Heartless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 3): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series

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Heartless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 3): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series Page 26

by Nicola Claire


  But finally, I acknowledged the truth.

  Andrew had been at my side from the beginning because he wanted to. Because he loved me even when he shouldn’t. Even when he thought there was no chance of me ever being able to love him back.

  Andrew was my rock, my lighthouse, my home and hearth at the end of the day.

  Andrew was mine, and I was his and Eliza May, or whatever name she truly had been born with, would not come between us now.

  “I’m coming with you,” I said.

  He nodded. For I was his equal, and he trusted me to take care of myself.

  Nothing in this cruel world could compare to the type of acceptance he gave me. We women fought hard for equality, we battled injustices daily, but in Andrew Kelly, I’d found my match.

  And in me, he had found unconditional love. For I would ensure I always gave it.

  Sometimes it was the simple things that mattered in a complicated world.

  Love and love alone would win out.

  Everything Is A Game, Darling

  Inspector Kelly

  The streets were teaming with people. The scent of woodsmoke stung our eyes and the inherent odour that permeated the slums threatened to engulf us. Rocks and stones were hurled in the direction of the uniformed officers. Billy clubs flew through the air without conscious thought. Shouts and cries were drowned out by the shattering of glass. Foul smelling dark water was tossed from upper storey windows. The roadways soon became slick with mud.

  Finding anything in this chaos would be impossible, and yet I was certain Eliza May had led us here.

  In short order, we were separated from the bobbies; the Black Maria abandoned at the entrance to Freemans Bay; the horses’ eyes bulging with fear and horror. One constable attempted to keep them controlled, but when a bottle hit the side of the carriage, the horses bolted.

  The officer fell over backwards getting out of the raging horses’ way and ended up going down under a mass of writhing, biting, fist-flying men. I shouted out orders for our mounted patrol to assist him, then issued commands for the rest of the constabulary to attempt to gain order.

  I doubted it would be done in a day.

  “We can’t take the curricles further, sir!” Blackie shouted from his perch beside a cowering Wilhelmina Cassidy.

  “We cannot go on foot either,” I replied, unwilling to take ladies into this disaster.

  “I shall take Miss Cassidy from here,” Blackie informed me. I did not like it. But I could not argue that leading her further into the slums could mean her death. I nodded at the sergeant, who shook his head in dismay at me, but his duty to the woman he loved came first.

  I watched as he carefully encouraged the horse to move backwards and when space presented itself, he turned the vehicle and took himself and Miss Cassidy away.

  “I should have had you go with them,” I growled.

  “Without me, Andrew Kelly, you do not stand a chance,” Anna told me.

  She climbed down from the vehicle, brandishing her parasol, then promptly whacked a man over the head who dared to get too close to her.

  “Davey Stewart!” she shouted. “How dare you think to come against me so! Have I not been to your house? Treated your children? Is this how you repay me?”

  The man in question flicked his eyes to me as I climbed down behind Anna, choosing the path of least resistance to reach her quickly.

  “He is with me,” Anna announced. “And if you wish further cough medicine for young Arnold, then you will ensure we make it through this unscathed.”

  It was difficult to hide my amusement, but I managed. I stepped up to Anna’s back and placed a hand on her shoulder, making sure the man before us knew Anna was mine, even if it was me who was accompanying her on this occasion.

  “Right you are, Doc.” The chap called out to some of his friends, and in no time at all, we were escorted to the far side of the ruckus.

  In doing so, however, we were separated from my men. I watched as the constables attempted to gain some form of order, but with Mrs Hardwick at risk, we could not delay.

  “Where is the man who caused this?” I demanded.

  None of the men who had escorted us answered me.

  Anna sighed, and then straightened her bonnet and dress.

  “Lead on, gentlemen, if you know what is good for you.”

  “Doc,” they all wailed. “He’ll come back; he will. He already shut down the Drake. How’re are we to get by without our libations?”

  “The hotel will be reestablished, I am sure,” Anna advised them. “And since when have you given in to bullies?”

  “He’s no bully, miss. He’s a right meater, he is. He beat old man Jackson to a pulp.”

  “Why was he not brought to me?” Anna demanded.

  “He has your place watched, he does. None of us can get near your surgery unless it’s a common cold. We’ve made do, Doc,” the man said when he saw how this news upset Anna. “We pool your wares and use what we can, and you replenished some the other day when Sally attended you with her young.”

  “I thought that was for the school,” Anna said.

  “Sorry, Doc. We couldn’t take the risk his eyes had ears too.”

  She shook her head; then determination filled her pale features.

  “You will lead myself and Inspector Kelly to this man, and we will end this.”

  The men looked at me again and then back at Anna.

  “Gentleman,” she said, levelly. “I aim to marry Inspector Kelly, and he will reside in my home with me. Will you avoid my surgery then?”

  I stared down at her, this time unable to hide my smile.

  “Your home?” I enquired.

  She turned to look at me. “Of course, my home. You do not expect me to reside at the barracks with you, do you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then it’s settled,” she announced, turning back to the men.

  I hadn’t even asked for her hand in marriage.

  The men looked at me, waiting.

