“Not at all. I’ve come to—”
“What I want to know is, what did she have to do with last night’s raid?” another one asked.
“I beg your pardon,” Katrina said with no small amount of indignation “I came because I read in the paper that Mr Brenner had run into some trouble.”
Oliver scoffed. “Heh, ‘run into some trouble.’ That’s a fine way of puttin’ it.”
“She’s guilty, no doubt,” one of them announced, rolling up his sleeves as if he had a dirty job to do.
“Those blokes took it all. Cleaned us out. Even Brenner’s stash.”
“An’ it’s all ‘er fault!” a man shouted and pointed an accusing finger in her face.
Katrina blinked at the action.
“What to do wif ‘er is the next question.”
“Do away wif ‘er. She knows too much already.”
They were firing statements at her so quick she couldn’t figure out who’d spoken. “Now, gentlemen. You must understand—”
“We understand that you’ve always been able to waltz in and out of here by yer own will since you come to the Den.” Oliver bared his yellow and black teeth at her.
“I smell a rat.”
A tall, dirty ginger Scot, who normally kept to himself, stepped forward. “Or a pigeon.”
“Just a moment. I won’t be spoken to in this manner. I came here tonight to make sure the rest of you leave.”
“Leave? What for?”
“Get yourselves out of town. What if they make Mr Brenner name names?”
“‘E’d never do such.”
“You don’t know that! For heaven’s sake, listen to reason!”
“She has a point, but I still don’t believe she’s innocent of turnin’ Brenner in,” the Scot scoffed, spun on his heel and stalked away from the circle.
Oliver agreed with a nod. “An’ if she didn’t turn ‘im in, then it’s that Jimmy Lock. He wanted out anyway, recall it?”
Every one of their faces turned to her and her entire body went numb. “D-don’t be ridiculous. Jimmy is dead.”
“Is ‘e now?”
“I don’t fink ‘is body was ever found.”
She swallowed, hoping no one noticed. “What does that prove? Perhaps he was…eaten…by dogs or something.”
A stirring of murmured doubt echoed through the filthy lot and she took advantage of it. “Look, all of you, I’m telling the truth. I came here tonight to make sure whoever was left got out of town before anything else happens.”
Oliver finally let her go and chimed in. “This is gettin’ us nowheres. We’d ‘a’ known by now if she was followed, and besides that, ‘er daft suspicions have managed to crawl under my skin. I’m gonna take ‘er advice and leave. It’s safer than stickin’ ‘round ‘ere, anyway.”
One of the other men took Katrina by the arm. “If I find out that bloody Lock had anything to do with this, I’ll ‘unt both of you down and feed you to the dogs meself.”
His grip loosened slightly and she pulled away. “There will be no need for that, I’m sure.” She smoothed her damp hands down the front of her dress.
“I’ll take ‘er outside. The rest of you break it up.” Oliver took hold of her once again and escorted her through an entirely different way than she’d ever taken before. It confused her something dreadful and she suddenly didn’t know north from south. An impulsive dread washed over her, threatening to drown her. Luckily, they ended up in a familiar spot and she relaxed some. Beyond the next corridor and to the right lay Lovat Lane.
“Just so’s you know, I too will be on the lookout for Mr Lock. An’ even if I find out ‘e didn’t have nuffin’ to do with the raid, I’ll dispose of him—properly dis time.”
“I understand,” she said without flinching. He released her and she made her way out, quite hastily, to Lovat Lane.
Katrina hurried along the deserted street, trying to silence the shuffle of her footsteps by walking on the balls of her feet, when a noise sounded behind her. She paused, straining to repeat it in her mind to possibly determine the origin. It had been something between a crackle and the scuff of a shoe. Footsteps—human footsteps. For heaven’s sake, she was almost to the end of Lovat Lane. They couldn’t, wouldn’t have followed her. She’d gone to save them—she’d said her peace and left. Honour demanded that they let her go without incident.
