A Return of the Wicked Earl

by Sadie Bosque

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “I thought…” She swallowed. “I hoped that I’d be with child by now.”

  Blake frowned in confusion, and Annalise looked away.

  “That’s… I’m sorry.” He reached out, took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and turned her to face him. “But it’s not a big deal. We shall try again, I promise.”

  A smile was lining his voice, and a sob tore from Annalise’s mouth.

  Blake kissed her gently on her forehead. “Darling, why does it bother you so?”

  Annalise wiped her tears. Because it reminds me of the child that could have been. She didn’t say that out loud. She couldn’t.

  “What if I can’t have children?” she asked instead.

  “We’ve only spent one night, darling. I am certain it needs more time than that.”

  Last time it took just one night. She lowered her eyes but didn’t say anything.

  “I’m sorry, darling,” Blake whispered and kissed her softly on her cheek. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But do you mind if I stay here with you?”

  “Blake, I can’t… I am not comfortable doing that while I have my monthly courses.”

  “Doing that… Do you mean sleeping in one bed with me?”

  “No, I mean the other thing,” she grumbled.

  Blake pursed his lips, holding back his laughter. “Darling, I don’t need the other thing from you every night. It would be nice, yes, I shan’t deny it. But right now, I just want to hold you in my arms and comfort you.”

  Another tear streaked down Annalise’s cheek, and Blake wiped it away.

  “Do you mind if we place Miss Gale from hell into her basket? I do not think she appreciates me being near her.”

  Annalise smiled and shook her head.

  Blake reached for the cat, but she jumped out of bed with a hiss, not letting him even touch her. Annalise fought to hold on to her laughter.

  “That fiend does not like me at all, does she?”

  Annalise shook her head. “Do not take it personally. She is avoiding all men. Hisses at Crane and all footmen all the time.”

  Blake pulled back the covers and scooted inside. He covered them both, turned Annalise to face him, and placed the softest kiss on her mouth.

  When he was about to pull back, Annalise snaked her arm around his neck and kissed him deeply. Blake groaned and swept his tongue inside, teasing her, licking at the corners of her mouth.

  When he pulled away, they were both breathless. Annalise’s breasts chafed against the fabric of her nightgown uncomfortably.

  Blake ran his hands up her sides and caressed her breasts. He then lowered his head and licked at her nipples through the fabric.

  Annalise arched against him, tension building up between her thighs.

  “No, Blake, please,” she whispered, her chest rising and falling from the intensity of her breaths.

  Blake raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were heavy-lidded with passion, his mouth wet and puffy from their kisses.

  Annalise scrubbed his night stubble with her hand. Blake caught her palm against his cheek and kissed it.

  “If that’s what you want,” he said hoarsely.

  He lay back, pulling Annalise close to him. He placed her head in the crook of his arm and kissed her hair.

  “Sleep, my darling, I shall be watching over you,” he whispered.

  Annalise curled into his side and hugged him tightly. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

  Blake buried his nose into her hair and inhaled. “Yes, my darling. I shall be here.”

  Annalise snuggled closer to him, and in a moment’s time, she was asleep.

  * * *

  Blake woke up at a light rap on the door.

  He was a light sleeper. He had to be. Anyone who wasn’t didn’t live long on the slave ship. He turned and grazed his hand against the warm body of his wife.

  She slept peacefully snoring, her chest rising and falling with her soft breaths.

  Blake wanted to snuggle closer to her and fall back to sleep, but another rap on the door reminded him that something needed his attention beyond the walls of this bedchamber. With a sigh, Blake slowly rolled off the bed, trying not to wake his wife.

  She didn’t seem disturbed by either the incessant knocking or by Blake’s movements. Good.

  Blake wrapped himself in a sheet and shuffled to the door. He exited the room and beheld his valet at the door.

  “A visitor, my lord,” the valet whispered.

  “Does this visitor know what time it is?” Blake whispered back.