  “I am to marry Dr Cassidy,” I said, sounding not just a little stunned. “And live in her home.”

  A couple sniggered at the back, but the man who had done most of the talking nodded his head and said, “This way, then. They’ve established themselves down at the bay.”

  “In one of the manufactories there?” I asked.

  “In the sawmill there,” the man said, as he led us through narrow allies.

  The noise of the rioting diminished somewhat, and in the quiet that surrounded us, I heard the sounds of Freemans Bay itself. The caw of gulls, the clink of boat tackle, the shouts of workers as they loaded boats and went about their work day.

  As we drew nearer, the odour of the slums was overridden by the scent of brine and the occasional smell of rotten fish. The man who led us came to a stop before the wharves themselves and peered around the corner of a ramshackle warehouse building.

  “There it is, guv,” he said, reminding me of Blackie. I hoped they’d made it back to Franklin Street and he kept Miss Cassidy safe.

  “How long have they been using it?” I asked.

  “On and off for a week, but today’s the first day I seen him with his missus.”

  My fists bunched and I ground my teeth, but I managed to say, “Who else is in there?”

  “Just the meater and his wife, and some woman they drugged in with ‘em.”

  “You did not think to aid the lady?”

  “Not with him there, no, guv. You don’t know what he can do to a man.”

  His knuckles are raw, and his mannerisms are too, and a demon lurks within him.

  “I have a fair idea,” I murmured.

  “Right you are, then,” the man said and turned away.

  “You will not help us?” Anna asked.

  “I done me bit, Doc. I led you here, didn’t I? What more would you have me do?”

  “Whatever your conscience allows of you, Davey Stewart,” Anna said.

  He stood shuffling o
n his feet and screwed his face up.

  “I’ll not go in there,” he whined, pitifully.

  Whatever Elliott had done to these men had convinced them facing him was too dangerous.

  “At the very least,” Anna said, “free up our constables so they may come here.”

  He thought about it and then looked at his men.

  “We can do that,” he said with a nod of his head. “Send in the cavalry like.”

  “And clean up your streets. Stop this nonsense,” Anna added. “After all, we’ll be keeping the meater busy.”

  The man laughed at Anna using such a term, but he tipped his hat to her and ran off, his men following. In the relative silence the alley provided in their absence, I stared down at the woman I loved.

  “You are remarkable,” I said.

  “These are my patients,” Anna replied. “With or without a surgery, they are mine.”

  “We will rebuild your surgery, Anna.”

  She nodded, but I saw the shine in her eyes. I watched as she pushed the unwanted emotions away and turned to look at the sawmill.

  “It is not functioning,” she said.

  I had noticed that too.

  “Breadcrumbs,” I muttered.

  “She leads us to her.”

  “In the hopes, we are separated from the constabulary by the rioting in the slums.”

  “It worked, for we are here and they are still back there.”

  “But they will come.” I looked at her again. “You trust that Davey Stewart?”

  “Not as far as I can throw him,” she admitted. “But his son does have a lung disease, so there is that.”

  Said so matter of factly. Anna was indeed a surgeon worthy of the Police Force.

  “She will not allow us to wait,” I told her, as we studied the exterior of the sawmill.

  Stacks of logs were pushed up against the sides; sawdust coated the windows making seeing inside a difficulty. It would also make the light dim in the building as lamps would be few and far between with all that flammable wood at its mercy.

  Eliza May had chosen her battleground well.

  “She will force our hand,” Anna acknowledged.

  I wished Blackie were here to cover our backs.

  “I’ll go in alone,” I said quietly.

  “You’ll do no such thing.”

  “Anna,” I said, turning her by the grip I placed on her shoulders. I looked down into storm grey eyes that claimed me. “You are armed with a parasol.”

  “A knife lies within it.”

  “A parasol knife,” I corrected. “God alone knows what traps she’s laid for us in there.”

  “She will expect us both,” she countered.

  “She will expect me to keep you safe.”

  “Then take me with you. It will surprise her. Perhaps enough to tip the scales.”

  I shook my head and leaned forward, kissing her forehead.

  “Nothing will surprise Eliza May,” I whispered.

  “Then what do you plan? To walk in and give yourself up for Mrs Hardwick? That is not a plan at all, Andrew Kelly.”

  It wasn’t, but the longer we took to make our move, the more I feared for the housekeeper. She was the bait, and to tempt us to cross the threshold, Eliza May would use her.

  “The constabulary is coming,” Anna said. “All we have to do is stall for time.”

  I sucked in a breath of air and checked the roof of the building. Nothing untoward stood out to me, but I had a thought.

  “Can you climb?” I asked.

  “Climb?”

  I turned her around and pointed at the logs stacked beside the building. “Climb those to the roof,” I said.

  “I could. I think.” Anna scowled at the task ahead of her.

  “There will be windows above where you can see what transpires within. Once the constabulary arrives, you can advise them. On the roof, you will be safe from her reach, but still part of the rescue.”

  “This is a rescue?”

  “I aim to capture Eliza May, but I have not forgotten Mrs Hardwick.”

  “Elliott will be there.”

  “I am aware. I can manage.”

