“The cousin Arnold? You really can’t recall her name?” William asked, laughing.
Thomas let out a vibrant hiccup. “Please, give me a break. I’ve drunk more berry wine than a man should ever in a single sitting.”
“Her name is Harriet,” William said, his voice contemplative.
“Harriet. Right.” Thomas snapped his fingers. “Of course.”
“The thing is, I didn’t expect to feel this way. About anyone, really. And least of all Harriet,” William said, speaking directly into his glass of Scotch. “When I returned from Glasgow, I hadn’t a mind to fall for anyone.”
“Not Zelda?” Thomas asked, his words slurred.
“No. And besides. She looks at me like a friend. Like someone I knew long ago. Like someone who seems to see right through me and know what it is I need. And for whatever reason, she seems to know I need Harriet.”
William collapsed into the corner chair and gazed up at the bookshelf above, piled high with thick volumes, brought back from law school. He scrubbed his beard.
“Well, Harriet is quite beautiful,” Thomas said. “Any man would be very lucky to call her his own.”
“I understand that.” William sighed. “But it’s just that … I have so much to do here in London. I made a series of promises to myself. And I worry that if I uphold my feelings for this woman, rather than follow through on my promises, then I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“As usual, you’re far too hard on yourself,” Thomas said. “It’s so boring to listen to, over and over again.”
“I see you’re far too drunk to pay attention to what you’re saying to me.” William laughed.
“Not drunk. Entirely too perceptive, perhaps,” Thomas said. Another hiccup burst from his lips. “Listen, Will. If you have feelings for this girl, then you absolutely must follow your heart. If I had allowed Tatiana to get away from me for good, I don’t know where I would be. I couldn’t live with myself.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could live,” William said.
“It wouldn’t be a comfortable life,” Thomas returned, sounding increasingly philosophical. “We are only as good as the women who love us.”
“And that’s another issue, Thomas,” William continued. “It’s not as though I haven’t gone after this girl. But I keep getting the hint that she’s rejecting me. She insisted we go inside the moment after I kissed her.”
“Perhaps she’s frightened?” Thomas shrugged. “It’s not such a far cry to think such a thing. After all, she’s incredibly unversed in the matters of the heart. I can’t remember many she danced with at previous balls, let alone any men she allowed to court her. You’re the first she seems invested in. Perhaps she simply doesn’t know how to operate.”
William remained silent, mulling over this last comment. He sipped the last bit of his Scotch and turned to pour himself another round. Thomas’ eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
“There’s just another thing I have to confess,” William heard himself say, surprising himself.
Thomas seemed uninterested. He sipped the last of his Scotch and scratched his ear absently.
“And you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone. No one on the planet,” William continued. HIs heart fluttered in his throat.
“You’ve already told me you love Harriet,” Thomas said, his voice far away.
“It’s not about Harriet …” William began. “It’s about something rather close to my heart. Something that—that could very well ruin me if it got out. Do you understand?”
“Hmmm?”
Thomas’ eyelids seemed heavy. He reached towards William’s desk and plopped his glass atop it. His arm swung down, as though it was deadweight. William stood, his knees creaking. He placed a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, shaking him slightly. Thomas’ eyes opened again.
“What is it? What did you want to tell me?”
“Why don’t you stay in my guest bedroom tonight?” William said. “It’s all made up for you. We can have breakfast in the morning.”
Thomas licked his lower lip like a child. His feet floundered a bit in front of the chair. Finally, he found his footing and stood, nearly toppling into William.
“There you go, Tom.” William sighed, laughing to himself.
William helped Thomas to the guest bedroom on the second floor, creaking the door closed while Thomas collapsed atop the sheets. Immediately, the smile William had had plastered across his face fell away. He shot towards his bedroom, drawing his shoulders back. He thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t told Thomas what was actually on his mind.
In fact, what he’d been about to say would ruin him. He felt oddly sure about it.
It had been a risk. Yet it felt an oddly necessary one, especially when he’d begun.
Right after the ball at the home of the Marquess, something had ignited William’s curiosity. He remembered the way Harriet had been ripping into the butler, demanding that he tell her more information about the personality of the Marquess. And for this reason, when he saw his father alone in his study several weeks later, William had enquired about the Marquess.
“I don’t suppose you know him personally, do you, Father?” William had asked, trying his damnedest to ensure his voice didn’t creak or show a dire level of interest.
His father had snorted. He'd rammed whatever book he was reading shut and gaped at his son. “Don’t you know why I didn’t attend the ball?” he demanded. “Whatever was stolen from the Marquess, he deserved it. The man is quite evil. Perhaps the worst person I’ve dealt with on a business-level. Although he does have some competition. I’ll give him that.”
