To Save a Fallen Angel (The Fallen Angels series Book 2)

by Julianna Hughes

  Joc glared back. “Then let Guerrant do with your father as he will.”

  Her heart constricted painfully. “You will allow another to have what is our right?” She took a step toward him. “Because I am not. I. Will. Have. My. Revenge, Joc. I want to look into my father’s eyes when I slit his throat, and have him know that he is dying for what he did to Eddie.”

  “Aye,” Joc said and nodded. “I too want to see zee look on his face as he takes his last breath.” He turned and began walking once again. Peggy fell into step beside him.

  “But we must be careful, or our plan, it becomes too complicated. This Guerrant, he hires our old foe Captain Chevalier to kidnap your father in Tripoli. Then he demands that you raise zee money and return with both zee gold and Captain Peri.”

  “Chevalier wants to get his hands on Eddie’s ships, and believes I am his only heir,” Peggy said then added, “I doubt this Guerrant had anything to do with me accompanying the gold back to Tripoli.”

  “Aye,” Joc said. “Chevalier, he tried to force your uncle to sell them to him before. He thinks he have an easier time getting them from you.”

  Peggy nodded. “And I think he wants to cheat his employer out of the gold as well.”

  “Oui. Chevalier, he is a greedy bastard, and will take all, and not give us anything if we are not careful.”

  She glanced over at Joc. “Which is why we need this Captain Stoughton, Papa. I cannot play Peri and myself at the same time. And we need someone with eyes like mine and Uncle Eddie’s and who looks like Captain Peri up close. According to Sir Walter, this army captain not only looks like Captain Peri, but he has blue eyes similar to mine. So we will play this game until Chevalier tells us where he is hiding my father. Then we will kill Chevalier, take my father, and keep the gold that should have been mine to begin with.”

  Joc smiled and nodded. “Oui. We will get our vengeance and make ourselves very rich.”

  Peggy smiled back. “Come. I want to get a look at this Englishman. This Captain Stoughton. We are to help keep his brother and sister-in-law safe at this Iron Duke’s ball tomorrow. And I want to know as much as I can about him before then.”

  It wasn’t easy getting rid of her over-protective first mate. As her guardian, Joc had been indulgent yet protective of the girl he thought of as his daughter. But since Eddie’s death, Joc had been tyrannical. He had insisted that it was her destiny to be the next Captain Peri, while at the same time nearly smothering her with his protectiveness.

  Peggy hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him that once they killed her father, she had no intentions of remaining as the captain of the Coral Sea, or even remaining on board the ship. Peggy wanted a home and family of her own.

  Seven months ago, she had been sure she had found the man that would give her those things. But she discovered after she had given him her virginity that Gustav was not the man she thought he was. And now, neither one of them wanted to captain the Coral Sea. At least once they got their revenge for Eddie’s murder.

  But first things first. She had been hiding outside the Duke of Belfort’s townhome for the better part of the day, waiting for the duke’s brother to leave. And she quickly discovered that she wasn’t the only one watching the duke’s house. Some of those watching it were obviously working for the duke as every so often they would report in like some kind of sentries. She also noticed others watching the townhouse that were not being so obvious. And Peggy didn’t think they were working for the duke or his family.

  Then a little after one o’clock in the afternoon her patience was rewarded. And in a big way. A very tall and breathtakingly handsome man walked out the front door and greeted two of the sentries dressed as pedestrians. Feelings she thought had died with Gustav sparked to life. Her heart leaped beneath her breasts, and her mons gave a familiar quiver.

  Peggy forced the sensations away and concentrated on the man across the street. She knew he was making another fatal mistake by greeting them so openly. It was one she would not have made.

  But in every other way, Captain Lucien Stoughton was everything his file said he was, tall and very broad shouldered. And he had that look. The look of a career soldier. But he was so much more too. He had sable brown hair that was cut close to his head. And even though she wasn’t close enough to see, she knew from his file that he had light blue eyes. His face was longer than she would have thought, with a strong, square jaw. And he had a scar that traversed his face, from his left temple, across his cheek, past his mouth, and ending on the left side of his chin.

