"Please – I don't understand."
"The necklace was stolen from the Duchess's bedroom one day shortly after a strange man had paid her a call," Alice explained. "We believe that man was your brother."
"No, no," Julia moaned, pressing her hands to her face. "Edmund would never do such a thing. You must be mistaken."
"The Westbourne Sapphire is very valuable," said Alice, trying to speak as kindly as possible to ease Julia's distress. "But its true value lies in the memories that surround it. It was very precious to the Duchess. She would never have given it away."
"Edmund was shocked that she did," said Julia. "He told me it was terrible – seeing the necklace that should have been mine cast aside on an admirer of only a few weeks. He was very angry about it."
"Do you disbelieve me?" asked the Duchess. Julia rose to her feet.
"I do not know what to believe. I can only think there has been some dreadful mistake. Let me fetch the necklace for you – perhaps it is not the precious one which went missing, after all. There must be some explanation for all this."
As soon as Julia was gone, Alice shook her head mournfully. "I fear there can be only one explanation. Miss Mallory's brother has lied to her as he lied to you. I cannot help feeling sorry for her!"
"I, too, have a mind to be sympathetic," said the Duchess. "We will have to see what can be done for Miss Mallory. I hate to think of a child of my dear Westbourne living here in such a dangerous part of London."
"How I admire you!" cried Alice. "To behave so graciously under such circumstances! I do not know how you can be so good."
"What circumstances are they?" asked the Duchess, raising her eyebrow. "After all, Miss Mallory must be at least five years older than my poor son would be now. As you know, my son Charles was born in the first year of my marriage. There can be no question of Westbourne's fidelity to me. Oh, I knew he'd had youthful dalliances. What man is there who has not run the risk of similar mistakes? But I forgave him his past. I never asked him about it in life and I do not judge him for it in death. No man is perfect, Miss Sharp. You will do well to remember that when you take a husband."
Alice thought of Kirby and her heart stuttered in her chest. An imperfect man, but a perfect husband nonetheless. If only she could share with her friend how desperately she intended to win him!
Julia's footsteps sounded from beyond the door. Before she re-entered the room, however, the Duchess and Alice were startled from their conversation by another, most unwelcome sound.
Someone else – someone bringing plenty of friends, all heavy of foot and brash of laughter – had opened the front door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Edmund Mallory was not at all the man Alice had pictured. She had imagined an ill-favoured old crook, with tiny, leering eyes, rat-tailed hair and perhaps a smear or two of mud to finish the picture.
The man who stood at the drawing room door, legs akimbo, hand resting lightly on the pistol at his hip, was not like that at all.
He was tall – tall enough to block out all sight of the bawdy friends crowding the hallway behind him – and stood straight-backed and strong. The scar on his face gave him a dashing air that was almost handsome. He looked from Alice to the Duchess with an imperious, commanding arrogance that made her fingers itch to slap him. His face was well-formed, his hair and eyebrows pitch-dark, and his lip quirked in a bitter smirk.
"Well, now," he said, in a deep voice which sent a prickle of danger up Alice's neck. "What an unexpected pleasure."
Alice lent the Duchess a hand so that she might rise to her feet. "Mr Mallory," the Duchess said, more than his match in hauteur. "At least, I believe that is your name? It is not the one you gave me, after all."
"That it is not," purred Mallory, coming into the room with long, easy strides. The men who peered in behind him were not nearly as elegantly-dressed or clean as he was. "I do hope my sister has done her duty by her guests. Have you been well-entertained, Duchess?" The last word was said with such scorn that it carried the weight of an insult.
"Your sister is quite the gentlewoman," said the Duchess primly.
"Ha! Gentlewoman! That's something, from an oh-so-fine lady like yourself."
"Gentility is more than I can say for her brother," snapped the Duchess.
There was a commotion in the corridor as Julia fought to re-enter the room. "Edmund!" she called out, a ringing tone of desperation catching in her throat. "Edmund, tell these brutes to let me through!"
Mallory raised his hand and the men behind him parted. Julia half-fell into the drawing room. She was breathing heavily and eyeing her brother as if he frightened her. One quick movement placed her between him and their two guests.
