His fingers lifted, cupping her cheek, the largeness of his hand swallowing her head, but the gentleness of the touch extraordinary. “Marry me, Liv.”
She nodded, tears streaming down her face. She wanted every one of those moments. Every one. From here until never.
{ Chapter 21 }
Having just asked Mr. Niles to keep the horses and carriage readied for her, Liv looked up from the street at the light emanating from the sitting room on the second floor of her townhouse.
Viola was already waiting for her.
All Liv wanted at the moment was to be snuggled under Tieran’s arm, warming her toes by the fire.
It was not to be. Just before Liv had left for the Jacobson’s ball the previous night, she had promised Viola they would meet this eve to discuss the plan for continuing the ruin of Lord Lockston. Dependent, of course, on whether Viola could escape her husband for the evening.
But now that Liv knew the truth about Lord Lockston—and Tieran and Lord Newdale as well—that meant those three were off the list. The wrinkle was that she couldn’t share the truth as to why with Viola—Liv needed to keep the secret of what the men were doing to save the innocent girls. Telling Viola could very well compromise their actions.
She exhaled, her breath puffing and mingling with the hanging fog in the cold night air.
Liv considered again telling Viola the truth. It would make explaining the situation about Lord Lockston so much easier. As it was, Viola would be infuriated that the three men were no longer targets. But as Viola didn’t have the means to go about ruining the men on the list without Liv, Liv hoped Tieran, Newdale, and Lockston would all be safe from Viola’s wrath—at least for now.
Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, Liv stared at the upper window. Even though Liv had been absent from her townhouse, Viola—as she had always had free rein to do—had made herself comfortable in Liv’s home. A fact that Liv could never disapprove of, for escaping her odious husband to Liv’s house was one of the few freedoms Viola was granted in life.
Liv took a deep breath of the cool air, the chill seeping deep into her chest. It did nothing to remove the dread, steel her spine, or give her solace for the conversation ahead.
It just made her cold.
Viola would be furious. That was an understatement. There was no word for what Viola’s reaction would be when Liv told her that she would never take action against Tieran, Lockston or Newdale.
And she was about to marry one of those men. A man on the list.
Horrified. Viola would be horrified down to the curling of her toes. There would be no understanding on her part. And Liv couldn’t blame her.
Liv sighed as she walked up the front stairs of her townhouse. This conversation was impossible to prepare for, so she just needed to blurt it out and be done, consequences be what they may.
She straightened her spine, entering her house and smoothing the front of her black carriage dress as she moved up the curved staircase from the foyer. With one final deep breath, Liv opened the door and stepped into the sitting room.
Viola was standing by the front window, her face brightening as Liv stepped into the room and closed the door.
“Livia, I have the most wonderful surprise for you.” Viola crossed the room, her fingers twitching in excitement.
“Viola, your cheek.”
Viola’s fingers went to her blackened cheekbone, running along the bruise as her look swept upward. “It is no bother, Livia. I thought I covered it well with the powder. But it was worth it for what I was able to accomplish today. What I have here.”
It wasn’t the first, or even the hundredth time that Viola had appeared with black marks on her face or neck or arms. But Viola’s current enthusiasm overshadowed any pain the bruise may have been causing her.
The edges of Liv’s lips turned up in a hesitant smile. “First, I have something I need to tell you, Viola.”
“Oh,” Viola’s hand flipped through the air, “whatever it is it can wait, Livia. You must see immediately what I have brought. It is glorious.”
Her friend needed this moment—whatever she was so excited about—much more than Liv needed to upset her. Liv let her smile reflect Viola’s enthusiasm. “What is it that you have?”
In that moment, Liv noticed a rogue movement in the room as the top of a blond head popped out above the tall back of the wing chair by the fireplace. The hair was in a pretty upsweep, thick, light blond hair twisted and plaited in an intricate pattern. Wealthy hair. Only someone with a talented maid and lots of time could afford such a production.
“This.” Viola bounced across the room, grabbing the chair and grunting with effort as she spun it around to Liv.
A girl sat in the chair, a strip of white linen cloth tied around her head, cutting back across her open mouth, gagging her. The girl was tied to the chair, both around the torso and at her legs. Her hands were bound together in front of her, brown rope biting into her wrists in a figure eight. Even with the tears soaking her face, the girl looked sweet and young—and terrified.
Horror welled into Liv’s throat, crushing her breath. Confusion sent her forward, and she snatched Viola’s arm, yanking her away from the girl.
“Have you gone insane, Viola? What is this—she’s fifteen at best—who is she?”
The smile swallowing Viola’s cherub face only got bigger. “No. Not at all. Not insanity. This is Sir Bishman’s daughter.” She giggled like a child just handed a sugared plum, her hand twisting around Liv’s arm to grip her. “This is the one he dotes upon—the crystal doll. The whole reason for his existence—the one that is the most precious thing in the world to him.”
Liv shoved Viola’s hand off her arm, pushing past her friend to the girl. “You are not this demented, Viola.” Liv dropped to her knees in front of the girl, her shaking fingers working the fat knot securing the girl’s ankles to the chair.