  Peggy’s reaction to him was not what she had been expecting. Or maybe it was, after reading his file from cover to cover. Her body felt warm all over, and her blood pulsed in her veins. This was a dangerous man. And not in the way Joc thought.

  Captain Lucien Stoughton was definitely someone she was going to have to stay on guard against.

  Chapter 3

  A blood-red haze of hate threatened to overwhelm Peggy.

  "Petite fille, combien de temps comptez-vous jouer les prostituée pour cet homme?"

  "English," Peggy said with an exercise in patience, that was admittedly getting thin.

  "Why?" Joc asked, just to be contrary she was sure, "You speak French as well as I do. As well as any Frenchwoman."

  Peggy rolled her eyes but didn't take them from her target, Sir Walter. "Because, as I keep telling you, the last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves. Especially at this critical point in our plans," Peggy answered and shifted her eyes to her other target, Captain Stoughton.

  "And as I keep telling you, it eez your plan, not mine," Joc replied with a huff.

  Peggy rolled her eyes but refused to debate the issue with the obstinate man again. She felt the tall Frenchman step up behind her and peer into the ballroom over her head. Sir Walter, their sworn enemy, passed several feet in front of them, unaware that he was being watched.

  "I repeat, little girl, how long do you plan on playing zee harlot for this man?"

  "Until that lapdog of his agrees to take us to my father," Peggy answered, stepping away from her first mate and fading back into the darkness. It was time to join Sir Walter at the front of the house.

  "Keep your watch, Joc. We don't want this man, this . . . this Reginald Stoughton to get to the duke or his wife.

  "I don't see how that eez any of our business," Joc grumbled.

  "Because, if this man kills the duke or harms his wife, then his brother will not leave with us when we are ready to set sail."

  Joc shrugged indifferently. "It eez of no concern of ours," he repeated. "If he will not come willingly, then we just take him. Much easier, I think."

  "You fool!" Peggy snapped. "You think this Englishman will willingly help us free my father if we kidnap him?"

  The man shrugged his shoulders again, "With persuasion, oui, he will do whatever we want."

  Peggy considered the idea and felt her blood run hot. Not from the thought of kidnapping and torturing the man, but because of the time she had spent observing him. As his file said, Captain Lord Lucien Stoughton was a hardened soldier, a dangerous English spy, and a war hero. She seriously doubted that any amount of coercion would make the man help them. No matter how artfully Joc and her men applied it.

  However, Peggy grudgingly admitted to herself that the failure or success of forcing the man to help them was not the only reason for her reluctance. He had quite simply stirred her blood yesterday while watching him. And she had no intention of admitting such a thing to her papa.

  "No, it will be easier if he willingly takes us to my father and knows nothing of our plans," she said as she started toward the back of the garden and the planned rendezvous with Sir Walter.

  "Sir Walter is headed toward the front door. It is time for our scheduled ‘bumping into each other.’ For the time being, you need to do the job I gave you, and I will do mine. Once we are out to sea, we will learn what this landlubber knows of our plans. If he refuses to help us on his own," sh
e shrugged, "then you may do with him as you wish."

  Ten minutes later Peggy slipped into the back of the crowd of people queuing up to go inside the mansion. Her target found her minutes later as she neared the open doors.

  "Sir Walter," Peggy intoned and bowed politely to her enemy.

  "Lady Margaret," the man returned in a strong voice that carried easily to those around them. "How nice to see you again." The man brushed a polite kiss above her knuckles. "Might I have the pleasure of escorting you into the ball, my dear lady?"

  "Of course," Peggy twittered for those around them.

  The man stepped up even with her and firmly planted her hand on the sleeve of his coat. He bowed to an acquaintance near them and then drew her toward the receiving line.

  The man was a toad. Unassuming at only five-foot-six, a full four inches shorter than she was. He was nearly as round as he was tall. An exaggeration, perhaps, but only a slight one.

