he heard the night watchman call the hour of three o’clock.
There was no sound within the house, yet something had awakened him. A sixth sense? Or instinct? Or, he thought with a wry smile, sheer cussedness?
As the minutes passed and he still did not hear anything that could have brought him so suddenly and alertly awake, Royce rose from the bed and reached for his night robe, which he knew lay on the chair near the bed. Shrugging into the handsome garment of black silk, he found his slippers beneath the bed and, after putting them on, crossed to the long mahogany bureau that stood against one wall. In the darkness he scrabbled about until he found candle and flint. A second later, the candle lit, he glanced around his room.
Nothing there to have awakened him. But something had. And instinct told him it had nothing to do with sheer cussedness. Royce was a man who relied heavily on his instincts, and just as those same instincts had kept him from trouble in the past, they now prompted him to satisfy his curiosity about why he had come so suddenly awake.
After pocketing the small pistol he frequently carried concealed on his person, he blew out the candle and put it and the flint in his other pocket before slowly opening the door. The hallway stretched black and silent before him, and moving noiselessly, he carefully made his way downstairs, all his senses alert for the first sign of danger.
Pausing in the big entry hall, he stood there listening, still trying to figure out what had caused him to awaken. He heard no sounds except what would be normal—the clock ticking on the marble mantel, and the faint hiss and pop of the nearly dead fire in the main salon. Yet the feeling that someone had entered the house, the strong feeling that his defenses had been breached, would not go away. As the moments passed, however, and he neither heard nor saw anything to arouse his suspicions, he began to feel a bit silly standing there in the darkness, one hand wrapped tightly about the small pistol. He was about to turn away and go back to his bed when the tiniest sound, the faintest whisper of noise, had him spinning around and staring intently through the blackness in the direction of the kitchen.
There had been a muffled noise, almost of pain, and it had been that soft, instantly smothered sound that had caught his attention. Moving carefully, he glided through the dining room and butler’s pantry to stand motionless on the other side of the green baize door that led to the kitchen. From underneath the door, the faint flicker of candlelight confirmed the presence of someone else moving furtively through the house....
Edging closer, his ear pressed to the thin material of the door, Royce was startled to hear Pip say urgently, “But he’ll send you back again.”
A man’s voice, one he didn’t recognize, spoke up, saying quietly, “Oh, yes, he bloody will do that, but at least for a few days, we’ll keep him off the scent.”
It was obvious that Pip knew the gentleman, and Royce was on the point of making his presence known when a third voice entered the conversation in the kitchen. Royce found the conversation most interesting, and having a fair guess as to the identity of the two men in his kitchen with Pip, he stood there listening attentively to the words that flew between the three of them.
Royce sensed rather than heard Pip’s departure, and deciding that there was no time to lose, in one swift motion he pushed open the baize door and entered the kitchen. The two intruders were clearly silhouetted in the flickering light of the candle, and as their attention had been on Pip and her exit from the kitchen, Royce’s entrance went unnoticed until he said mildly, “A rather late hour to come calling, gentlemen, wouldn’t you say?”
Almost as one, Jacko and Ben spun around, their faces paling when they saw the small pistol Royce held menacingly in his hand. Jacko made a sudden movement to douse the candle, but the deadly promise in Royce’s voice as he said, “I wouldn’t if I were you—a bullet between the eyes will definitely not add to your attractiveness with the ladies,” made Jacko think better of the notion. Shrugging his shoulders, Jacko let his hands fall helplessly to his sides and warily he eyed Royce.
Royce was pleased that his surmise about the identity of the two intruders had been correct. “We weren’t formally introduced this afternoon, when you so, er, kindly offered to take the little pickpocket off my hands, so I’ll have your names now, if you don’t mind.”
Jacko and Ben stood staring at him mutely, their sullen expressions making it clear that they had no intention of cooperating with him. “You know,” Royce said, “you have nothing to fear from me. I mean you no harm and I have no intention of turning you over to the watch. Since Pip’s well-being apparently rests in my hands at present, don’t you think it would be a good idea if we three came to some sort of understanding?”
Uneasily Jacko and Ben continued to eye him, but after several seconds had passed, Jacko asked bluntly, “Why?”
Royce sighed and admitted unabashedly, “I really have no idea. Let us just say that I am curious about your presence in my kitchen at this hour of the morning and even more intrigued by the portion of your conversation with Pip that I overheard.” When the two young men still displayed no signs of dropping their hostile suspicion, Royce sighed again. In a bored tone of voice he finally said, “We can stand here for what is left of the night, gentlemen ... or we can adjourn to the front salon and have a polite discussion between ourselves—it all depends on what you want to do.”
Confused by his lack of anger and his polite manner with them, Jacko and Ben glanced at each other, Jacko finally asking cautiously, “Wot do you ’ave in mind us talkin’ about, guvnor?”
Royce grimaced. “Well, first of all, you can drop that deplorable accent of yours—remember, I overheard you speaking to Pip, so I am aware that you can speak the King’s English—when you want to.”
Still suspicious of his motives and not dropping their guard one bit, Ben asked, “Wot do you want to know?”
“A number of things,” Royce admitted, “but let us find a more comfortable place in which to talk. If you will carry the candle and walk in front of me, I shall direct you to the salon.” Approaching the table, Royce lit his own candle and his smile faded slightly as he added quietly, “And don’t think of trying anything silly—I’m certain I should have no trouble shooting at least one of you if you try to escape.”
They made it to the front salon without incident, and after quickly lighting several of the wall sconces that graced the room, Royce blew out his own candle and indicated that Ben should do the same. Walking over to the Boulle cabinet that sat against one wall, Royce asked conversationally, “Would you like a brandy or perhaps some cognac?”
Looking more confused and uncertain by the moment, Jacko muttered nervously, “Whatever, it doesn�
��t matter.”
Smiling to himself at their obvious unease, Royce deftly poured three brandies. “Please, seat yourselves. There will be no formality between us.”
After flashing an increasingly anxious glance around the elegant, richly furnished room, Ben said gruffly, “Don’t think we ought to—might get your fine furniture dirty.”
“Well then, I shall just have to purchase some more, won’t I?” Royce said gently, adding with quiet authority, “Don’t be foolish; sit.”
Mindful of their shabby, filthy clothes, Jacko and Ben gingerly sat on the damask-covered sofa, the expensive crystal brandy snifters Royce handed them looking incongruous in their dirt-stained fingers. Wanting to alleviate some of their uneasiness and finding himself inexplicably touched by them, Royce said in a kind voice, “You really do have nothing to fear from me. I was sincere when I said I mean you no harm.”
Like animals that have only known cruelty from men of his station, Jacko and Ben stared at Royce, mistrust warring with the urge to believe what he said. There was silence in the room while several long minutes passed, the Fowlers watching Royce intently, trying to gauge whether he was telling them the truth or not. They must have come to some conclusion, because Ben suddenly asked, “What is it that you want from us?”
Relieved that they appeared willing to talk, Royce settled himself in a sapphire velvet chair across from them and said mildly, “Well, to begin with, I think we should introduce ourselves.... I am Royce Manchester, an American from Louisiana presently visiting London, and you are ... ?”
Still not entirely won over, Jacko took a cautious sip of his brandy before saying unenthusiastically, “I’m Jacko Fowler and this is my brother, Ben.”
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