Honour. Thieves had no honour. And without Jimmy and, ironically, without Brenner, Katrina was at the mercy of who was left of the East Side Den of Thieves.
Katrina hiked up her skirts and broke into a run. With terror at her heels and a scream lodged in her throat, her heart strained to pump blood and send energy to her labouring muscles.
Even above her own heavy breathing, there it was—the sound of pounding, hasty footsteps coming from behind. Exactly which thief hunted her, she couldn’t say.
She rounded the first corner, lamenting that she’d long passed the maze of alleyways that had in the past hidden her so well. She had to make it to a populated area—a place where there were dozens of people milling about—then perhaps her pursuer would cry off and leave her be.
But hell if she could find one.
Good God. Has everyone gone to bed? It’s bloody early yet!
Suddenly she was seized from behind, plucked off the ground. She struggled to draw enough air into her lungs to unleash the Devil’s own scream when her captor spoke.
“Goddamn it, Katrina. What the hell do you think you’re doing out here?”
It was Maxwell.
Pins prickled her every nerve ending as she swallowed her shout for help.
“Put me down! Heavens, you scared the shite out of me!”
“I frightened you?” He set her upon the ground and spun her around to face him, hauling her against his body. “You came down here, all alone, placed yourself in that hive and I frightened you? Christ, they could have killed you. Or worse!”
“I’m fine, as you can see,” she murmured, her heart still hammering in her ears. She glanced in the direction of the Den. “Though it would be prudent not to linger. So if you don’t mind, release me and we can get out of here.”
“Oh, now, here’s a lane we’ve travelled down before,” he mocked sardonically. “I’m not letting you go. You’ll run.” He turned, pulling her with him, and strode down the street. “We’ll talk when we get home.”
She had to hasten her steps just to keep up with him. “So all I have to do is run away to get you to sit down for a decent conversation with me?”
Maxwell stopped and manoeuvred her so that she stood in front of him. He glared down at her. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve been trying to talk to you and you’ve succeeded in avoiding me in such an exacting way that I may as well have been pursuing a ghost. I don’t like being ignored, Maxwell, especially when I have something important to say.”
He shoved her aside without letting go and continued on his path, eating up yards with his long strides. “I don’t need to hear your excuses as to why I found you in the arms of another man—”
“Jimmy is not another man. He’s—”
“Someone whom you care deeply for. You admitted it yourself.”
“Ooo, you are impossible!” How could she convince him otherwise? They rounded a corner and Maxwell’s landau came into view. “Look. It’s not what you think. This whole thing is—”
“Not up for debate. Seeing is believing, and I saw you kissing each other. Passionately. It wasn’t a simple greeting, nor was it a peck on the cheek. It was your body pressed to his—your closed eyes. I even heard you murmuring softly to each other—words of love, perhaps?”
Unable to produce a verbal defence, her strangled protest came out in an ineffective squeak.
“You may as well confess. You were so lost in his kisses that you didn’t even hear me enter the stables.”
As angry as he was—which couldn’t possibly suppress the equivalent of her swiftly
mounting fury—he hoisted her into the cab. “If you run now, it will only serve as an admission to your guilt.” She watched with a burning anger in her stomach as he slammed the door behind her, climbed into the driver’s seat and took up the reins.
The carriage lurched forward, and while they sped down the side streets of London, she railed at him. “You don’t understand! I was merely glad he wasn’t dead!” Maxwell didn’t respond. “You idiot! You sit in judgement from that high throne of yours and you have no idea what’s really going on! And I thought you so damned smart.”
After a few moments, she realised that the glass window between the cab and the driver’s seat was preventing her from being heard. If there was one thing in this world that made her as mad as a wet hornet, it was when someone refused to communicate. Her bloody father used to do that to her when she needed to voice her opinion. Well, hell if she was going to sit there and do nothing. She reached up, detached the leather strap that held the transparent barrier in place, lowered it down and watched it disappear into the slot between the seats. Cold air rushed into the cab, but she didn’t care. Katrina climbed over the window opening, her skirts shoving up to her waist, blowing in the wind, and she slid into the seat next to Maxwell.
