A Rogue to Remember

by Bowlin, Chasity

  Devil waited at the bar as Highcliff approached. “Are we to burgle someone then?”

  “It pays to be discreet,” Highcliff answered.

  “And is that why you paused on the step like a deb with dampened petticoats waiting for everyone to get a look?” Devil queried. There was no denying that Highcliff had a flare for the dramatic. In another life, the man would have trod the boards at Drury Lane.

  “And all they’ll remember is a gent in black clothes. They’ll not even know my face,” Highcliff replied. “Now, to the business at hand. Has he been here?”

  “Not for two days, likely. But we’re going to head down to the docks and find a couple of chaps by the name of Jim and Joseph Colton. They’ll be able to point us in in the right direction,” Devil said. “Apparently they’re very large.”

  “That’s not always a problem,” Highcliff said. “So long as they aren’t overly smart.”

  Devil drained the tankard, tossed another coin on the bar, and headed for the door, Highcliff falling in step beside him.

  *

  They were in a dirty shack at the back of a cemetery. There were broken bits of wood on the floor that likely were left behind from caskets set upon by grave robbers. They were on the outskirts of Lambeth. She knew that. She’d recognized the road they were on when she’d managed to get a glimpse of it through the slats of the small cart they’d used to transport her there. Covered with sacks that had once contained grain or flour, they had been none too clean and smelled of mold and heaven knew what else. Still, she was unscathed, thus far.

  Aside from being cold, hungry, and frightened, she had not been mistreated, but there was no promise that such good fortune would continue. She also knew that West was counting on Devil to pay a ransom for her and, to that end, he was electing to keep her relatively unharmed. That could change at his whim, however, and she knew it.

  “When do you mean to send your demands to Lord Deveril?” she asked. The shorter the time he planned to keep her with him, the more likely she’d emerge from the incident unharmed.

  “That’s no concern of yours,” West replied sharply.

  Willa arched one eyebrow at his dismissive response. “As the abducted person, I’d beg to differ. This room is filthy, cold, and dirty. I’m simply hoping to gauge how long I must remain in it.”

  West smiled, revealing slightly crooked teeth that were, so far as she could tell, the only physical flaw he possessed. And yet, she would never have called him handsome. Even that first day when she’d seen him in the park, her immediate response to him had been one of fear even when he’d done nothing that would engender such a response. And yet from the moment she’d first laid eyes upon Lord Deveril—Douglas—her reaction to him had been entirely different. Both outwardly handsome men, both with completely different characters and they both sparked within her intense but opposite reactions. Handsome as he was, Alaric West only made her feel fear, disgust and anger. Why?

  Because he reminded her of her father, she thought. Because he was utterly callous and had no feeling for anyone other than himself. Everything he did was selfish and self-serving. He was a man who would go to any lengths and hurt anyone in his path so long as it meant he could ultimately have his own way. And Lord Deveril was not that at all. He was a man who had done wrong, certainly. He’d indulged in countless vices and done so in a very public manner. Yet, it was never his intent to bring harm to anyone. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to soothe his sister in her final hours and was devoting himself to seeing that Marina could recover from the loss of her mother and live a good and happy life with him. All of society might revile him, but having had the opportunity to compare his character to the gossip that circulated about him, Willa had the uncomfortable revelation that she, along with many others, had misjudged the man. Just as Alice had misjudged West. She’d been misled by his too-handsome face and fallen prey to his empty promises.

  “Miss Marks, as I said before, I won’t enjoy hurting you, but that will not keep me from doing so if it means keeping you quiet. I’m not overly fond of loud females.”

  “I’ll keep her quiet,” one of the other large men present offered with a leer. He’d been watching her in a way that had left her distinctly uncomfortable from the very moment they’d entered the small, derelict building.

  “Now, now, Jim. We can’t be sending her back… spoiled,” West said with a grin. “Though if she doesn’t cooperate, I suppose there are certain ways to take your pleasure with her that would leave her virginity intact, assuming that it is. Is it, Miss Marks? Or is the Devil Lord as skilled with the ladies as they say?”