“What do you mean, Father?”
Lord Abernale smirked. “It was years ago, son. But in essence, the Marquess and I had a business plan in place. We were going to open a series of shops across London. Bond Street. Sussex. Victoria. Everywhere. Yet I hadn’t realised he’d delivered me some dud paperwork, which lent me only five per cent of the business profits for the first two years—then I was immediately forced out. You see, I thought we had a square settlement, one that ensured everything would be equal. I didn’t even think to have my lawyers look over it. The Marquess and I went drinking after I signed it, both of us cheering to a better future together. I didn’t discover the mistake—my mistake, that is—until approximately one month later. When I tried to sue him, we had nothing else in writing except the contract.”
At this, William’s jaw dropped. “And you’d been working alongside one another, completely equally …”
“For well over a year, I believe. I had the belief that the profits would be coming. And they did. For him. I was grateful when the contract eliminated me after two years, as it meant I could fully wipe my hands clean of the man. But can you imagine how stupid I felt? Me. Always thinking I was such a prosperous, intelligent businessman …
“Regardless. Like I said, I’m glad that someone had the gumption to rob him. I hope it helped him understand just precisely what kind of man he is. The kind that can be ruined by a single, brave soul … Not as though that robbery ruined him. But perhaps it was akin to a kick in the shins. A reminder that the rest of the world is watching him.”
After this conversation, William couldn’t rid thoughts of the Marquess from his mind. After enquiring with other businessmen across the city, it became clear that the Marquess was continually operating as he had with William’s father. William felt it a part of his mission to halt such horrors. “How could he do this to his peers, let alone people poorer than him?” had become his constant refrain.
It had eventually caused him to take action. It had forced him to take the matter of the law into his own hands. If the rest of the world wasn’t going to pay attention, he felt he needed to do something.
Now, William rose from the edge of his bed and leafed through his closet. In the far back, he found his black cape and whirled it on, feeling immediately like a different creature. A man of the night. He buzzed a bit from Scotch but knew this wou
ld only add to his bravery. He loved the feeling. The wild energy of it.
In a recent conversation with a businessman, he’d heard whispers that various people with criminal pasts were entering into the home of the Marquess at night to conduct business with him. Apparently, the Marquess couldn’t be pleased with simplistic robbing of his friends and peers. He was casting these criminals out to all corners of England, ensuring that they made a mockery of businessmen in Bristol, in Coventry, in Liverpool. This chilled William to the bone.
Now, William decided to go to the home of the Marquess to investigate the matter himself. He wasn’t entirely sure what would happen in the wake of his arrival. Perhaps, depending on what he spotted, he might commit an additional robbery. This one wouldn’t be like another “kick in the shins,” as his father had said. Rather, it would be more like a jab in the heart.
William slinked to the kitchen, grateful that the butler and maid were no longer awake. Using only the light of the moon, he hunted for a knife in the kitchen drawer and slipped a medium-sized one into his pocket. He wanted it for protection and told himself he would only use it if completely necessary.
Then, he slunk out the back of the house and stretched his legs towards the stable, weaving his way past the rose garden to find his black horse. Within minutes, he’d hung his body across the barrel of the horse’s back and whipped out into the night.
Whatever happened next, he couldn’t be sure. But he knew he had to be brave. He had to represent his inner morality. It was up to him to change the tapestry of London. Otherwise, the evils of the world would go on without question.
Chapter 21
After Renata and Zelda’s dinner party, Harriet found herself wide awake, her eyes nearly bugging from their sockets. Despite her lack of sleep the past days, it seemed her body wouldn’t rid itself of its inner anxiety. The nasty world of inner London beckoned.
Just after midnight, she hurried towards her closet and tore her black cape from the back shadows. Her soft steps were practiced at this point, pushing her out into the night and towards the stables. Within minutes, she was heading back south of the Thames, her mind heavy with images of Oliver. He was surely out there, bunking about with his mighty pail, whilst evil creatures were hungry to steal from him. She had to put a stop to it.
Once south of the Thames, Harriet latched her horse to a dead light pole and hustled towards the same alleyway in which she’d spotted the two men weeks before.
Clouds rippled over the moon, occasionally casting her in darkness. Harriet shivered, rubbing her palms together. The night felt entirely too quiet, wrapped in evil. A creak to the side made her nearly leap from her cloak. But when she whirled towards it, she found herself peering down at just a cat—lurking about, its shoulders quaking to and fro.
She had to calm her own racing heart, for the health of her mind.