  “Andrew…”

  I bent my head down and met her wide eyes as she peered up at me, and then I lowered my lips to her mouth.

  The kiss was soft and bittersweet; a lover’s touch when duty calls them away. A farewell and promise wrapped up in one. A declaration and dedication to the woman before me.

  Anna melted into my arms, her body becoming pliant and pressing against me. I could feel her breasts, her warm skin, I could taste her and I was briefly in heaven. My hands rested on her small waist, and I lifted her and turned us until her back was against the building beside me, and I had her trapped between my body and its frame. I devoured her, and she took every single lick of my tongue, gasp from my throat, moan of delight with an eagerness that had me hot and hard and wanting.

  “Anna,” I moaned against her swollen lips.

  “I love you,” she whispered, and I almost took her away. Away from the danger. Away from my wife. Away from Elliott and what they all stood for.

  From Mrs Hardwick and her only chance of being saved.

  I pulled back and rested my head against hers, panting, desperate. My heart about to burst from my chest.

  “You are my life,” I rasped. “My one true love.” I pulled back again and looked down at her. She looked flushed and wide-eyed and well kissed. “Stay safe,” I instructed, and then stepped from the darkness of the alley into bright light.

  I did not look back, but strode with purpose out into the open, across the gap between buildings and out into the bay. I approached the front of the sawmill, my hands open at my sides, indicating I was not armed; not even with a cane.

  I would not give my wife the satisfaction of seeing her torment on display. I hid my limp; it was surprisingly easy. Rage fuelled me, and love for Anna wrapped around me. I would face the woman who had almost killed me, who threatened the woman who held my heart, and I would end this.

  God willing, I would end this today.

  I walked toward the large doors that stood slightly ajar across the sawmill’s face. I could see a flicker of light within, and my heart sped up slightly. All that wood. So flammable. Inside Eliza May waited with the one weapon she knew would scare me.

  I lifted my chin, thought of Anna, and then pushed through the doors and into the dim interior. Dust motes floated on the air. Sawdust tickled my nose. The scent of manuka and kauri gum assailed me. Stacks of milled wood stood to one side. A large piece of machinery sat dormant on the other. The flickering flame, the solitary light in the large space, other than what could filter through the dirty windows, guided me.

  I walked down the middle of the aisle created by the machinery on one side and the wood on the other, feeling like eyes were upon me from every which way.

  But only one set of eyes were waiting for me. A bright blue I had stared into on many occasions. Amusement laced my wife’s gaze. A quirk of her lips told me she enjoyed this. That this was all a game.

  At her feet lay the crumpled form of Mrs Hardwick. I took the time to assess her chest, to note the rise and fall of her breaths. Then I met my murderess wife’s eyes and held her challenging gaze.

  “Eliza May,” I said.

  She made a mewl of disgruntlement.

  “It is Amelia now,” she said in that deep voice I had at one time cherished. “But I think, husband, that you know that.”

  “Your secrets are out. Your machinations uncovered. There is nothing left but to face your judgment.”

  “Oh, Andrew,” she said, shifting to stand in front of the housekeeper, bringing herself closer than I would have liked to my frame. “You were ever so forthright. So stuck in your ways. Once a policeman, always a policeman. It is such a shame.”

  “This ends now, Eliza,” I snapped.

  “Yes, it does. But not in the way you had hoped. Where is your chit? The doctor? Where did
you hide her?”

  “You did not think I would bring her with me, did you?” I hedged.

  She laughed. That laugh that used to call to me. All it did now was make my blood rage.

  “You forget, Andrew. I have met Dr Cassidy. I have dined with her. Conversed with her. I know a kindred spirit when I see one. And there is no way your paramour would miss all of this.”

  She waved her hand around the sawmill in a dramatic fashion.

  “She’s not here, Eliza,” I growled. “Now submit. I’ll have you treated well, but for your crimes, you must pay.”

  “Tsk, tsk, husband. Do you think I have not planned this? Have you forgotten so easily how the game is played.”

  “This is not a game!” I roared.

  She smiled. A smug, knowing smile.

  “Everything is a game, darling,” she purred. “And as I don’t have your Queen, I shall move on the King instead.”

  She turned in a swish of bright fabric, knocked over the lamp that she had been using to illuminate the space, and slipped into the shadows at the back of the sawmill.

  I took a step after her, and a gunshot sounded out. The spark of the bullet hitting the spilt lamp oil ignited in a whoosh of flames. I dived to the side, to avoid further gunshots, aware the bullet had been fired from above my head.

  I turned to see into the rafters, but the shadows were pitch black and not even the hint of movement could be seen. Turning my attention back to where my wife had disappeared to, I noticed the flames were licking at Mrs Hardwick’s skirts.

  I growled quietly and then crept around the space to pull her limp form away. The flames licked higher and higher. Until I was sure, the whole building would combust.

  But in the second before that happened, I saw a shadow above us.

  I looked up. And there was Elliott, crouched by an opened skylight; his pistol aimed directly at me.

  And behind him was an angel, armed with a parasol.

  No, I silently corrected, a parasol knife.

  I Thought You’d Never Ask

 

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