Eliza looked into his dark eyes and took in unwavering determination in his face. He wasn’t going anywhere, and she considered neither would she until he had some answers. But Eliza had learnt from the past few months that life – people – could be cruel, and she had lost her faith in the goodness of human nature. Whatever the reasons he wanted to find Jemima, she had a sneaking suspicion it was for his own interests – not hers.
Ignoring the shiver of awareness, she returned his unwavering stare.
Edward mentally cursed as he looked at the determination squaring her chin. He had hoped that by making her uncomfortable she would tell all; however the girl – woman – was no fool and had clearly decided to play him at his own game. He mentally smiled, and wondered just how far he could push her. He didn’t hesitate to change his game plan and felt a thrill of anticipation sweep through him at the challenge.
“We think she has gotten herself into some trouble and needs help getting out of it. A friend of mine is looking for her to help her.” He smiled gently, relishing her resistance.
His smile made her nerves tingle. “Who?”
The man was an innate charmer who seemed to have seduction running through his veins. She tried not to allow her inward struggle to show, but she was having difficulty keeping up with the swift changes in him. He seemed to flicker from battle-hardened warrior, to silken seducer in a blink of an eye. She didn’t like feeling so off guard.
“I will tell you that another time. Now tell me what you know about her.” Edward sat forward, smiling slightly as she immediately eased backwards. He was fully aware she had been studying him. His entire body was locked on the slow glide of her curious gaze burning over him. It gave him an idea on how to get the information he needed from her, if only he could get her alone.
“I don’t know anything.” Eliza murmured with a quick glance backwards at a particularly loud burst of laughter from the far corner of the main tap room.
Her gaze was captured by Bernard’s glare as he stomped past her line of vision, and she knew she was about to be lambasted for fraternising with the customers who weren’t paying her for her services. She glanced at the new arrival warily.
“I don’t know where Jemima has disappeared to.” She replied honestly as she pushed to her feet. “I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”
Edward mentally cursed, wondering if he had left it too long. Whatever feminine interest she had in him she had clearly set aside because her face was now closed and distant as she made to leave him.
“Are you friends with Jemima?” Edward pushed watching as she paused, clearly reluctant to tell him too much.
“She is my sister.” Eliza replied quietly before quickly turning away and returning to work.
Edward cursed roundly. Of all of the replies he had expected it certainly hadn’t been that one. He didn’t think Peter knew Jemima had a sister. They had all spent several months looking for just Jemima - no sister. How could Peter not know she had one?
Everything within him froze as he stared in dawning horror at the woman who had returned to slapping tankards on tables.
Was she being honest? Or was she in fact Jemima?
Chapter Two
He should probably head straight over to Havistock Hall and send word to Peter, but something kept him in his seat. He had never been so captivated by a woman before, so ensnared in her feminine allure that he couldn’t tear himself away, and that was the crux of the problem. That’s what pushed him to take another drink of the watered down brandy and settle back to watch the woman who intrigued him.
She moved with a lithe grace that was poetry in motion to watch. She ducked and swayed past the groping hands, scowling occasionally when one got too close. He watched the interplay, wondering how long it would be before she finished for the night and he could make his move. Whether she was Jemima, or Eliza didn’t matter. Somehow he had to persuade her to go to Leicestershire with him. Given her earlier reluctance to trust him, he knew that was not going to be an easy task.
She was pretty enough. He could understand why Peter was so absorbed by her, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand why she would want to remain hidden. What kind of trouble was she in? He eyed her feminine curves with masculine appreciation. If she was Jemima, then as far as Edward was concerned she was as far out of his reach as humanly possible. He wouldn’t touch someone who had captured his brother-in-law’s heart.
He studied her as she took a quick break behind the bar. She was turned towards him, giving him a full view of her face. He drank in her features, the tiredness was evident but there was also defiance in the upward tilt of her chin that was impressive. Despite her exhaustion and the difficult circumstances in which she worked, there was still a calm resolution in her face. Even knowing that a brief dalliance between them wasn’t possible, he felt a surge of almost pride for her fortitude. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what price she paid for her hardened resolve. Given the world-weary cynicism he had seen in her face earlier, he considered it a shame that such beauty was tarnished by her brutal lifestyle and wondered if removing her to Leicestershire was indeed the best thing for her.
Regardless of his masculine interest in her and his sympathies for her current situation, he knew there could be nothing between them, however fleeting. If she was indeed Jemima, then she was Peter’s intended bride and far out of his reach. If she was Eliza, then she wasn’t the kind of woman for a brief dalliance and the last thing she needed was to be seduced by her future brother-in-law.
He cringed inwardly as the prospect of marriage loomed darkly before him. With a shudder he quickly closed the notion off and turned his attention back to his drink. It was best for everyone if he just discovered her secrets and then left. It was down to Peter then to find out who she really was.
Later that evening, having drunk as much of the watered brandy as he could stand, he made his way out of the tavern to use the privy at the rear of the property. Nobody noticed him melt into the shadows and minutes later enter the back corridor of the tavern, and it was just the way he liked it.