  Willa didn’t answer. He was goading her, but she would not be baited. She simply turned her face away and refused to look at the lot of them. The sound of their coarse laughter and their ribald comments made her stomach churn. Fear coiled in her belly, hot and tight. Nausea threatened, but she’d not do anything else to draw their ire or their attention. She could only hope that when they sent their demands to Devil, he would pay them. Of course, she was also depending on them to honor their end of the bargain. It was a thought that brought no comfort.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The large warehouse of Jacobs and Stern Shipping was located midway between the London Docks and those of the West India Company. As the city went, it was certainly one of the lesser populated regions, and growing late as it was, it would not be long before darkness descended in force. Still, as Devil made his way into the ramshackle and likely unsound building, Highcliff was at his side.

  There was a small office at the top of a set of rickety stairs with a dim glow emanating from it. “I’m going up,” Devil said.

  “If he expects to be paid for the information—”

  Devil cut a warning glance at his friend. “I am well aware that such intelligence will come at a cost. I’m willing to pay whatever it takes. This is my fault, after all.”

  “It’s Munro’s fault,” Highcliff corrected. “No one else’s.”

  Devil said nothing in response to that. He appreciated the other man’s effort, but he was not so easily absolved. Climbing the stairs, he stopped in the open doorway and found a squat man in rough clothes, sorting through a handful of manifests. “I need to speak with you about two of your dock workers.”

  The man eyed him cautiously, his eyes lighting as he took in Devil’s obviously expensive and finely-tailored clothing. “I reckon I could spare a minute… for a price.”

  “Of course,” Devil agreed, keeping his tone neutral. “Jim and Joseph Colton. Brothers, I believe.”

  “Aye, twins they are. Big as houses and only one brain betwixt ’em and I’d say it’s a few eggs shy of a dozen. What you want to know about them?”

  “I need to find them… they’ve taken work with a man by the name of Alaric Munro. He may also be calling himself Alaric West.”

  “I know him well enough,” the man said with a sneer. “Owes me for a case of brandy. If he thinks to stiff Jim or his brother, he’ll regret it. They’re big and they’re mean with it. They’ll cut his throat and dig his grave with their own bare hands. Big as spades anyway, they are.” The man held up his own hand for the purpose of illustration.

  What had been said had not set Devil’s mind at ease. “Do you know where they stay?”

  “Don’t stay in one place too much, Guv. Move about a bit. They take rooms in St. Giles when they can afford ’em. Sometimes they sleep under the bridge, yon. I’ve caught ’em in here a time or two, but I don’t tolerate that. Last thing I need is this place to go up in flames from them smoking and drinking… or fighting as they do and knocking over a lantern. But I reckon there’s an old shack out near Norwood where they hole up from time to time. If they’re doing aught they shouldn’t, I’m betting that’s where they’d go.”

  “Norwood? The cemetery?” Devil said.

  “Aye. I reckon they might be doing a bit of resurrection work on the side. No business of mine so long as they show up here to work and do
n’t reek of the grave. I’ll be having that shilling now, Guv’nor.”

  Devil’s eyes narrowed. “A shilling, was it? We agreed upon that?”

  “I reckon they could smash my head like a rotten apple. I figure it’s worth at least that,” the man replied with a nervous laugh.

  It was an argument he could not refute. Devil slipped a coin from his pocket and tossed it to the man. “This shack… what’s the actual direction of it?”

  “Backside of the boneyard. I’ll say no more,” the man said and pocketed the coin. “And you’ll not tell ’em it was me what told you. I don’t need the trouble.”

  “Silent as a grave they have yet to desecrate,” Devil agreed and turned to leave.

  “What is it you want with ’em?” the man asked. “Do they owe you money as well?”

  “They’ve abducted the woman I mean to marry.”