  “He insisted it is urgent, my lord,” the valet said meekly.

  Blake heaved a sigh. “Does this visitor have a name?”

  “Mr. Gunning, my lord.”

  Ford. He wouldn’t come to Blake’s home without a good reason. Especially not in the middle of the night. Blake turned and threw one last glance toward his sleeping wife before shutting the door with a soft click and walking to meet his friend.

  He found Ford pacing the hall. He looked up when he heard Blake’s steps and frowned at him.

  “Finally, I thought you were never coming out.”

  “Some of us sleep, Ford,” Blake answered begrudgingly.

  “Does this include you?” Ford raised his brow. “Because I could have sworn you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

  “Well, tonight was the first time in a while when I was enjoying my slumber.” Blake raked a hand through his hair. “But it seems like I shan’t get to rest on this earth. So you might as well get to the point.”

  “Hades.”

  Blake raised a brow.

  “One of my men managed to secure an audience with the man. Don’t ask how. It is unheard of for him to ever arrange an audience with anyone. He finds you; you never find him. However, since this has happened, we can’t delay. We need to get to his club before dawn. Or he’ll be gone, and we shan’t have another chance to speak to him.”

  Blake rang the servants’ bell, and Crane appeared at his elbow. “Prepare the carriage with all haste.” He raised a brow at Ford. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  Ford scratched his jaw and looked Blake up and down. “You might want to wear something less conspicuous.”

  Blake looked down at himself and raised a brow. “You don’t think Hades will appreciate my manly physique?”

  “Not particularly, no,” Ford said dryly.

  Blake huffed a breath and went to put on some clothes.

  He paused near Annalise’s bedchamber, his hand hovering over the door handle. He wanted to walk to her, place a soft kiss on her forehead, and watch her sleep, just for a little while. But he didn’t want to risk waking her. She needed her rest.

  Besides, he would see her soon enough. So he shuffled past her room and got ready for the long night ahead.

  * * *

  Several minutes later, washed, shaved, and appropriately dressed by his valet, Blake was in his carriage with Ford. They stopped in front of a dark establishment with a black iron door.

  Hades hell was an exclusive membership club, and it wasn’t easy to get in. The place didn’t look like much from the outside, but the inside was a different matter altogether.

  Blake rapped on the door, and a moment later, they were let inside.

  This was the first time Blake had come into the Hades hell after his return. The place seemed unchanged. It was filled to the brim with gentlemen drinking alcohol, flirting with the wenches of the house, and gambling. This was just a facade. Blake knew that a lot more precarious things were going on behind the scenes of the gaming hell. It was a brothel, a facade for the smuggling operation, and more things Blake didn’t even know about.

  Two burly men appeared in front of them. Blake paused, his hair standing on end.

  One of the men tipped his head. “This way,” he said and led Blake and Ford through the main floor. The second man followed in their wake.

  Nobody
paid them any heed. The men were too busy gambling or enjoying the teasing with the house wenches.

  The hell walls were decorated with disturbing scenes from Dante’s Inferno. The entire scenes of people rotting and being eaten alive should not have an enticing effect on the customers, but the dark interior, the alcohol, and the company had people staying there for days without checking their pocket watches. Blake had spent many a night in this place, too.

  They reached the side door and stepped into the private halls.

  The private halls weren’t as private as the name implied. Anybody could get in there for the right price. It was an exclusive bawdy house. The wenches were all young and beautiful, and they were willing to do anything for a price. Stories were told of the things that went in there. Stories so coarse they were unbelievable. They said, for an extra price, one could watch the proceedings in these rooms.

  Blake always thought it repulsive to see another man being pleasured by a whore. But since the service existed, there must be people willing to pay for it. Instead of stepping onto the staircase leading to the private rooms, however, their guide turned left, pressed something on the wall, and it opened up right in front of them.

  Blake and Ford exchanged curious glances.

  The guide entered, took out a torch, and beckoned for them to follow.