"The Duchess was calling to settle a misunderstanding," said Julia. "It seems the matter of the necklace is not quite as simple as you led me to believe."
"Necklace?" asked Mallory, his voice deepening to a growl.
"Why, Edmund, don't be so silly," said Julia, keeping her tone light. She held out a hand and opened it to reveal a sapphire on a golden chain. It was square-cut, and so clear that it sparkled in the light. "I am speaking of the necklace you brought me from Amberley House. The necklace you told me was a gift."
"Put that away," barked Mallory. Julia's hand jerked closed. The flash of rage cleared from Mallory's face in an instant as his eyes landed on Alice. "Why, I don't believe I've been introduced to your friend. Duchess, may I have the honour of an introduction?"
What a strange feeling, to have a man obey all the strict rules of polite Society while his crowd of unpleasant friends leered from the doorway. Alice shifted uneasily under Mallory's stare. It reminded her of the way Kirby looked at her – the difference being that where Kirby's attentions made her glow, Mallory's made her skin crawl.
"I am Miss Alice Sharp," she said. Mallory tutted.
"That's not the proper form of an introduction. Did no-one ever teach you to wait your turn to speak?"
"I see no need to stand on ceremony." Alice stepped forward to stand beside Julia. She could feel the other woman trembling. "You have stolen this necklace from my friend. We are here to reclaim it."
"Stolen!" Mallory repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth like a sweetmeat. "Stolen. An interesting word for an act of justice."
"Justice?" Alice repeated, half-laughing. Inside, she was filled with terror. The stares of the men lurking behind Mallory had turned her stomach to water. But she was determined not to let her fear show. That would only give him the upper hand.
"Yes," snapped Mallory. "Justice. Is it not just for a forsaken daughter to claim her inheritance?"
"Edmund," interrupted Julia. "Be reasonable. You must know that as an illegitimate child I cannot expect to inherit anything." She turned to the Duchess. Alice was touched to see that, although tears stood in Julia's eyes, she spoke firmly. "I will give the necklace back to you. I do not understand how this happened, but I apologise on my brother's behalf. I am sure he never wished to distress you."
Mallory leaped forward and caught Julia by the wrist. She cried out in shock.
"Do not dare give it to her!" he snarled. "It's ours – do you hear me?"
"Let her go!" Alice shouted. She ran forward to try to wrestle Mallory's grip from his sister's arm. "How can you treat your own sister in this way?"
Mallory laughed. "Hobbs! Jones!"
Two of the men outside stormed into the room and seized Alice at the shoulders. She let out a scream and tried to wrest herself away, but they were too strong. A hot gust of foul breath washed over her.
Mallory twisted Julia's arm behind her back. "What use is having a Duke's daughter for a sister if I reap none of the benefits, eh?"
"Edmund, please," Julia sobbed. Alice struggled to reach her. "It's not yours. It's not even mine."
"Let the old bat take it back from you, if she can," laughed Mallory. Alice had never wished for a man's strength more than she did in that moment. What had they been thinking? Why had they been so foolish
as to come here alone?
What would become of them now?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Everyone in Seven Dials knew where Edmund Mallory lived. A tiny, cramped house in the middle of a slum-like terrace. The house he'd grown up in. Kirby didn't know what the man did with his money, but it wasn't invested in his living space.
It had been the work of a moment to bribe the butler at Amberley House into revealing where the Duchess had taken Alice that morning. The ride to Seven Dials felt as though it had lasted for hours. Kirby's heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn't urge his horse on fast enough.
His mind was fixed on Alice. On the awful picture in his mind of Alice with an evil man's hands wrapped around her throat.
She had no idea of the viper's nest she was walking into.
All seemed quiet from the outside. The Duke of Westbourne's elegant landau looked very odd in that filthy street. Kirby tied his horse to the carriage and adjusted his red coat, wondering whether he ought to knock or simply break down the door. It didn't seem right to enter with violence when everything was so still. Perhaps Alice and the Duchess had simply found Mr Mallory not at home, and were about to come out?
