by Vella, Wendy
“Prices are climbing, and our wages are dropping. It can’t continue; we need to make them see sense.”
Unrest was not uncommon in England. Nathan understood how great the divide between the rich and poor was. He also knew the “them” being referred to were those who sat in the House of Lords. He would need to tell Gabe about this. His brother took his responsibilities as someone who sat in the house seriously.
The voices quieted, and he rose to his toes to watch two men move to stand before the group. Clearly they were the ones who had called the meeting.
“Our families are hungry and cold. We have nothing while a few have so much.”
Nathan listened to the murmurs of agreement.
“We must take what we need if they won’t give it to us! The few sit in their fancy houses while the many are hungry and cold.”
“Aye!” The murmurs grew.
“We must take a stand!” someone roared.
He watched the big man a few paces before him place a hand on the shoulder of the smaller at his side, then lean down to speak. The smaller man shook his head. A gloved hand rose and patted the hood. He was close enough to glimpse the pale skin between the white glove and white sleeve. He also saw a flash of silver. Bracelet? Did that arm belong to a woman? Surely not. He dismissed the idea as foolish. What possible reason was there for a woman to be here?
“We must grow our numbers, must make them see reason no matter what it takes!”
“We’ve marched before!” someone roared. “Nothing’s come of it.”
“If we have the numbers, something will be done, and if not, we don’t stop till it is!”
Another round of ayes was heard, and ideas were hurled into the air for making those in power stand up and take note. They wouldn’t, Nathan knew that. And if a riot happened, it would not be those in fine houses that suffered.
“We need more people. Tell everyone you know, and we’ll meet again soon. Now this man here wants to speak with you all.”
He rose to his toes and watched the other man step forward. His face was in the shadows, as it was dark. “We need information and will pay for it.” He had an accent, and while Nathan couldn’t be certain, he thought perhaps the man was Russian.
This had the crowd’s interest, especially now they’d had their indignation roused by the previous speaker.
“We believe there are those among us that are informants for a secret group of noblemen who protect the king.”
Hell.
“He needs protection!” someone called. “Living in his fancy palace with all his fancy things!”
The murmurs started again.
“We want those names and will pay handsomely for them.”
Most were loyal to the king, but most here also wanted money. Money would supersede loyalty in this case.
This is not good. If they started searching for names, their informants could be in jeopardy. They would then no longer want to come forward with information.
“This group of noblemen are dangerous and ruthless. They have killed many just like you. Women, children! You owe them no loyalty!”
That’s a lie! They never harmed the innocent.
He could do nothing to defend the honor of those in Alexius. It went against everything inside Nathan that he must simply stand here and listen to these lies. The shorter of the two who stood just before him took a step back, placing them closer to Nathan. He leaned forward and sniffed. The scent was soft and floral.
What possible reason could there be for a woman to be here? The dangers to her were many. Did she work in the brothel behind them?
“Find them, and we will pay you handsomely!”
Glancing back to the man speaking, he attempted to get a closer look at him. Unfortunately, his hat was pulled low, his face in the shadows.
“How much for information?” someone shouted.
The sum named would feed a family for many months. Nathan swallowed down his anger.
“Find the information, and we will pay. Names of the nobles, or names of the informants who supply them with information. We want both.”
The man who’d spoken first stepped forward again, and the other blended into the shadows and was soon gone. “If you find anything, come to me. I’ll see you get payment if the information is good.” He let silence settle over the small gathering. But there was tension in the air, so thick Nathan could feel it.
“We can’t live like this,” the man then said quietly, but his voice carried. “We need more in our lives, in the lives of our families.”
Some men were born for this kind of thing. Born to raise armies, born to speak and be heard. This man was one of those.
“Aye!”
This was deliberate. The first was a call for action, appealing to what every father, husband, or brother knew. They needed money to ensure they and theirs were safe and fed. He understood that, just not the need for violence to achieve it, and make no mistake, if they protested, it would come to that.
“We leave,” the taller of the two men in front said. “Now.” He nudged the woman.
The men roared their agreement to something that was said, and the man stumbled as someone banged into him. He lurched forward, knocking the woman into Nathan. He steadied her, lifting her upright, his arms gripping the slender shoulders.
“Thank you.”
His grip tightened. Definitely a female voice, also with a trace of an accent. Why was she here? He pulled her closer. She looked up. A mask covered the upper half of her face. Something shot through Nathan. Awareness? Whatever it was, it had him desperate to know who she was. Her cloak had fallen open, and he noted the generous swell of her breasts barely concealed by the bodice of her dress.
Was she a prostitute?
“You are a fool to come to such a gathering, no matter your profession,” he said.
“Release me.” Her accent was thick.
Leaning closer, he tried to see her face, but the man at her back stepped forward. His hand closed over Nathan’s.