Not only was the tavern run-down and barely habitable, it was located in one of the most disreputable areas of Derby. One didn’t go anywhere without something sharp to hand with the chances of being relieved of your valuables being increased tenfold. He had learned long ago that being able to move around undetected had its benefits and in a location such as this, could undoubtedly safe not only his purse strings, but his life.
The long, dark corridor ran the length of the inn, with several doors opening to one side. As he entered, the raucous sounds of revelry from the main tap rang loudly in the air, but it was the conversation being held in one of the side rooms that commanded his immediate attention.
He paused, and melted into the shadows to listen.
“I won’t do it, I told you.” Her voice was loud and defiant as it rang hollowly down the empty corridor.
“And I told you missy that I expect you to take your place upstairs.”
Unless Edward was much mistaken, the man Eliza was talking to was Bernard, the innkeeper. Edward leaned his broad shoulders against the rough stone wall and waited.
“You are not turning me into one of your whores.”
Even from outside of the room, Edward could hear the tinge of fear that laced her voice, and mentally cursed the lumbering brute of a man who would try to force her to such depravity.
“You will do as you are damned well told girl. You are under my roof, and are bloody useless as a wench. No customer of mine wants their ale thrown at ‘em. I got customers who will pay good money for a turn with you, and you’ll give ‘em what they want. Do you hear me? You will - or you will leave.” Bernard’s voice was unrelenting as he lay down his orders, clearly expecting to bully her into submission.
“Then pay me what you owe me and I will leave.” Eliza spat defiantly, refusing to be pushed. “I have been working here for months and you haven’t paid me a penny.”
“I’ve been putting a roof over your head ain’t I? I’ve fed you, and put up with you throwing drinks at my customers? And now you want paying!” Bernard laughed harshly. “You’ll get nothing from me gal; nothing but the back of my hand.”
“I’m not being a whore and that’s final.”
Eliza gasped as despite his ample girth, Bernard moved swiftly across the room and grabbed her chin in a rough hold, pushing his face close to hers. She could see the vile lust burning in the depths of his black eyes and shivered in alarm. She remained stubbornly motionless as his heavy body pushed her against the wall as his wet, sloppy lips landed over hers. His hot, putrid breath was enough to make her feel sick and Eliza immediately fought to free herself. But her smaller stature and lighter weight was no match against his girth and she made little headway in releasing his brutal hold. Tears flooded her eyes as a meaty paw grasped roughly at her breast and began to squeeze tight.
The slamming of a door seemed to break Bernard’s attention away from her for several seconds and it was all Eliza needed to create some distance between them. Quickly lifting her knee, she pushed roughly at his shoulders and issued him a healthy smack on the side of his head. Her fury burned, as she wiped her wet mouth with the back of her hand.
“If you ever touch me again, I will kill you.” She spat, her voice cold.
“You’ll pay for that.” Bernard snarled, holding his privates tenderly. “You’ll bloody well do as you are told. Get upstairs, you are taking your first customer or you get out of this Tavern now.”
“Pay me what you owe me and I’ll leave.” Eliza gasped as her cheek stung from the force of the slap Bernard dealt her.
“You give the clients what they want and if I hear of any arguments, you won’t be fit for purpose by the time I’m through with you. It’s either them or me, or the streets. Take your pick.”
Eliza swallowed against the lump in her throat and wondered if she was going to lose the contents of her nearly empty stomach all over his boots. It would serve him right if she did. She thought to herself as she stared at him blankly. His orders given, Bernard clearly considered the subject dropped and returned to work, disappearing down into the cellar with a grunt.
In the silence of the room, Eliza fought to choke down a sob and took a moment to steady her nerves.
That was it then, she had no choice now. She had to leave but where could she go? Jemima had vanished and was God only knew where. Her father was dead and without the pay Bernard owed her, she had no money to live off. She simply could not leave until she had the wages that were rightly hers.
But to get hold of the money from Bernard’s desk, she needed to remain at the tap until it had closed, then she could leave in the night without risk of being caught. Given the part of the city the tap was located in, it was incredibly risky for any woman to be out on the streets but she really had no other choice.
Unfortunately that left her with a problem of how to get through the rest of the evening without meeting the clients Bernard intended to send up. She simply was not going to become one of Bernard’s working girls. She had not been paid anything since her arrival; the food she had been given was meagre at best and the work endless and exhausting. But the girls upstairs were in an even worse position.
Her thoughts briefly turned to the man in the corner of the tap room but she immediately dismissed the possibility of seeking his help. He could be working for Scraggan, and couldn’t be trusted. If he wasn’t one of Scraggan’s cohorts, he was clearly gentry and he wanted Jemima, not her. No matter how handsomely menacing he was, she couldn’t expect a stranger to step in and help her.
She staggered out of the room, her eyes blank with horror as the reality of her current predicament dawned on her. Having issued his orders, Bernard clearly wasn’t expecting her to go back to serving in the tap room – it was enough to buy her the time to collect her few meagre belongings. She was lost in thought, trying to figure out how to get out of the tavern without being seen preferably before Bernard sent up her first ‘client’, and didn’t notice the man dressed in black move silently into the room she had just left and quietly close the door.