He glanced at her, his full lips pursed in annoyance.
“Stop this carriage at once, Maxwell! We need to hash this out before we get to Hamilton Place!”
“And why is that?”
“Because I won’t have you screaming at me in front of the staff.” It was a stupid excuse, but she figured she needed to appeal to his sensibilities somehow.
Maxwell was considering her request, she could sense it.
Finally, resignation showed on his face and he pulled the horses to a stop. Had they been there during the day, the shops would have been filled with people, but at this late hour, they were closed for the night.
At once he took her into his arms and kissed her, his mouth brutally devouring hers. She let him kiss her, participating occasionally when the pressure of his lips would let up. However, just as quickly, he drew her forward again, silently demanding her submission. He slid one of his hands from her waist to caress the outside of her thigh, her hip, her bottom—his palm heating the cotton of her drawers, threatening to ignite the fabric.
When he tangled his fingers in the bow that held the undergarment in place, Katrina moaned her encouragement. Frantic with the want of him, she tore her lips from his. “Yes, take me, Maxwell. I want you. Only you.”
In the process of tugging at the tie, he stilled. “No.” And he released her.
“Maxwell. Don’t do this.” She pressed her body to his side and tried to loop her arms around his neck. “Please…” When he didn’t react, her voice trailed off.
“I’m not going to give you what you want. I’m going to punish you.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“Not that kind of punishment,” he murmured bitterly. “In my present impassioned state I wouldn’t be able to control myself and your bottom would be blistered for real.”
Katrina opened her mouth, but again, when confronted with having to defend her own honour, she couldn’t find the words.
“No. I’ll take you home and you can visit your lover for your needs.” He retrieved the reins and snapped the horses into a trot.
Through her tears, the rest of the ride home was a blur.
Chapter Twenty-One
The four weeks leading up to Brenner’s trial were lonesome ones. Maxwell had successfully avoided Katrina and Katrina didn’t dare seek out Jimmy’s company. She felt as if she were stranded on a deserted island. She’d read nearly ever damned book in Maxwell’s library that remotely interested her but was lonelier than she’d ever been in her life. The only persons she conversed with were Mrs Dillard and Simmons, but day-to-day business didn’t produce the same effect in her heart as friendly companionship would have.
Early on, she’d received a note from Susanna. Because Katrina hadn’t been called as a witness, there was no need for her to attend the trial. She was told not to worry about Susanna, as Charles had arranged it so that she could give her testimony directly to the judge and in front of the attorneys while remaining anonymous to the public. Whereas this information removed a significant load off Katrina’s shoulders, Maxwell yet avoided her, which fed her psyche a different class of torment.
In fact, he hadn’t appeared at any of the meals served in his own dining room since the hearing had started five days ago.
Even the way she kept up on the progression of Brenner’s trial felt as if she were set apart from society. Her host, slyer than the Devil himself, had one of the staff cut articles from various newspapers and have them delivered to her wherever she was the moment they arrived at the house. It frustrated her beyond measure that Maxwell wouldn’t even hold a relevant conversation with her.
She had no idea what he had planned for her once the trial was over. Would he immediately have her thrown onto the street? Would he send her a note to have her things out in twenty-four hours? Would he give her any sort of recommendation at all? Her mind whirred with similar, endless torments that churned the contents of her stomach into bricks.
Then there was the matter of her heart. If she had the good fortune of actually finding a decent place to live, could she ever trust again or would the winter of her life arrive to find a lonely, bitter old spinster? Katrina felt her emotions on the verge of breaking once again. Oh, Maxwell—
“My goodness, it’s dark in here,” Susanna said as she entered. She threw open the draperies of the parlour, bringing Katrina out of her gloomy thoughts.
Katrina thrust aside her sorrow and held up her hand to shield her eyes from the late-afternoon sunlight. “Is it over?”