Harriet waited an hour before any action began. Finally, just when she’d begun to give up any hope, the same man from previously bungled into the alley and flashed two bags only about ten feet away from her. He smacked his hands together, as if to congratulate himself on a job well done, and then hunched his shoulders and stomped from the alley. Although he walked only a foot or so beside her, he didn’t see her. His eyes glittered with promise.
Harriet knew it would be only a matter of time, now. The cat slinked into the alley and tapped its nose against the bags, seemingly hungry for answers, as well. Harriet gave a soft whistle, drawing the cat back towards her. The cat tiptoed towards her, opening its mouth to send out a shrieking meow.
“Shhh,” Harriet whispered, suddenly petrified. Suppose the cat gave her away? She trotted towards the far end of the alley, still careful to remain in the shadows. Still, the cat followed her, not wanting her to get away. As it grew closer, Harriet could count the number of ribs on its sides.
Suddenly, another figure appeared at the far end of the alley. Harriet ducked into the corner of the alley, making herself into a ball. Only her eyes appeared over her knees. As she watched, the second man reached the bags and lifted them, tossing them over his shoulders. He whistled as he stomped from the alley, seemingly heading somewhere with purpose. Now, Harriet had every inclination to follow him. She couldn’t possibly let him get away.
The moment the man disappeared, Harriet sprung up from her ball-like stance and raced towards the main road. The man walked quickly, heading towards a tied-up horse. Harriet panicked, rushing towards her own black mare and swinging over him. The moment the man surged forward, she followed suit, ensuring that she kept a healthy distance. The horse’s footfalls only echoed a bit as they went along, following approximately 50 feet behind at all times.
Harriet’s heart pumped wildly in her throat. She hadn’t a single clue where they were off to, or what to expect when they arrived. What could she possibly do? Rip the bags from his hands and hurry back to the neighbourhood, ready to deliver the money back to poor Oliver and his friends? Wouldn’t they harm her if she tried to do such a thing?
But Harriet had already come so far. She couldn’t live with herself if she turned back.
After about ten minutes of riding, Harriet had an incredible realisation. She knew precisely where she was. She glanced around, recognising the neighbourhood as belonging to the Marquess himself. Although she hadn’t been to the Marquess’ estate in the many weeks since that first thieving, the place was burned into her mind. A shiver ran up and down her spine. Could this possibly be—
But the answer came swiftly. Within seconds, the man before her rode his horse into the Marquess’ estate. Immediately, Harriet leapt off her horse and latched him to a fence nearby, her heart lurching. Apparently, whatever operation she’d discovered was linked to the Marquess! This was both fortuitous and terrifying. Could she actually enter back into the mansion she’d stolen from—so soon after the crime?
Harriet entered the gates, gazing up at the mansion. Candles flickered in the windows. Approximately 100 feet in front of her, the man she’d followed from south of the Thames walked along, swinging his bags on either side.
Harriet headed towards a line of trees to her left, marching in and out of them, keeping her eyes focused on the man ahead. When he reached the mighty staircase that led up to the front of the Marquess’ mansion, he paused for a moment and kicked out his foot, almost as though he was trying to prove something to the stones.
Harriet swept forward, drawing herself towards another line of trees closer to the mansion. Her heart pummelled itself against her ribs. She demanded of herself: what could she possibly do? Enter into the estate? Lurk amongst these villains, without being noticed? Perhaps she’d come too far. She was perfectly fine to operate like this when she was alone on horseback, working in the dark. But now? Like this? It felt far too dangerous.
Harriet began to draw back. Her legs shivered beneath her. She felt unable to trust them. As she reached back, hunting for a tree on which to lean, she stepped hard on something that felt unlike a tree branch or a patch of grass. A soft moan swept through the air. Immediately, Harriet drew herself around and blinked up at a black figure just behind her. She drew her hand across her mouth, hiding a shriek.
A man. A man, creeping up behind her! Immediately, she felt sure she would be murdered. Clearly, this man was operating for the Marquess, lurking around outside to ensure people like Harriet didn’t creep in and see what he was up to. Harriet leapt backwards, yet found herself falling into a tree. Her breath came in staggers.
The man dressed in black didn’t move. As the seconds ticked past, the clouds above them shifted, casting moonlight across his face. Harriet inhaled sharply, peering at the face that hung beneath the enormous black hood. Who on earth was this creature? Why hadn’t he murdered her yet?
Suddenly, the man’s features began to draw themselves out beneath the moon. A thick, curly black beard. Enormous lips. Furrowed brows. Harriet took a tentative step towards him, sensing, suddenly, that this was a man she knew. Perhaps she knew him very we
ll.
A Ravishing Beauty in Disguise: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 18