A sharp whistle sounded from the house. "Militia!" someone barked. Kirby ran up and pounded on the door with his fist. He heard the sounds of stamping feet inside. Whoever was there was fleeing through the back door.
"Open up!" he shouted. "Open up!"
He was astonished to see a terrified-looking boy in a footman's livery open the door.
"Mr Mallory is –" he began. Kirby shoved him aside and strode into the narrow hallway. What kind of man kept a footman and lived in a place like this?
A man who believed he was meant for better things, that's who. And a man who clung to his old ways like a limpet to its rock in a rough tide.
"Mallory!" Kirby shouted. The drawing room opened, and a familiar smirk appeared beneath a wave of neatly-combed dark hair.
"My, my, Captain Kirby! What an...unexpected pleasure." Mallory stepped out into the hallway, waving carelessly towards the back door. "Forgive my friends. They suffer from a serious allergy to red coats."
"Where are the ladies?" Kirby demanded, but no sooner had he spoken than Alice's voice rang out from the drawing room.
"Richard! We're in here!"
Kirby pushed Mallory aside and threw open the door.
He saw Alice, the Duchess, and another woman, all sitting on the sofa, hands bound in front of them.
Before he could take another step, a sharp point prickled through the tough fabric of his red coat.
"You couldn't expect me to let your friends go," purred Mallory, twisting the dagger so that it tore Kirby's clothing and scratched its point on his bare skin. "Not when they'd go straight to the Bow Street Runners and turn me in."
"What are you planning to do with us?" Alice demanded. Kirby had never seen her look so fierce. His heart rose in his chest at the sight of her.
"I haven't yet decided," Mallory admitted, pushing Kirby in front of him and kicking the door closed. "Quite the tricky situation you've put me in, turning my own sister against me."
Kirby wondered whether he was quick enough to whirl around and knock the knife from Mallory's hand. Would he make it in time, or would he be stabbed? His shoulders tensed as he prepared to make the effort.
He caught Alice's eye just in time. She shook her head. No.
Kirby stilled.
"What is it you want, Mallory?" he asked, through gritted teeth. The knife poked him again.
"I wanted what was rightfully mine and Julia's," Mallory growled. "An inheritance."
"Don't your gaming hells bring in enough for you?" asked Kirby.
"I'm not talking about money. I'm talking about power. Honour. Respectability." Mallory grabbed Kirby's shoulder and forced him down into a chair. "All the things the old Duke stole from my mother when he abandoned her with a new-born baby on the streets of London." He gestured wildly at the girl sitting between Alice and the Duchess. Clearly, that new-born baby had now grown up, despite its troubles. "And since that was denied me... I chose to take my revenge."
"Westbourne had no choice," cried the Duchess. Kirby was amazed the woman could speak, she was so pale. "A Duke's son could not have married a common woman. It would never have been permitted!"
"There is always a choice!" Mallory shouted. "Your husband's choice left my sister a pauper!" He leaned in close to the Duchess's ear. "And now, dear lady, fate has brought you to me in recompense. A necklace is the least you might lose."
"Do not say anything," begged the girl. "You will only antagonise him further. My brother's moods –"
"Silence, Julia!" snapped Mallory. "This is for your own good, you foolish girl."
"I have a proposal," said Kirby. All the eyes in the room, including Mallory's wild ones, turned on him.
"A proposal?" Mallory sneered.
"Yes. You wish to be a gentleman, Mr Mallory? I have a gentleman's solution to our current...predicament." Kirby rose from his seat, taking care not to make any sudden movements which might frighten Mallory into violence.
"A duel?" asked Mallory, curling his lip. Kirby shook his head.
"A contest much more to your liking. I am a gambling man. You own a gaming hell. We shall place a bet on the outcome of a game."
This perked Mallory's interest. "And the stakes?"
"The women's freedom – and the necklace."
Mallory tapped his chin, considering. "A fine bet – at least for you. What if I win? What's my prize?"