“Don’t do it, Livia.”
Something cold hit the front of her neck.
Never in her wildest imaginations would Liv have considered what was truly at her throat. Not until the cold turned sharp. Long and sharp, digging into her skin, pressing against the long cords of her neck.
Hell.
Liv froze, not daring to move, not daring to turn her head to look up at Viola. “Tell me you don’t have a dagger to my neck, Viola.”
“One of my husband’s finest. It’s carved plenty of my skin.”
A sob escaped from the girl through the cloth in her mouth.
Liv couldn’t even swallow for fear of cutting her own throat. Her hands went weak, dropping from the knot. Slowly, so as to not dig the blade edge further into her neck, she leaned backward, turning her head to her friend, her look fierce. “You can cut me, kill me, Viola, but I am not letting you hurt this girl. She is an innocent.”
“We were innocents, Livia.”
“Yes. And now we have power, Viola—power that saves innocents, instead of condemning them to ruin. Do not abuse it.”
“Do not abuse it? You have no concept of what power we truly have, Livia—none.” Viola’s upper lip sneered. “I am nothing but a piece of meat for my husband to torture—and you—even you—you are free of your husband, but all you have is an empty life—a cold bed. You are damaged just as I. Our chance for happiness—true happiness was ripped from us, Livia. And this is our opportunity to do something real to pay them all back—something beyond anything we have ever dreamt.”
The blade at her neck shifted, and Liv could feel the warmth of fresh blood trickle down her skin. “I have never dreamt of stealing an innocent girl, Viola. And for what purpose—what could possibly be running through your mind? We need to free her and deliver her home—Mr. Niles is waiting with the carriage, we can—”
“We’re not going anywhere with Mr. Niles, Livia.”
“Please, Viola, it is not too late to reverse course on whatever you have planned. We can let her go. Go about our business as we always have. What we do is enough, Vi
ola—we make those that should pay, pay. It is enough.”
Viola’s eyes went shrewd. “No, Livia, no. It’s not enough and you are coming with us. I thought you would welcome this chance to finally do something real—real with paramount consequences. But you disappoint me. So I see I cannot let you leave—you will have to come with us.”
Liv’s eyes widened. “Come with you—to where?”
“I am not about to tell you.”
“Then I am not coming.” Liv’s voice went hard. “Slice my neck, Viola, but I will not be a part of this.”
“No?” Viola’s glare skewered her, and then in a flash, she swung the blade from Liv’s neck to the girl’s creamy white throat. Viola moved to the side of the chair, out of range for Liv to shove her.
“You are coming with us, Livia. Or I slice her neck right here in your home.”
Liv looked to the girl whimpering frantically, her wrists twisting in the rope, her eyes wide in fear as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Liv’s gaze moved from the silver blade to stare up at Viola, noting her crazed look. If she made a move to knock Viola’s arm, it would only cut the girl. Her look flickered to the panic in the girl’s eyes, then to Viola.
“Untie the crystal doll, Livia.”
At a loss, Liv bent, yanking apart the knots at the girl’s ankles, and then the knot at her belly that secured her to the chair. How had she never seen this in Viola? Seen that her friend had the capacity for this monstrosity within her?
Still trying to shove the disbelief from her mind at what her friend had done, she looked up at Viola.
“Where are we going to, Viola?”
“You will see. Back away from the chair, Livia.”
On her knees and toes, Liv shuffled herself backward along the floor.
Viola watched her, only nodding once Liv was well out of reach. “Good. I have a carriage waiting for us in the mews. You will walk ahead of me—at least five steps.”
“We can take my carriage, Viola—Mr. Niles has fresh horses waiting for us.” Liv grasped at the only thing she could think of. “Anywhere you want to go, he will take us.”
“No. I don’t think so, Livia. Mr. Niles will just have to continue to wait.”
Liv stood and they moved down the stairs and through the house, Viola pressing the blade securely into the girl’s gut the entire time. Through the scant light shining through the fog in the mews, the three of them got into the carriage Viola had waiting behind Liv’s townhouse.
A silent ride, Liv stared at what little she could see through the fog at the passing streets. She recognized Charing Cross as they passed it, and her stomach sank, hardening into an iron ball.
When the carriage finally stopped, Liv leaned forward to look out the window.
She wasn’t surprised at what she saw.
{ Chapter 22 }
“The Jolly Vassal?” Liv’s eyes stayed on the street, refusing to turn to Viola.
“Yes. Sir Bishman is so very good at destroying innocents. I have decided he should feel the pain of the same thing.” Viola traced the side of the girl’s face with the knuckle of her forefinger. “What it is like to have innocence stolen—he will feel that—he will lose his precious, precious, so very innocent daughter.”
The girl whimpered, jerking back from Viola’s touch on her face.
Liv’s chest tightened, her words spitting out. “You mean to deliver the girl into there?”
“I do.”
“So she can be sold?”
Viola smiled, one side of her face lifting high. She motioned with her forehead to the carriage door. “Out you go, Livia. Or shall I just gut the girl right here?”
A sob, muffled by the cloth cutting across her mouth, shook the girl as her eyes pleaded with Liv.