  “Are you planning to torture us here?” Blake said, trying to pass it off as a jest, while his palms perspired and his hands started to tremble.

  Their guards just exchanged a glance, and Blake’s stomach tied in knots. He fisted both hands by his sides to stop involuntary shaking. The dark corridor, the tight space, even the dank scent brought on unpleasant memories. They were going down the stairs, into the dungeon. The thought brought a sharp pain to his temples.

  He would rather not be here. The memory of Annalise, warm and rosy-cheeked on the bed, beckoned him to run away and return home. At least this time, he wasn’t alone. Ford had stationed a few of his men outside, and he wasn’t one to shy away from the fight, either.

  Besides, Blake had no choice but to meet with Hades. Even if he was not involved with Blake’s disappearance, he was a powerful man. He walked the line between the mighty aristocrats and the lowest of the thugs. He knew a lot more than either Ford or Blake ever would.

  They turned again into a narrower passage. Cold sweat broke out on Blake’s face and neck. The heels of their boots echoed through the narrow hall, and a sense of foreboding assailed Blake. This was all too familiar, too unsettling. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

  “Here we are.” The guards stopped by one of the doors and opened the heavy lock. They stepped in and lit the torches hanging by either side of the door. A shadow shifted in the room, drawing Blake’s eyes toward a tiny window in the corner. Light flickered, and Blake thought he saw a man in the far corner, and his hair stood on end. He jumped as he heard the loud dragging sound.

  “What?” Ford turned to him and frowned. He was holding on to the back of the chair he had just moved with a loud scrape.

  “Nothing, it’s… nothing.” Blake returned his gaze to the far corner of the room, but there was nothing there. It was just his imagination.

  This room—this dungeon—looked just like the one he was imprisoned in. Could it be that he was brought here?

  “Wait here,” one of the guards said and left the room. The other one stood at the threshold, his arms crossed on his chest, his features inscrutable.

  Blake dragged another chair and sat beside Ford. They didn’t talk. Ford was lost in his thoughts, and Blake concentrated on regulating his breathing.

  The door opened a few minutes later, and in entered a tall, dark man. So tall, in fact, that he had to stoop to enter. His shoulders were as wide as the doorframe, his face an inscrutable mask. Or at least it seemed so until he turned facing the light and Blake saw a hideous white scar adorning the right side of his face. It was wide and ran from his brow, down his cheek, and slashed across his lips, finishing somewhere on his chin. The scar also pulled at his upper lip, making it look as if he sneered. Both Blake and Ford shot up from their seats.

  “So,” he said in a rich, gravelly voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you here, my lord?”

  The title was said more in mockery than anything else. Now that Blake had regained his wits, he could make one conclusion certain. He had never met Hades in his life. He’d never be able to mistake him for anyone else. He’d been in his gambling hell, sure, but as far as he knew, Hades rarely frequented the floors of his establishments. He liked to observe the goings-on from his balcony upstairs, and the shadow he threw onto the floor was usually enough for his customers and workers alike to behave.

  “Actually,” Ford said as he moved closer to the man, seemingly unintimidated by his size or menacing mien. “We hoped you’d be able to help us.” He stood close to Hades, almost toe to toe, and had to crane his neck to look at the hell owner’s face.

  “Then you’ve made your trip in vain,” Hades answered slowly. “I don’t do favors. And I most certainly do not help people.”

  Blake raised his brow. What an interesting statement.

  “You might want to make an exception. I wager this would be of interest to you.” A pause. Hades didn’t seem like a patient person. Nevertheless, he barely moved a hair waiting for Ford to speak again. “We are looking for any information regarding the group of criminals called the Shadows,” Ford finally said.

  “Isn’t everybody?” Hades answered evenly.

  “Are they?” Ford cocked his head to the side. “I’ve heard rumors that they’ve been mucking up your business,” he said carefully.

  “Rumors.” Hades scoffed. “Is that what you base all of your investigations on? Rumors?”

