by Brenda Novak
Rat tapped his foot, wondering if perhaps he was at the wrong place. But the sign above the door read GREENTREE TAVERN, just like Lord Clifton’s note had said. Rat had asked three different gentlemen, just to be sure.
Just when he was about to give up, the door opened again, and the duke stepped in. Greystone’s dark hair was tinged with gray at the temples, and he was elegantly garbed in a greatcoat of the finest wool. One bejeweled hand clenched the ivory crook of a cane. A footman, dressed in livery, stood at his heels.
Rat let his breath go in relief. The next few minutes would make him a very rich man.
He waved to get the duke’s attention.
Greystone nodded to his servant, who immediately turned and headed back outside, evidently to wait with the coach. Then he made his way toward the table.
“Yer Grace.” Rat stood and offered the duke a deep bow. “‘Ow good of ye to come.”
Greystone’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s dispense with the formalities, shall we? You have something I want.”
“Aye, Yer Grace. But, please, won’t ye sit down?”
Rat motioned to one side of the tall booth, realizing that the power he had felt earlier must have been an illusion. This man paid homage to no one, for any reason.
“Please,” Rat said again when a serving maid hurried to their table to ask the duke his pleasure.
The nobleman grudgingly relinquished his coat and cane to the maid, but refused refreshment. “Do you have the information I need or not?” he asked as soon as the girl left.
“Aye, Yer Grace. There is the small matter of price—”
“Considering you’re the thief my housekeeper ran off, and were among the pirates who have raided my ships, you’re hardly in a position to dictate terms,” he interrupted.
Sweat beaded on Rat’s upper lip. “But Yer Grace! ‘Twas never proved that I took those candelabras, an’ I was only the ship’s servant. I took no part in the plunderin’. I offered my assistance to yer son, certainly that proves my intentions were honorable from the start.”
“Honorable?” the duke scoffed. “I’m no fool. You’re motivated only by greed.” His fingers drummed on the table. “What is your price? Perhaps the knowledge that I am aware of your past will keep you honest.”
A pretty young woman with a low décolletage sidled up to the table and smiled at the duke. When Greystone glanced up, she curtseyed. “I’ve been worried, Yer Grace. I ‘eard ye was ill.”
“As you can see, I have recovered,” he told her.
“And it’s glad I am. It’s been a long time.” She lowered her lashes. “Too long.”
“Later,” the duke replied tersely. “Wait for me.” He waved his hand, and the woman moved away to hover in a corner.
Rat was too preoccupied with the large emerald glittering from one of Greystone’s many rings to be distracted for long. He quickly forgot the woman as he wrestled with his greed, lost his nerve somewhat, and backed off the five-thousand-pound figure he had hoped to achieve. “One thousand pounds,” he ventured.
“I’ll give you ten pounds,” the duke replied. “And I won’t report you to the authorities.”
“But Yer Grace, I came ‘ere to be of service to ye at great risk to myself—”
“You look whole enough to me. Make no mistake. I will capture Nathaniel Kent with or without your help. It is only a matter of sooner or later.”
Rat felt the blood rise to his face. “Twenty pounds or I tell ye nothin’,” he said, seething. His information had to be worth at least that much. The marquess had been far too eager to receive it.
“Perhaps you misunderstood me.” The fire raging in the pub’s hearth reflected in the duke’s eyes. “My terms are not negotiable, and trust me, you do not wish to have me as your enemy.” He raised a hand to summon the proprietor.
The maid who had taken his coat came immediately to the table and dipped into a deep curtsey. “Can I get ye somethin’, Yer Grace?”
“Yes. You can contact a constable—”
“All right!” Rat almost choked on his words. “Certainly there’s no need for that.”
“Indeed.” A grin curled Greystone’s lips as he waved the girl away, mumbling something about changing his mind. “Now then, where is the troublesome one who calls himself Dragonslayer?”