  Sweat gathered on his perpetually shiny head, and disorderly dull gray hair wreathed it. Peggy was profoundly grateful that he had tamed it for the night as she was expected to spend an uncomfortable amount of time in his presence for the ball.

  With his gold-rimmed glasses and permanently muddled clothes, he looked more like a bank clerk or university professor than a nobleman. Peggy suspected that the look was intentional. She herself had applied similar disguises in the past. It would allow him to move freely among all levels of society, from the highest members of the ton to the lowest dredges of society.

  No one suspected that the unassuming toad was in fact a cold blooded and calculating killer. A murderer wrapped in respectability by his position in the Home Office.

  Peggy knew the truth about the man. And she intended to beat him at his own game. And when she did, she would take away everything he cared about. And then she would kill him. But for the time being, he was a means to her primary plan to gain access to her father.

  "Have you or any other others seen any sign of Reginald Stoughton?" the man asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  "No," she immediately responded without rancor even though she wanted to. "Two of your men have been put to work as extra footmen.” They weren’t actually his men, but two of hers that had not been captured when he boarded the ship. Men that she had trained to act in such positions for her own needs. “Two more have managed to slip in as guests. Four of your Mr. Whittermann’s men have found unobtrusive locations to keep a seaward eye on the goings on in the ballroom."

  He nodded solemnly.

  "Two men and two women,” she continued. “They arrived with forged invitations. One of us will remain near the duchess at all times."

  The task she had been given tonight was protecting the new Duchess of Belfort. A Lady Katherine McNair Stoughton. From what she had learned, the lady had been forcibly betrothed to a low life by the name of Reginald Stoughton by her equally reprehensible uncle, Baron Willard McNair. Men that were suspected in the death of the duchess' guardian, Chloe Warhurst.

  But like Sir Galahad, the Duke of Belfort, Gabriel Stoughton, had ridden in to save the fair maiden from his cousin. The duke, she’d discovered, had a number of his own dark secrets. The worst was that he was working for her mortal enemy. The second, and more intriguing, was that the man had run away from home at the age of eleven and assumed a new name amidst unconfirmed rumors he had killed his own father. If true, it raised the man in Peggy's esteem. His father was rumored to have raped and murdered his own daughter.

  But it only raised her regard of the duke slightly higher than that of a warthog. However, it did put him on an equal footing with the man at the center of her other reason for being there tonight, Captain Lord Lucien Stoughton.

  By order of Sir Walter, she was to familiarize herself with the man while at the ball tonight. In other words, she was to make herself known to the captain. So, as far as Sir Walter was concerned, Captain Stoughton was her primary mission for the night.

  "Give them a moment, my dear," Sir Walter whispered as he pulled her from the line as if he were going to converse with one of the couples milling around the entry hall. "We need to see if anyone takes an unusual interest in their arrival."

  Peggy thought the idea sound. She allowed the little toad to steer her over to an elderly couple close to the stairs leading down into the ballroom. Her eyes flickered from the duke and duchess still awaiting their turn to greet their host, and then to the crush of elegantly dressed men and women already pressed into the ballroom.

  Peggy's eyes then fell on a man standing near the head of the stairs with his back against the wall. To most of the guests he was just another rake ogling the ladies arriving for the ball. But Peggy knew better. She had met Damien Whittermann the night they had sailed up the Thames and allowed Sir Walter and his men on board the Coral Sea. A mistake she would not make again. And according to Sir Walter, Mr. Whittermann was his best agent, and while in England, Damien was responsible for her and her men.

  Turning, she watched as the Duke of Wellington greeted his old army comrade, the Duke of Belfort. The two men exchanged pleasantries and then separated. A moment later the herald was announcing the Duke and Duchess of Belfort. Peggy scanned the ballroom for any uncommon reactions to their arrival and saw none.

  "You ready, my dear?" Sir Walter said after bidding the elderly couple farewell and promising to meet with them later during the night.