Liv glanced from Viola to the girl, her look dropping to the tip of the dagger digging into the girl’s side. The yellow fabric of the girl’s dress was already torn, flesh showing.
Liv swallowed, debating whether she would be fast enough to wrench the dagger from Viola. Or strong enough. Liv had height and long limbs on her side, but Viola had the weight behind her—along with a madman’s mind.
Even if Liv did manage to get the dagger, they were sitting in a carriage Viola had secured with a driver Liv had never seen before—most likely a blackguard hired for this very purpose. Not to forget the fact that if Liv did manage to get the girl out of the carriage unharmed, they were in the middle of the East End on one of the most notoriously dangerous streets in London.
She might well get the girl out of the carriage, but getting the two of them out of the East End unscathed would be far more difficult.
For once in her life she needed to not react with haste. To think with caution about how to extract herself and the girl from this demented person that had possessed her friend.
Liv looked out the window at the fog moving past the front of the brothel. Maybe in there. Maybe inside, she could figure a way out of this without landing them stranded in the middle of the street.
Biding her time, Liv leaned to the door, turning the handle and pushing it open.
The driver was waiting, a burly man in a long black jacket. The scars cutting across his face indicated he would be of no help and was not one to trifle with.
The girl grunted, and Liv turned, catching her as Viola shoved her out of the carriage. It wasn’t until Liv had the girl upright on her feet that she realized two other men, brutes, had appeared and flanked them on the street.
Viola smoothed her skirts after regally stepping down to the muck on the cobblestones. She flicked the end of the dagger toward the driver standing to her left. “Follow him, Livia, and do not dare to think to run. I would hate to lose you as a friend.”
Viola didn’t bother to continue to point the dagger at the girl as the men closed in around them. She obviously knew who the brutes were, obviously expected them. With a smile, she neatly tucked her dagger tip-down into the reticule hanging from her wrist.
True, savage fear seized Liv at that moment.
This hadn’t been a spontaneous kidnapping. This had been planned. Planned well.
Liv looked at Viola. Her friend gave the driver a radiant smile, quickly pinching her own cheeks to make them rosy. “Let us move inward, boys.”
Everything she had ever known of her friend crashed about Liv. That Viola possessed this amount of cruelty dumfounded her entire perspective of the world—of what people were capable of doing.
Her feet like bricks, she moved with the group across the street to the brothel, her shoulders bumping in between the thugs. Every step they took, Liv’s heart sank lower.
She had missed her chance.
If only she had wrenched the dagger away from Viola at her house or in the carriage, she could have grabbed the girl and they could have run. Could have had half of a chance.
But now.
Now they were surrounded. Surrounded by thugs that would do far worse to them than the damage Viola’s dagger could have inflicted.
Liv could see little as they entered the brothel from the alley to the left of it—the same alley she had seen Tieran appear from the night before. The haze from pipes and cheroots hit her as they entered the brothel, the smell of whiskey and beer holding firm in the particles in the air.
Between the wide shoulders of the brutes, she could see a murmur sweep through the crowd in the large room. A slew of males turned, staring at them as they progressed, walking along a wall.
The distinct, sinking feeling of being promenaded like cattle washed over Liv, making her gag. She’d had a hood over her head when she had been sold years ago in this place, so she hadn’t witnessed with her eyes this room—but the smell—this exact rancid smell hit her as the same. The whistles and rumblings from the crowd echoed from the past, the same as she had endured when she had been dragged onto a stage.
This time, though, she could see some of the men’s faces. Rich, poor, drunk, sober, ugly, handsome—every walk of man sat
in this room. Evil, apparently, had no standards.
Liv reached behind her to clutch the bound hands of the girl, hoping to give her a reassuring squeeze. Liv had endured this once before and knew the torment that had to be running through the girl’s mind. The girl grasped Liv’s hand between her fingers, holding on in desperation.
In front of her, the driver opened a door to the side, moving into a skinny area that led to stairs. They were ushered up the staircase to the brothel’s second level, then pushed into a small room with ruby red draperies lining one wall, a bed shoved against the opposite wall, and a short dresser with a bowl of water and a mirror propped on top.
Liv tugged the girl to the bed, sitting her down onto the edge. She turned, attempting to position herself as much in front of the girl as she could without being obvious.
Just when Liv thought they were to be left in the room alone, a rotund man, half-a-head shorter than Liv, stepped past the brutes into the room. His jacket was of quality, or at least what sufficed as quality in this part of town, the bright blue fabric stretched tight over his belly. His double chin was greasy, as though he had just been stuffing bacon into his mouth and hadn’t bothered to wipe the excess drippings away before vacating the table.
As instantly repulsed as Liv was, alarm also shot down her spine. His eyes were beady—canny beyond any of the brutes that had brought them up to the room.
He looked from the girl on the bed to Liv, and then his shrewd eyes pinned upon Viola. “Me lovey, you have arrived unscathed, I presume?”
Liv’s jaw dropped as he rushed across the room to Viola, grabbing her upper arms as he looked her over. Viola didn’t jerk away. Didn’t show the slightest aversion to the man.
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