  “As opposed to what? Visions?” Hades stiffened at that, and Blake glanced at his friend curiously. What the devil was he talking about? What kind of visions? Ford shrugged. “People talk.”

  “Until they don’t have tongues, they do,” Hades said darkly. “I don’t know anything about the Shadows. Nobody does. Could be a group of criminals, or could be just one mad soul running around at night with a sword and a dagger, running down anybody who got in his way.”

  “So, you’ve never seen one yourself?” Ford asked.

  “Nobody’s seen one. That’s why those ‘rumors’ are so unreliable. If nobody saw them, if they—or he—is so elusive, then where’d the rumors come from?” Hades shrugged.

  “We have a reason to believe that whoever is looking for these Shadows might be the people who kept Lord Payne prisoner. And since you admit your interest in the group, you are one of our suspects.”

  Hades’ cold gaze settled on Payne, making his skin crawl. “Despite what people think of me, I am not a cold-blooded murderer,” he finally said.

  “Aren’t you?” Blake raised a brow.

  “And I do not torture people for information. I have other, more subtle ways of getting what I need.”

  “Like blackmail, extortion?” Ford interjected, but Hades ignored him.

  “Unlike the people you are looking for, I do not keep toffs imprisoned either. I am not a fool. It’s a hanging offense, not to mention it would anger my most loyal clientele. But if I did seize a toff, I would sure as hell not let him get away.”

  “Then why did you invite us here?” Blake said. “If you don’t believe in either the Shadows or rumors about them, and if you had nothing to do with my capture, then why talk to us at all?”

  Hades turned his opaque eyes on Blake. “Because,” he said slowly. “Your friend, the thief-taker, and his men are snooping around my hell, and I don’t like it. Because people don’t feel safe where thief-takers show up. This place is a haven.”

  Blake scoffed and received a burning gaze from Hades.

  “This place is a safe haven for people to enjoy sin. This is no place for investigations and no place for thief-takers. Not unless they get themselves a drink and a whore. If people believe t
hat we are responsible for your capture, they will stop coming here. If they believe thief-takers are snooping around, they will be wary of trusting us with their secrets. This is bad for business. And believe it or not, we are not in the business of torturing and killing people. We need people, especially entitled toffs like you. We need your money.”

  Blake felt himself bristle. He hadn’t come here to be insulted and sneered at. This was a waste of time. Even if he knew anything, Hades wasn’t about to divulge the information. Ford patted him on the shoulder as if he felt Blake’s darkening mood.

  “All right. Let’s assume for a moment that we believe you didn’t send your goons to seize and torture Lord Payne. But he was taken from outside your club. And there is a high probability that it was one or several of your people. Perhaps not per your instruction but acting out of their own accord.”

  “My men are criminals. I took them off the streets, cleaned them up, and put them to work. I am not responsible for everything they do outside of those working hours.” Hades turned his curious gaze to Blake. “Besides, if my men did this, you wouldn’t be standing upright before me. I see you’re alive and well. How did you manage that?” His voice turned silky, raising hackles on Blake’s arms, so unpleasant it was like a snake’s hiss.

  His words, however, conjured the dark images in his mind. The images of beatings he had endured and things he had to do to survive. Blake pushed the memories down. Now was not the time to dive into his thoughts and nasty recollections.

  “I got lucky,” he said simply.

  “Indeed.” Hades narrowed his eyes on him, then turned his attention back to Ford. “Keeping an aristocrat imprisoned is a hanging offense. So is harboring a fiend who did it. So if any of my men had anything to do with this, rest assured, justice will be served.”

  “Somehow, when you say justice, I doubt you mean justice,” Ford said.

  Hades gave a careless shrug. “Vengeance then.”

  “Good. Then we understand each other?” Ford said, and Blake frowned at him. Was that it?

  “Indeed,” Hades answered and snapped his fingers. One of his men immediately opened the door and looked at Blake inquiringly.