Edwards temper burned. It had taken every ounce of self control he possessed to stand back and allow the events in the office to unfold. A surge of unfamiliar masculine possessiveness had swept through him as he had watched the big man maul Eliza. The hand that had grabbed at her breast was enough for Edward who himself had slammed the door with more force than was necessary.
He had stood in the protection of the shadows and watched Eliza take advantage of the respite she had been given and was intensely proud of her for her fortitude and quick thinking in kneeing the man. Edward himself could think of a lot worse things to do to him. The look of horror on her face as she left the room increased his unfamiliar protectiveness towards her. While he had breath in his body, Eliza was not going to be whoring herself, especially to the patrons at this hell-hole.
With a glint of retribution in his eye, Edward carefully closed the door and waited for the lecherous Bernard to reappear.
Desperation clawed at her as she stumbled upstairs, shaken and terrified. She ignored the catcalls and lewd suggestions from the tap room’s occupants that followed her and quickly slammed the door to her room behind her, blocking out the mocking laughter. Unfortunately it didn’t have a lock – Bernard refused to allow them, so she knew the risks were still very real.
Her stomach quivered in fear as she frantically collected a small mound of her belongings from around the small room, although why she was bothering she wasn’t sure. They certainly didn’t have any sentimental value, most were just small items she had picked up while on her travels with Jemima. But they were still hers and she was loathed to leave them behind for Bernard or her replacement. Besides the relatively mundane activity gave her something to do with her hands while she considered how best to get out of the building.
She couldn’t sleep with anyone. She simply couldn’t become a whore. She had spent many nights when the tap room was closed listening to the sounds coming from the rooms on either side of her room, and had heard enough stories from the girls who worked there to know she couldn’t face the prospect of being subjected to such degradation. She knew Bertram frequented the girls himself and would take great delight in using her as well, most probably as brutally as possible.
She ignored the bawdy dress lying on the bed, obviously left by one of the girls at Bernard’s command. In red silk with tattered black lace edging, its days of being attractive were long gone. It was gaudy and cheap and a stark reminder of what awaited her if she didn’t get herself away from the current threat. Her mind flew this way and that and she fought to suppress the fear that clawed at her. She quickly snatched the dress up and lifting the sash window, threw the horrid item out into the bushes. Briefly she looked down at the ground, mentally calculating if she could jump. It was an awfully long way. Even if she could hit the ground on her feet, there was nothing to say she wouldn’t end up with broken bones and at the mercy of Bernard and his customers. She glanced frantically around the room, desperately looking for inspiration.
She was busy folding the small bundle into a knot, when there was a soft knock on the door. Eliza’s stomach dropped. She didn’t want to answer it in case it was Bernard and he had decided he was going to be her first customer. But she couldn’t leave the man standing at the door. Frantically she glanced around the room, considering the window for a few moments before snatching the heavy candle stick off the rickety wooden dresser. Quickly she extinguished the small flame and tucked the stick into the pouch beside the bed.
A seed of a plan began to tentatively grow and she sucked in a deep breath to calm her fraying nerves. Another knock at the door had her lowering the front of her dress suggestively before moving to stand beside the bed, her belongings at her feet. She didn’t know if her plan had any hope of working, but if it failed she could at least make use of the candlestick.
Takin
g in another deep breath she called for her ‘client’ to enter.
She briefly considered using the candlestick there and then as she watched the scarred wooden door slowly open. The moonlight did little to eradicate the gloom within the tiny unlit room and she could see little of the man who entered but could feel his presence as he slowly entered and closed the door behind him.
Eliza stood quivering with sickening nerves and waited for him to approach. She knew it wasn’t Bernard, or any of the drunken regulars downstairs. They would have stumbled in making as much noise as possible. Despite her fear, her innate curiosity was piqued at just who had decided to avail themselves of her ‘services’ first.
Her heart hammered in her throat so loudly she was certain the men downstairs could hear her trepidation as she stood and watched the shadows in the far corner of the room. She was aware that he hadn’t moved or spoken for several moments and wondered if he had indeed entered, when he slowly separated from the shadows; as silent as a wraith in the moonlight.
Her stomach dropped to her toes as she recognised the man in the tap room who had asked so many questions about Jemima. Every nerve within her was locked on his silent approach, as rippling awareness scattered her senses.
Edward stood in the shadows, and took advantage of the gloom to reconnoitre his surroundings. The room was sparsely furnished with a simple wooden dresser and a single bed on the opposite wall. He could hear the rhythmic banging on the wall from the couple in the room next door and shifted uncomfortably as his body responded to the possibility of engaging in such activity with the woman before him.
Quickly banking that thought out he slowly left the shadows and sauntered across the room. He knew she was probably terrified and didn’t want to frighten her any more than was absolutely necessary but the possessive streak in him wanted her to realise just how dire her situation could have become. He wasn’t going to do anything to ruin her but she was undoubtedly worrying that she was facing a life of whoredom.
Chasing Eliza Page 2