  Peggy was relieved to see that the receiving line was a great deal shorter now. But she became frustrated with the amount of time it took for them to greet their host and move to a position where they could observe their quarry again.

  Her eyes quickly picked out the duchess conversing with a number of people she had heard referred to as the "Fallen Angels." A group of soldiers that had fought together during the long war with France. A group that had basically been formed around the Duke of Belfort, despite his being only a sergeant at the time and living under an assumed name.

  Peggy's intelligence had learned that the members of the group consisted of the Duke of Belfort, his brother, Lieutenant Andrew Devlin (amusingly now Miss Angela Devlin), Sergeant Jeremey Cavendish, and Damien Whittermann.

  Sir Walter led her down the stairs and guided her to the group huddled on the side of the ballroom.

  "Your Graces," Sir Walter said and nodded to the duchess when they reached the group.

  He then turned to his right. "Miss Devlin. Captain Stoughton. Sergeant Cavendish. Might I make known to you, Lady Margaret Hennessey?"

  "Another one of yer . . . yer . . . coworkers," Captain Stoughton sneered at her escort with his slight Scottish burr that washed over her in a disconcerting way. The slight was aimed at the man at her side, but Peggy felt the chilly blast nonetheless.

  "On occasion, Lady Margaret has seen fit to give a helping hand to the Crown," Sir Walter said. "I think you will find her quite helpful tonight."

  Peggy's stomach clenched. Why was he lying to these people? She had only agreed to help with one other mission while she was waiting for Captain Stoughton to arrive back in London.

  "I'll just bet you would," the captain snapped and then turned his back on them.

  Bravo, Peggy thought. Another point in the man's favor.

  The duke pinned her escort with his deep, dark eyes, and Peggy felt a shiver down her own back. "You assured me that there was no need to worry tonight, Sir Walter. Are you now telling me there is?" he demanded.

  "No, your Grace. There is no need for concern," Sir Walter reassured the man.

  "Then why the extra precaution?" the duke demanded.

  "I like to be prepared for any eventuality. It prevents unwanted surprises. Lady Margaret is just an extra precaution. Just as the men," Sir Walter's eyes flickered to Miss Devlin, "and women, you have stationed around the ballroom."

  "Them, I trust," the Duke retorted and Peggy silently applauded.

  "As I trust those under my command," her escort replied.

  Peggy smirked at Sir Walter. Was he play
ing her abilities up to placate the duke? Or did he really trust her? The tension between the two men couldn't be any plainer. Her eyes lingered on the duke for a second, and she decided she just might like the man after all. Peggy's attention then turned to the duke's brother, and she received the same jolt of awareness she had experienced the other day while observing him.

  From what Sir Walter had told her, the captain hadn't yet been told the particulars about the mission he was being sent on. Only that he was needed for a crucial operation for the crown. A mission he was uniquely suited for as he looked like a pirate that had been killed in a battle with a British war ship.

  The story amused Peggy to no end as she was the pirate captain the man was being asked to impersonate. And the Coral Sea hadn't been sunk, it had been commandeered by the devious Sir Walter when she had allowed him on board so she could initiate her own plan. And her crew were now being held hostage to ensure that Joc, as the ship’s first mate, cooperated with Sir Walter’s plans.

  Her eyes flickered back to Captain Stoughton, and her palms began to itch. It seemed that the captain was being manipulated by her enemy as much as she and her crew were. So, maybe she wouldn't allow Joc to torture the man after all. Unless Stoughton turned out to be a problem, or tried to interfere with her plans to kill her father and Sir Walter.

  Chapter 4

  Lucien hadn't intended to sneer at Sir Walter, despite his animosity towards the man. He was, after all, working for him. But the woman on Sir Walter's arm had completely unsettled Luc. She was quite simply one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was a full head taller than Sir Walter but still several inches shorter than his six-foot-five. But it wasn't her height that had unsettled him. Or the unusual crimson red ball gown she was wearing. It was her eyes.