The Dukes of Vauxhall

by Vanessa Kelly, Christi Caldwell, Theresa Romain, Shana Galen

  The novelty of trusting him—a man—to keep her safe and to give her what she needed was part of the excitement of being with Henry. It had been so long since she’d trusted a man, any man, with any part of herself.

  But she surprised herself by trusting Henry—at least for now, in this moment.

  And so she could finally let go. When she did, pleasure spiraled upward, hitting her so hard she cried out and jerked. And even that was not enough. The climax ripped through her, making her back arch and her breath catch. Henry held her, his thumb pressing against her, then easing, then pressing again, as though he knew exactly what her body needed.

  When the storm passed, when she could breathe again, she looked down at Henry’s smoky eyes and didn’t know what to say. He’d stripped her armor away, broken her shell, and she felt vulnerable and exposed. It wasn’t her nudity that made her feel so. It was the way he seemed to look at her and see her, Kate Dunn.

  No one had seen Kate Dunn in a long, long time. Not even Kate herself.

  “Henry,” she said, her voice low and husky. “I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Shh,” he said with a smile. “Don’t talk. Just kiss me.”

  She knew her own words, and she was glad of them. She bent and kissed him, pressing her body against the heat of him, the wool of his coat scratching her tender breasts. She wanted the coat gone. She wanted nothing between them, his skin sliding against her skin. She pushed the coat off his shoulders, and then a short, quick knock sounded on the door.

  “Duke.”

  “Go away,” she said, but she knew even as she said it that the moment was broken.

  “We have a problem,” Red said from the other side of the door.

  There was always a problem. She looked at Henry, and he gave her a rueful smile then handed her the shirt she’d been wearing. “Give me a minute,” she told Red.

  She disentangled herself from Henry, stood, and fastened her trousers. Not bothering with the bindings for her breasts, she pulled the shirt over her head and grabbed for her coat. Henry stood as well and straightened his own clothing, an easier job since his hadn’t been removed.

  “I should go,” he said. “It’s late.”

  She did not want him to go, but asking him to stay was an even worse idea. They should end this now. They would do their jobs tomorrow and say good-bye. She couldn’t afford to develop feelings for him. A voice inside warned her it was too late for that, but she pushed it down.

  “Will you be safe on the journey home?” she asked.

  He frowned at her. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

  “I wasn’t—” she started. “The gin…”

  “My head is clear now,” he interrupted. “You have business. I’ll see you in the morning, Kate.” He bent and kissed her hand, the gesture so far from what she’d expected that she didn’t even pull her hand back when he released it. Instead, she stared at her hand for a long moment even after he’d left the room.

  It wasn’t until Red stomped in that she lowered it and remembered she wasn’t a lady.

  * * *

  Vauxhall Gardens was lit like a mansion in Mayfair. Kate had never seen it so bright. Every lamp was ablaze, and additional men walked about with torches to light the way of the guests entering. The men and women were brightly dressed, their yellows and oranges contrasting sharply with Kate’s sober black coat and black trousers.

  “I thought we told him to run out of oil for the lamps,” Red said under his breath. He was at Kate’s side as they walked past the Grove, where an orchestra played for a small audience.

  “We did.” Kate was seething, annoyed at the lights and feeling exposed. “He said it was taken care of.” She shouldn’t have trusted him. She should have sent Scrugs or Davey with him to make sure everything was done as she’d asked.

  “Let’s hope he got rid of the constables,” Red muttered.

  Kate was not feeling hopeful. She’d known Henry couldn’t call off the Bow Street Runners. They’d be in the gardens until the whole of the prince’s celebrations were over, but they’d prepared for a half-dozen Runners. She was not prepared for a score of constables too.

  “Let’s head toward the dark walks,” Red said.

  “It appears all we have to do is follow the crowd.” Kate nodded at the line of men making their way toward the darkest corner of the gardens. The bare-knuckle fight between Storm aka Emperor and King was the worst-kept secret in London at the moment, and Kate wouldn’t have had it any other way. The more people paying to walk through the doors, the better. Others would take home the lion’s share of the spectators’ fees, but Kate and her gang were handling the betting. That was where the real blunt was. No matter who won, the Duke of Vauxhall would make a pretty profit.

  And then Kate and her gang would disappear for the rest of the prince’s celebrations. She would lie low until all the fuss was over and then go back to running the regular rackets.

  In her head, she could hear the echoes of Henry’s warning that her reign as the Duke of Vauxhall couldn’t continue forever. In the end, everyone was betrayed. She could only hope that when her end came, it would be swift and painless.

  That was all she’d allow herself to hope. Henry might like to delude himself that there was more out there for her, but she knew the truth. This life was all she had. She’d known from childhood that her life would be hard and short. She just hadn’t expected to wish it could have been different.

  Kate was pleased to note that the lamps were fewer and farther between as they neared the dark walks. A few had even been extinguished, and she thought she could thank her cubs for that work. She was about to ask who Red had assigned to keep watch on this area when he touched her arm in warning. Kate saw the man in the shadows a moment before he stepped out. The warning also gave her time to recognize him, which saved his life. Her hand had gone to the knife at her waist, but now she sheathed it again.