Rat hated to sell his information so cheaply, but he could figure no way to wheedle any more money out of the duke. He remembered the days he’d spent locked up in the ship’s hold. At least Nathaniel deserved it. “Right ‘ere in London,” he said.
Greystone’s eyebrows shot up. “Here? Where?”
“I’m not sure exactly. ‘Is men returned from London only ‘ours before I slipped away, but I over ‘eard one of ‘em say ‘e’s seein’ a woman who’s stayin’ with a doctor. I think the man’s name is Dr. Watts. Lives somewhere on Broad Street, just off Oxford Road.”
“Yes. That makes sense.” The duke rubbed his chin. “The Golden Crown isn’t far from Broad Street. And his ship?”
“‘Is ship, Yer Grace?”
“His ship! Where is his ship?”
“In Newcastle. The crew is awaitin’ its captain there.”
“Excellent.” Greystone smiled, then shot a glance at the young woman who was waiting for him.
Rat followed his gaze, more than a little disgruntled by the nagging feeling that he was losing the duke’s interest. “ An’ my money, Yer Grace?”
“Not so quickly. Once a thief, always a thief—and a liar. That’s God’s own truth. If you would betray Nathaniel, you would betray me. Dogs like you will do anything for money. What proof do I have that what you have told me is the truth?”
“I ‘ave no reason to lie—”
“You have ten pounds as reason and had a hope of one thousand. I’ll not pay the likes of you ten pence. Now get out of here before I call the authorities. You’re lucky to escape with your skin.”
The woman across the room blew the duke a kiss, and Greystone stood up.
“But Yer Grace. We ‘ad a bargain. Ten pounds is nothin’ to ye,” Rat cried.
“Not turning you in was part of that bargain. That is the part I will keep if you leave immediately. I’ll not have the likes of you dunning me for money.”
Rat wanted to call the duke a thief and a liar, but he was now convinced that the nobleman was more dangerous than he had ever imagined.
“Be gone.” Greystone waved Rat off with obvious distaste.
Knowing it would be futile to plead, Rat left his ale and hurried out into the rainy night. He glanced back just in time to see the duke signal the young woman to approach him.
* * *
“Where did you find her?” Dr. Watts whispered so he wouldn’t wake Alexandra.
“St. Giles Street.” Nathaniel ran his fingers along Alexandra’s arm. “A man she sewed for was planning to sell her into prostitution. Fortunately, I got there first.”
Tutty’s eyes grew round. “Poor child. I shudder to think what might have happened.”
“I tried to tell her London was no place for a young girl to gallivant around in.” Dr. Watts peered over glasses that rested halfway down his nose. “Perhaps now she will listen.”
Nathaniel grunted. Such sentiments came easily to someone with a comfortable home and the means to survive. Alexandra didn’t possess those luxuries. He knew she’d done only what she felt she had to.
He sighed. Now he had to do the same. As dangerous as the city could be, Alexandra was better off in London than accompanying him. He was out of time. He had to leave for Newcastle—without her.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” the doctor said. “I’ve a colleague coming in just a few minutes. When the laudanum wears off, your sister will be good as new, thanks to you.”
“Don’t let me keep you.” Nathaniel stood, but couldn’t relinquish his contact with Alexandra so soon. “I was just leaving myself.”
Dr. Watts turned back. “Leaving, you say?”
“Aye.” Na
thaniel reluctantly pulled away from Alexandra and followed him to the door. “I’d like to keep our arrangement as before, if possible. I have pressing business.”
“That’s fine, if that’s what you want. And don’t worry about your sister. We won’t let her out of our sight again, at least not until she has secured a position with a reputable shop.”
“I can’t tell you how much that relieves my mind.” Nathaniel hated to manipulate Dr. Watts and Tutty, but if anyone needed someone to keep her out of trouble, Alexandra did, whether she acknowledged it or not. Or perhaps he needed their reassurances to make a difficult parting easier.
He was just about to pass outside when a backward glance told him Alexandra was awake.