“Let her go.” He was American. The grip was tight, but Nathan knew how to defend himself; he’d spent years practicing.
He released the woman, twisted, and took the man’s arm up his back.
“Why are you here?” He looked at the woman.
“That is none of your business. Now release him so we may leave.”
There it was again, the awareness, which was ridiculous. He knew no woman with that accent.
“Please,” she said, her voice softening.
Who was she?
A loud shout told him the men had grown restless and someone was about to throw a punch. He dropped the man’s arm, grabbed the woman, and thrust her behind him.
“We must leave,” he said, and soon they were hurrying back down beside the brothel, the woman now between him and her companion.
He heard the sound of fists hitting flesh behind them. They reached the street, but the danger was not over. A group of men stood here also. Clearly, they’d been drinking, as they were loud and boisterous, shoving each other as they talked.
“Alcohol and women, the root of most fights,” Nathan muttered. “Do you live close?”
“No. I came by hackney,” she said.
“That way.” Her companion pointed toward the men.
They’d have to get through or around them to get her to safety.
“Let’s go.”
“I’ll look after her.”
“Don’t be a fool. There are six of them; you’re one man. Should they wish to not let us pass or realize she is a woman, and I don’t belong here, then we shall be in trouble,” Nathan snapped. “You should not have brought her to this place.”
“I brought myself!” she snapped back. Her voice was low and deep, the accent so thick he could barely understand her. However, he still felt the shiver of awareness.
Very odd.
“These streets can be dangerous at the best of times, but when a meeting such as the one we just witnessed is takin
g place, they can be volatile. Now, walk. Don’t make eye contact. If they speak to us, don’t stop.”
Again, they put her between them, and Nathan thought they’d made it around the men when one stepped in front of them.
“Money, and you can pass.”
“You’d rob one of yours,” the American said, which Nathan thought was stupid, as clearly, he was not a local.
“You’re not one of us,” the man scoffed.
The man wasn’t big but likely lived on these streets somewhere and knew how to get what he wanted. Knew how to fight dirty, just as his friends who were moving closer did.
“I have money. I’ll give it to you if you let us pass,” Nathan said, stepping forward, thereby putting the woman behind them.
“Well now, you don’t sound as though you should be here, my lord.” The man bowed, making the others laugh.
“I am not a lord,” Nathan said bracing his weight in preparation of the fight that was surely coming.
“How much money?” The men were now forming a wall before them.
“Enough.” Nathan pulled out his money pouch and held it out. The man reached for it; he kicked out with his foot.
“Run!” he roared as he felled the man, then started on the next.
The American swung his fists, and in seconds three had dropped, leaving three more. They fought, Nathan taking his next opponent out with a punch.
“Take that, you fiend!”
He turned to see the woman bring the butt of a pistol down on the head of a man. The American dropped the last. Her hood had fallen again. He saw the cloud of hair and the mask, but little else as the light allowed him nothing more.
Then someone ran into him, and he collided with her. Picking the woman up, he walked several paces instead of crushing her. Her body was pressed to his when he stopped, her hands on his shoulders, his on her waist. Nathan could feel her curves. Lovely full breasts, and rounded hips.
Behind him he heard the American dealing with who had run into him, but his sole focus was the woman he held.
“Are you all right?” He searched her eyes through the round holes of her mask but could read nothing.
She gave a jerky nod.
“Who are you?” Nathan whispered.
“No one that should concern you.”
One of her hands slid around his neck, urging him lower until their lips caught and held. He cupped the back of her head, angling it, and took her mouth deeper. Teeth clashing, lips clinging, it was fierce and fast, and over in seconds.
Reeling, he reached for her again, but she stepped back.
“Thank you,” she said before running away from him, the man on her heels.
He had the urge to go after them, to ensure she got home safely. The urge to demand she tell him her name and where he could find her.
“Who are you?” he said, heading back to his horse and skirting the still groaning men. “And why do I feel the need to know that?”
Chapter Eleven
“Good morning, dear.”
“Mother?” Beth struggled into a sitting position, flopping back against the headboard as the curtains were flung open. Last night’s events had kept her awake for hours upon her return to the house.
Why was Nathan there?
“A note has arrived.”
“That’s nice,” Beth said, remembering that kiss. Why had she done that? It had been foolish and could easily have turned to disaster had he removed her mask. Yet her entire life was a disaster; a last kiss with Nathan could not make it worse.
“It’s a lovely day for a ride,” her mother said.
Beth hummed her agreement. His lips pressed to hers had been everything it once was but so much more. Nathan had always been so gentle with her, but not last night. Their kiss had stirred sensations inside her she’d never felt before.
“My daughter will wear her new lilac jacket and black skirt,” her mother said to the maid who was tidying her room. “The matching black frogging and hat will look wonderful.”
Had she really let that woman called Bess cut her dress, then put a mask on her? Had she really stolen those papers from Lord Lithgow while he painted that woman?