Susanna sat next to her on the settee and stripped off her gloves. “Indeed it is,” she beamed. “We won. Your friend Mr Lock, that is, Mr Blaylock, the one I thought murdered, has been pardoned for his testimony. I was sure he’d be mobbed by all the women who swooned over him. And that awful Mr Brenner is going to be tossed into Newgate for twenty years. I think he should have got life, but Charles says the defence attorney was a clever chap.”
“I’m so happy for you and Lord Kendrick, Susanna. It was a well-deserved victory, to be sure.” Katrina’s smile was sincere, regardless of the uncertainty of her immediate circumstances. “It must have been very exciting for you.”
“Indeed. My very favourite part, aside from the reading of the sentence, was when that Madame Dubois testified. She’s rather beautiful for a woman of her age.”
“Who is Madame Dubois?”
Susanna leant forward as if she were about to reveal a great secret. “Why, Madame Dubois owns a bordello!” she whispered. “Very scandalous.”
“Odd that her name didn’t make the papers.”
“Let’s just say she didn’t make the newspapers.”
“Oh, I see. What did she say at the trial?”
“Apparently, just before his arrest, Mr Brenner had been recovering from a visit to Madame Dubois, where he was somehow able to acquire valuables from the place. Madame Dubois offered descriptions of the stolen items that just happened to have been taken from Mr Brenner’s hideout.”
“When you said ‘recovering’, what exactly did you mean?”
“Well,” Susanna was back to whispering again, “I’ve heard tell that at Madame Dubois’, they practise all sorts of naughty things on their clientele.”
This intrigued Katrina, remembering Maxwell’s hidden room she’d probably never see again. “Like what, do you suppose?”
“Oh, heavens. Playing pony and capture and having spankings… You know, things one should only do in the privacy of one’s own home. I’ve read about such places in my Marvels, but the written imagery didn’t go into nearly as much detail as what I’ve heard on the street.”
“On the street, as in…?”
“Well, not exactly ‘the street’ but from some of the ladies in my circle�
�and some from Charles.” She’d added the latter so quickly, Katrina almost didn’t hear it.
“Ah.” Poor Susanna’s cheeks were as red as strawberries. Katrina decided to change the subject before the dear girl ignited like a firework. “So, where are Maxwell and your husband at the moment?”
“Well, Charles was set upon by the papers the second he stepped onto the pavement, and Maxwell agreed to stay with him until the crush retreated. Mr Lock, or rather Mr Blaylock’s hackney pulled ‘round back just as I was jumping out of mine to come see you.”
“Thank you, Susanna. Had it not been for your visit, I would have had to wait until the papers come out tomorrow to hear how it all turned out.”
“Then it is as I suspected. You and Maxwell have had a tiff.”
“A tiff is putting it lightly. How did you figure it out?”
“Simply that my brother hasn’t spoken of you in what seems like weeks.”
Katrina deflated some. “I’m afraid it’s over, Susanna. Maxwell—”
“Nonsense. I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s true. I’m not even sure if I’ll be allowed to stay here now that the trial is over. I’m hoping at least he’ll let me stay until I can find a suitable situation.”
“You won’t be going anywhere. I know my brother and you have nothing to fear. After he barks some—and, trust me on this, his bite is virtually non-existent. What happens next is that he gets very quiet. He retreats. He goes into hibernation, but eventually he’ll warm back up.”
Katrina didn’t want to argue with her friend. “We’ll see,” was all she offered.
Susanna patted her on the knee. “Now go freshen up and put on that glorious smile of yours. Maxwell should be home soon and we will all be able to put the wretchedness of this trial behind us. I should like to have you and Maxwell ‘round for supper on Friday.” From somewhere in the house, a clock struck five. “Heavens, I must be going.” She began to pull on her gloves.
“Can’t you stay for some tea? How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”
“No, my dear. And don’t worry about me. I have a few more visits to make before I head home and I’m sure to be plied with pre-supper refreshments until I can no longer move.”
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