“Nathaniel?”
“I’m here,” he said, moving back to her bed.
“Are you well?”
“I’m faring better than you are.”
She tried to laugh. “I thought I’d found employment.”
“You got more than you bargained for.”
She cringed. “How did you find me?”
“I traced your steps from dress shop to dress shop, but there were several times your trail went cold. If it hadn’t been for Mariah, I probably never would have found you.”
“She told you where I was?”
“She told me what she thought had happened to you. She didn’t know exactly where Gunther’s brothel was, but between her help and a bit of money in other places, I extracted the information I needed. I’m just glad I found you in time.” He smoothed the hair back out of her face, and their eyes met and held for a moment. Nathaniel was tempted to kiss her; but he doubted he could temper his desire into an expression of affection appropriate to brother and sister. Tutty was still in the room, fussing about. He put his hand on Alexandra’s cheek instead and rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb.
“Richard is back,” he told her.
She smiled. “Good. Tell him he owes me. If it weren’t for him I’d never have”—she glanced at Tutty’s back—”gone to sea.”
He nodded. “The two of you will have to meet someday.”
“Will we?” Alexandra studied him.
“I hope so.”
“Is Jake home?” she asked, using Clifton’s given name so Tutty wouldn’t know who she was talking about.
“He should be by now.”
“Have you heard anything from… his father?”
“No news is good news, as they say.” He gave her a weak grin.
“Or it’s the calm before the storm.” Alexandra’s hand found his.
“I have to go.”
“I’m coming with you this time.” She tried to get up, but Nathaniel pressed her back.
“You know I can’t take you.”
“Then why did you return?”
Her eyes challenged him, and Nathaniel felt a moment of helplessness. Why indeed? It had been a foolish concession to his heart, but he wasn’t willing to explain that. “I don’t know. I’m just glad I did.”
“But I’m feeling better already.” With a glint of determination sparkling in her eye, she spoke louder, causing Tutty to turn toward them. “And you promised Mother you’d never leave me.”
Nathaniel dropped his voice to a threatening level. “Alexandra, don’t play games. There is no better place for you right now.”
A sympathetic look crossed Tutty’s face as the housekeeper went about her business.
“I can’t take her, Tutty,” Nathaniel explained, stepping away from the bed. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“Of course, Mr. Kent,” she said, but her expression held a hint of accusation.
Nathaniel turned back to Alexandra. “If things were different, perhaps…” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll not make empty promises. I have to go.”
Alexandra’s lids lowered in defeat, then fluttered open again. “Be careful,” she whispered.
He nodded, wishing he’d left before she’d awakened. It was more difficult this way. Bending, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Leave word with the good doctor as to your whereabouts, will you?”
She nodded.
After saying good-bye to Mrs. Tuttle, Nathaniel headed out the door. The rain was gone but the fog persisted, making him damp within minutes. He frowned at the bothersome weather as he mounted his horse, then tried to turn his mind to what lay ahead instead of the lovely woman he was leaving behind.
Soon he would be on the sea again, where the heavens were clearly visible, stretching forever above him; where the stars were so bright they looked as though he could pluck them from the sky. Closing his eyes, he pictured the serenity of a calm night on the ocean. He could even feel the gentle rocking of the ship—until his head exploded in pain as something hit him from behind, and the ground rushed up to meet him.
Chapter 15
When Nathaniel awoke, he could barely open his eyes for the pounding in his head. He squinted at first, trying to take in his surroundings.
“I think he’s waking up.”
The voice, though muted, had a quality Nathaniel recognized.
“He’s beginning to stir. Go get my father.”
Where was he? The blurry images surrounding Nathaniel were unfamiliar. Everything was strange except for that voice.
“Where am I?” he croaked, tasting dried blood. He tried to lift himself from the bed on which he lay, but fell back as a wave of nausea overcame him.