Why had that man at the meeting wanted the names of the noblemen who were secretly protecting the king? Surely they were not dangerous, ruthless noblemen as he’d said? Did the king know this?
“They will be here to collect you at 4:00 p.m. So, you best get moving.”
“I beg your pardon, Mother, what did you say?”
“You are to go riding this afternoon with the Blake sisters. You must get up now, as there is much to do.”
“I have no wish to go riding with them, and it’s morning. Even if I was going, which I am not, I would not need seven hours to prepare myself.”
“You are going. It is best you keep busy. This is a nasty business, but I have decided you need to do what you always did. Besides, you will enjoy spending time with Mary.”
“But this is not what it always was, Mother. We cannot simply carry on as before, because so much has changed.”
Both she and her father were now traitors.
Her mother’s hands clenched around the dress she’d been about to lay out on the bed.
“I know what is at stake. I received a letter from Hilda this morning. The doctor called to check your father. He said there is a possibility he may not make a full recovery. He may have limited movement in his right arm and leg.”
“Oh, Mother.” Beth held out her arms, and soon the Carlow women were hugging. “I will ensure he stays safe. He cannot be subjected to a trial or imprisonment in his condition.”
“This should not be your burden alone, Beth. You should be happily wed to the man you love, not saving your father because he made a foolish mistake in his youth.”
“It was more than a mistake, Mother. He stole important information on troop movements and government secrets and sold them to the Russians to punish his father. Men may have died because of his actions.”
“I know,” her mother whispered. “The late Lord Carlow was a terrible nipfarthing who controlled your father’s every action. That is no excuse, but he was young and foolish and wanted to strike at him.”
“There is no excuse for becoming a traitor to your country,” Beth said feeling the desperate anger she always did when she thought of her father’s misdeeds. “When Justin Logan approached him with those papers in his handwriting, proof of his perfidy, he refused to be blackmailed or manipulated, so you were kidnapped.”
Beth remembered that day clearly when her father told her the truth. Told her that because of him her mother had been taken. He’d immediately sent word that he would do as Logan asked, and her mother had been returned. The next day, they’d left London, after Beth had written that letter to Nathan.
“I wonder if it will ever truly be over.”
“It has to be,” Beth said attempting to sound determined when inside she felt the same as her mother.
“Your father has done as he was asked for years, and now you. How will it end? Can it end?”
“I refuse to believe this is our life, Mother. We must find a way to end it.” They hugged once more.
“You received another invitation today,” her mother said slowly as Beth released her.
“What invitation?”
“We are invited to the theatre three nights from now. We will sit in the royal box. Our king will not be present, but we are there at the request of Mr. Valentine.”
“Well, that is excellent news,” Beth said with a lack of enthusiasm. “Perhaps this really will be over soon.”
“I want you to listen to me, Beth.” Her mother took her hands in hers.
“I’m listening.”
“You will do nothing but what must be done. You will not sacrifice yourself in other ways to achieve what you must. Do you understand me?” Her shoulders were gripped.
“I do.” This, of course, had been her fear. Was she to give her body to a man just to secure what
she needed to keep her family safe? Would it come to that with Logan? He’d made no secret of the fact he wanted her.
“We will take breakfast, then go for a walk, and then you will go riding with your friend and her horrid sister and be the young and carefree woman I so wish for you to be again, if only for a day.”
Beth doubted she’d ever be young and carefree again but kept those thoughts to herself.
…
“You must have a care if you see that man again.”
Beth had just left her room dressed for her ride in the park when she found Lucas lurking in the hallway.
“What man?”
“The one from last night. You may think you had him fooled with your silly voice and mask, but he is a cunning one.”
“Firstly, how do you know that I am acquainted with him, and secondly, why do you think he is cunning?” Beth asked.
“I saw the way you reacted to him, and the kiss.”
Color filled Beth’s cheeks at his words.
“He also fights like five men and is a man who knows things. Why would a nobleman be there if not seeking out information?”
Where did Nathan learn to fight as he had last night?
“He has no idea who I am.”
“But you do know him because I doubt you would kiss a stranger.”
“I am acquainted with him and will take care in his company. But it is you who must not speak in his presence or get too close if Mr. Deville is anywhere in our vicinity.” Which he likely wouldn’t be, as he could not tolerate her.
On that depressing thought, she hurried past the footman and down the stairs with him on her heels.
“Is he the one who put those shadows in your eyes when you returned suddenly from London?”
She stopped at the bottom and looked over her shoulder. He was giving her a steady look. Beth often forgot that Lucas saw more than she gave him credit for.
“Yes.”
“He would have been a good husband for you.”
The words shocked her so much, her mouth fell open.
“You’ll want to shut that before something flies in.”
“How do you know he would have made me a good husband? You spoke no more than a handful of words to him.”