  The man shook his head. “Then you best find her quick. Jim’s got a fierce appetite for women… and the less they like him, the better he enjoys it. Banned by every cathouse nearby and the street girls won’t have nothing to do with him either. Stout as an ox. And mean with it like I said.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Devil said and tossed the man another coin for his trouble. Heading back down the stairs, he found Highcliff waiting for him.

  “Well?”

  “An abandoned shack near Norwood Cemetery is the most likely place… and we need to hurry. Time is of the essence,” Devil said. “I pray we are not already too late.”

  “You think they’ll kill her?”

  Devil shook his head. “I don’t think that’s their purpose. They mean to ransom her back to me, I’ve no doubt. But apparently one of the men West hired has a history of being very violent with women.”

  Highcliff nodded. “Right. I’ll get a hack. They can let us out at the cemetery gates and we’ll approach on foot. Should we get reinforcements?”

  “No. Apparently the Colton brothers are virtually beasts of men, but I think the element of surprise is in our favor. A large group and we’ll lose that,” Devil said. “And I can’t risk taking the time to secure them.”

  Highcliff nodded and then hailed a passing hack as they stepped out of the building. For Devil, he’d never felt such urgency. He’d underestimated West or Munro or whatever the bloody hell he wanted to call himself. The stakes were getting higher by the minute.

  *

  Willa was keeping quiet and being as unobtrusive as possible. Not that it mattered. The larger of the two men, slight as that difference was, in West’s employ had kept his eyes on her the entire time. It was as if his gaze left a trail of fetid muck in its wake. He was not the first man of such an ilk that she had encountered, but it was the first time she’d ever been in such a powerless position with one.

  No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than West rose to his feet. “Joseph, come with me… it’s time to deliver our demands to Lord Deveril. And as for you, Jim, you can’t tup her while we’re gone.”

  The big man looked at him with a grin. “Can I do anything else with her?”

  “You cannot leave me here with him,” Willa protested. “Take him with you and leave the other man behind. Please! I beg of you.”

  West approached her then. He dropped to his haunches in front of her. He reached out one hand and captured her chin, turning her face up to the light. His grip was bruising and painful, just as he intended.

  Willa moved to smack his hand away, but he caught her wrist and gave it a sharp and painful twist.

  “Jim, would you agree to sacrificing a quarter of your agreed upon pay for the opportunity I’ve presented you?” West asked, still studying her face intently.

  The man considered it for a moment. “I reckon I would. I’ve paid more than that for some whores. Less for others. Though she ain’t a whore, is she? I suspect I’m gettin’ a bargain!”

  West smiled coldly at her as he replied to his compatriot, “Indeed you are, Jim. Women such as Miss Marks here, virginal and trained in all the ladylike arts, they auction them off at some houses for hundreds of pounds. I saw one sold for a thousand once. Pretty little thing she was, though certainly much younger than our Miss Marks here. Why, I believe you might be considered a spinster, my dear. Aren’t you?”

  Willa ignored his question and said, with far more bravado than she actually felt, “If I am harmed, Lord Deveril—”

  “Lord Deveril will what? I asked who you were… his betrothed, according to rumor, but I have inside information to the contrary. If that’s the truth, I’ll bare my ass and wade right into the frigid Thames. No, Miss Marks, you’re a hireling. He might be calling you his betrothed in order to spare your reputation, but a chit like you? Hardly, Miss Marks. If you were an opera dancer, or an actress, or even a known demirep, then perhaps I could see it. But you’re none of those things. I was reared under well enough circumstances to know a governess when I see one, no matter how fine her gown may be. By the way, don’t get too attached to that one. I’ll be taking it with me. There’s a shop that will pay a pretty penny for it. Street girls pay to rent them. Dress lodgers they call them.”

  Willa gaped at him. “I cannot give you my gown! What on earth would I wear in its stead?”

  “I neither know nor care,” he said. “There are rags enough around here that you may cover yourself with… assuming Jim gives you the opportunity to do so.”