“You’ re where you’ve always wanted to be, big brother,” Lord Clifton responded. “With your family. Do you find it to your liking?”
A flood of memory engulfed Nathaniel, and he closed his eyes against it. His half brother had been there, as well as the duke. He had been surrounded, attacked from all sides. Though he had fought as best he could without a weapon—and had taken down more than a few men—he had been too befuddled from their initial blow to last very long, or to escape. There had been too many of them.
Nathaniel opened his eyes again to survey the room. While expensively decorated, it was too lavish for his tastes and rather impersonal. A hotel perhaps?
“Back with us, eh?” The voice had changed. This time Nathaniel was sure of the speaker: it was his father.
“For now,” he managed, licking his swollen upper lip.
“We were beginning to wonder if perhaps we had been a little overzealous in apprehending the thief who has plagued my ships these past months.”
“Zealous is a good word.” Nathaniel blinked as the man leaning above him came more clearly into focus. It was indeed Greystone, his handsome face twisted in a sneer.
“You gave us little choice, Mr. Kent. Believe me, a few of my men are not as well-off as you seem to be.”
Nathaniel struggled to voice some response, but his eyes closed of their own accord, causing the duke to speak sharply to someone who stood at the periphery of the room.
“Fetch a glass of water. I don’t want him lapsing into unconsciousness again.”
It seemed as though an eternity passed before someone raised Nathaniel’s head and pressed a glass of water to his lips.
“Drink.” The word came as a command, but it did not need to be repeated. Nathaniel was parched. He greedily gulped the cool water while trying to determine how many men were in the room. At some point, he had to get away.
He counted at least five, including his father and Clifton. Unfortunately, he was in too much pain to handle even one.
“How did you find me?” he asked, becoming lucid again.
The duke laughed. “A little money in the right places usually provides what I want. Your crew is not so loyal as you may think.”
Nathaniel knew differently. He’d trust any one of his men with his life—any one except… He groaned. “Rat.”
“There’s always a weak link.” Greystone gave him a dramatic sigh. “Unfortunately, you found one in my world, as well. Mary. Wasn’t that her name?”
“What have you done with her?”
“Thanks to your man, Richar
d, she escaped. But I believe he received his just due for that one.”
Nathaniel nodded, remembering Richard’s bruised face. So that was the crux of it. Leave it to him to make light of his bravery.
“Where is my cargo?” the duke asked.
The marquess’s hate-contorted face came into view as the two of them waited anxiously for Nathaniel’s answer.
“I don’t know,” Nathaniel said with a smile.
“Come now. I’ll find out eventually, you know. You’re in no condition to refuse me.”
“You’ll rot in hell before I tell you anything.”
Nathaniel was unprepared for the vicious blow Clifton struck him from the other side of the bed. His head swam. He groaned and struggled against the darkness that threatened to overtake him again.
“Jake!” the duke bellowed. “I’ll not have you knock him senseless before I find out what I want to know. Are you as big a fool as he?”
“But father—” Clifton protested.
“Leave!”
The marquess shuffled reluctantly from the room.
When the door closed behind him, Greystone turned back to Nathaniel.
“You are a stubborn man,” he said, “but then, so am I. Perhaps you don’t understand the depth of my power. I am a peer, a cousin to royalty. I help to control the electoral system, fill the benches in both houses of Parliament, command the militia, and monopolize the magistracy.”
“Who gives a damn? You don’t control me.” Nathaniel’s words were soft, but he had never meant anything more in his life.
The duke’s jaw clenched. “My servants would say you have a good deal of pluck, but do you truly think you can withhold anything from me?”
“If you don’t release me, my first mate will send a message to Chief Commissioner Mayne informing him about the rifles you tried to sell to the czar. I think we both know the punishment for treason.”
“You’re joking, of course.” The duke stared daggers at Nathaniel. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. How dare you threaten me with such nonsense.”
“Call it what you will. I’ve seen the guns with my own eyes, and so will Commissioner Mayne.”