Kirby was at a loss. He had nothing of value to offer. "You keep the necklace –"
"But I have it already." Mallory took it from his pocket and swung it mockingly in Kirby's face. Kirby knew better than to make a grab for it.
"I have a stake for you," said Alice. She rose to her feet, her bound hands clasped in front of her. "Myself."
"Alice, no!" cried Kirby. She stood firm.
"You wish to enter Society? To gain respectability? I am a Duchess's sister. What could be more respectable than that?"
"Dear, dear, Miss Sharp," laughed Mallory. "You really don't stand on ceremony, do you?"
"You will never receive a better offer," said Alice, tilting her chin up proudly. Kirby ran to her side.
"I cannot let you do this," he said desperately. "It is madness!"
Alice's eyes met his, and for one wonderful second they were the only two people in the room. The only people in all the world.
"I trust you," she whispered. Kirby felt sick. He was a fine gambler, to be sure, but was he fine enough to risk a woman's happiness?
The thought of Alice married to a monster like Mallory made Kirby wish that he'd demanded a duel. His breath burned in his chest.
"I accept," smirked Mallory. He stroked Alice's face with a finger. "The necklace for Miss Alice Sharp. Two beautiful jewels of equal value."
"Unhand her," Kirby growled. "You have not yet won."
"Not yet." Mallory grinned a cat's grin. "Have you a deck of cards? Dice? No? Then we shall use mine. What's your preference? Hazard?"
"No." Hazard was too much a game of chance. Kirby could not possibly risk Alice's future on the whims of fate.
Mallory looked disappointed. "But you forget the proper form, Kirby. As the challenger, you do not have the right to choose our game." He sat down at the table and invited Kirby to do the same. "Here. You may test the dice to see they are not loaded."
He opened a small box on the table which contained dice, gaming fish, and set of cards. Kirby rolled each dice a couple of times.
One. Three. Two. Six.
He finished on that lucky number. "I am satisfied."
"Caster or setter?" asked Mallory. "As I chose the game, you may choose your position."
Kirby hesitated. His mind was whirling through everything he knew about the game of hazard. Which side was most likely to win?
"Setter," he said. It was for Mallory to choose his winning number �
� the main – and throw the dice. If he threw the main on the first roll, he would win. And Alice would be his forever.
"The main is seven," said Mallory.
"A safe choice."
"I am not such a renowned gambling man as you, Captain."
He threw. Kirby held his breath.
A two and a four. Six. Mallory smiled. "So we roll again."
As the rules went, another six would now win Mallory the game. A seven would lose it. And he would keep rolling until he struck one or the other.
"Kirby," moaned Alice. His heart wrenched with the need to take her in his arms, to lift her up and carry her away from this place. But he could do nothing.
Beneath the table, his fingers caressed the handle of the pistol in his belt.
Mallory threw again. Five. He cursed under his breath.
Kirby's fingers fastened around the pistol. When Mallory was distracted by the next throw of the dice, he clicked the safety catch.
"Twelve!" Mallory laughed softly. "Are you feeling well, Kirby? You look pale."
"I am perfectly at ease," Kirby lied. Mallory threw a third time.
The first dice landed. A three.
The second rolled almost to the edge of the table before settling in place.
Four.
Mallory was still transfixed by the dice when Kirby brought his pistol smoothly around and pressed the barrel into his forehead. "You have lost, sir."
Mallory looked at him with a spark of madness in his eyes. "Best of three?"
"Alice," said Kirby, "take the ladies and get outside. Sit in the hackney cab and wait for me."
"Richard –"
"Do it now." Kirby rose to his feet, keeping the gun on Mallory.
Alice helped the Duchess up and fumbled with the doorknob, managing to turn it despite the rope around her wrists. Only when the ladies had gone did Kirby speak to Mallory again.
"You lost fairly," he said. "A gentleman's wager. Hand over the necklace."
"It will never truly be hers," spat Mallory.
"It doesn't matter what you think," said Kirby, snatching the necklace from Mallory's hands. "You will abide by our agreement or I'll kill you. Do you understand?" He pushed on the gun for emphasis. Mallory's head jerked back. "Come near my friends again and you're a dead man."
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