  “You are a vile, wretched man,” Willa murmured softly. “And you will pay for all that you do here!”

  “This is hardly the worst I’ve done, Miss Marks,” West said softly. “Mind your tongue or it will not be Jim who puts you in your place… and if I’m forced to do so, know that I will endeavor to make it both as painful and as humiliating as possible for you. Is that understood?”

  Whether it was cowardice or wisdom, Willa kept her mouth closed firmly in the face of his threat. When he grabbed her wrist again and hauled her up, twisting it even more cruelly in the process, she couldn’t bite back the yelp of pain.

  “Remove your gown or I will do it for you,” he warned softly.

  He’d lied, Willa realized. He did enjoy hurting women, or perhaps he simply enjoyed hurting anyone he deemed weaker than himself. Anger, shame, terror—so many emotions warred within her. But Willa knew that what she needed more than anything was time. Her hands trembled as she reached for the small buttons that held closed the bib front of her gown. When the fabric parted, she loosened the tapes and let it fall to the floor where she stepped out of it. West scooped it up, his gaze traveling over her insolently.

  “Perhaps there’s more than being a governess to you, after all. What a pity your gowns hide so much, Miss Marks.”

  Hope that Lord Deveril would rescue her, somehow, was all that she had. With her gown in his hands, standing before him in only her shift, stays, and petticoats, it was a state of undress that no man, not even Lord Deveril, had seen her in. Willa reached for a dirty blanket that was hanging over what was left of a broken chair. She quickly draped it over her shoulders, hiding as much of herself from him as possible. It was hardly modest, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

  “You have the gown, Mr. West. Now leave me be.”

  He laughed. “How eager you are to be rid of me… you may change your mind, Miss Marks. The boots as well, if you please. They’ll fetch a pretty penny also.”

  “You’re a blackguard!”

  “Yes. I am. Right now, Jim might fondle you a bit. Have a bit of fun with you, but he’ll not take the virginity you cherish so proudly… unless I give him leave to do so. Your boots, Miss Marks. Now.”

  Willa shivered at the implied threat and stooped to remove her boots. When the task was done, she tossed the footwear at West’s feet. He laughed softly as he picked them up, before he turned and walked away. He called out for Joseph to accompany him, and they both left the small shack. She spared a glance in the direction of the man called Jim and immediately regretted it. A dozen blankets could
have been draped over her and it would not have been enough to offer her any real sense of modesty in his presence. Her skin prickled with unease as West and the other man exited their makeshift shelter.

  The rickety door hadn’t even closed behind them before Jim was up on his feet and approaching her.

  “Stay away from me,” Willa said, hating the way her voice trembled. It wasn’t in her nature to be fearful, but he was a large man and there were naught but silent graves around them. Even if she screamed, there’d be no one to come to her aid.

  “It’s just a bit of fun, girlie,” he said, a wicked and terrifying grin spreading across his craggy face to reveal stained, dirty teeth.

  “I’d hardly call it fun,” she snapped. “Leave me be!”

  His twisted smile widened as he stepped toward her. The expression chilled her to the bone. She realized that he was enjoying her fear. It only increased his pleasure in what would undoubtedly be her inevitable fate at his hands. Willa stepped back, retreating from him as he continued to approach. Her foot struck a loose board and, instinctively, she reached down and grasped it up, wielding it like a club. “Stay back,” she warned.

  His smile gave way and a menacing growl escaped him. “I’ll not be threatened by a woman! Someone needs to teach you your place, you uppity quim!”

  Willa gripped the board more tightly. She had no illusions about her ability to defend herself against him, but she refused to simply give in without a fight. Backed into a corner, she faced a man twice her size with nothing more than a rotting remnant of board. He surged toward her and, without hesitation, Willa swung her impromptu weapon at him. Had she inspected it more closely, she would have known it was a more effective weapon than she had realized. A lone nail remained in the wood. It struck him, raking over his forehead, and blood welled in its wake.