  “Bexley,” she said. “Nice of you to show your face. We can see it so clearly in all the light.”

  He frowned but didn’t offer an apology. Instead, he stepped back into the shadows. “We need to talk.”

  Without waiting for her to follow, he started down a dirt path hidden by the bushes. She knew the path well. She was one of the people who’d made it.

  “Do you want me to kill him, or do you want the pleasure, Duke?” Red asked, staring after Henry.

  “That pleasure is solely mine,” she promised. “But let’s hear what he has to say first.” The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and that was always a bad sign.

  Kate and Red followed Henry along the path until they came to an old stone bench, long covered by moss and beginning to crumble. At one time, this section of the gardens must have been open, but it had been forgotten, the trees and bushes around it allowed to grow to conceal it. That suited Kate’s purposes very well.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Kate said before Henry could try to dominate the discussion. “We were to meet inside the tent. The fight starts in less than an hour.”

  “We have a problem.”

  “You’re the problem,” Red told him.

  “No, the Prince Regent is the problem,” Henry said.

  Kate folded her arms over her chest. “Explain.”

  “He’s here—well, I don’t know if he’s here yet, but he’s coming.”

  “You said he didn’t plan to attend again until the concert and fireworks,” Red hissed.

  “That was what he said, but he obviously changed his mind. Everyone in Town is talking about this fight. The prince doesn’t want to miss it.”

  Kate put her hand to her forehead in a vain attempt to ward off the megrim she knew was coming. The last thing she needed was the Prince Regent at her prizefight. “And this is why all the lamps are lit?” she asked.

  “I had the oil moved so the lamplighters would run out, but when the staff from Prinny’s household arrived, they sent for more.”

>   Kate gritted her teeth. “What about the constables?”

  “They won’t be here tonight, but the prince will have his royal guard with him.”

  Kate blew out a breath. “That’s fine. They’ll be here to protect the prince. They won’t bother with the rest.”

  “But you can’t still plan to steal the ring,” Red asked.

  “Why not?”

  “What ring?” That was from Henry. Kate wanted to curse.

  She ignored the question. “Why not?”

  “Because now you have more than the Bow Street Runners and Devonshire’s men to contend with. You have Prinny’s royal guard as well.”

  “Devonshire? What the devil?”

  Kate kept her gaze on Red. “Which might actually work to our advantage,” Kate said.

  “Our advantage?” Henry protested. “My tasks for tonight were to eliminate as many constables as I could and rid the gardens of the oil for the lamps. I don’t want any part in the rest of it. I bloody well knew there was more to this than the betting, and I don’t want to know what else you’re planning.”

  “Then pretend you didn’t hear it.”

  “I wish to hell and back I hadn’t, but I’m putting it together now. Devonshire is offering a ring to the winner of the fight, and you think you can steal it. But Devonshire won’t hand it over. It will be guarded. And with all the other complications, stealing it is nigh impossible.”

  “It will certainly be a challenge,” she said. And honestly, she had no other choice. This was it. Her last score.

  “You’ll make a fortune from the betting. Take that and walk away,” Henry suggested.

  Kate shook her head. “You know I can’t do that.”

  Henry closed his eyes. “I bloody well knew you would say that.”

  * * *

  Henry followed Kate and Red back to an enormous tent that had been erected deep along one of the dark walks. It was the sort of tent generals might use to confer with staff or within which a sheikh might house his harem. The crowds were spilling out of the flap now, and it was obvious that, despite the size of the tent, not everyone would be able to fit inside. He wasn’t certain if the record attendance would help Kate or hurt her.

  He didn’t know whether he wanted her to be helped or hurt.

  Henry didn’t condone theft, and he didn’t want to be a part of it. It would have made his life so much easier if Kate had been willing to walk away from the theft of the ring. Then she would have been safe—well, safer. But he’d known she never would. Her gang knew she planned to steal the ring, and if she didn’t risk it now, she would lose face in their eyes. She couldn’t afford that. She had the sort of power that relied upon blunt, violence, and risk. If her gang wasn’t in awe of her, afraid of her, or paid well by her, they’d defect to another leader.

  She’d said she’d steal the ring. Either she stole it, or she lost everything.

  But if she stole the ring, he would lose her.

  Henry supposed he would have lost her no matter what, but there had been a moment the night before when he’d hoped they might have a future. Kissing her again had been better than the first time. And touching her, feeling her naked skin beneath his hands, watching her climax—those experiences had been like nothing he could have imagined.

  He wanted her again. Even now, he had the urge to touch her, to put a hand on her shoulder or the small of her back. She would cut it off before she allowed his hand on her, though. She was every inch the Duke of Vauxhall at the moment. She moved, spoke, and oozed authority. She didn’t have to push past the crowds to gain entrance to the tent. Even if most of the crowd had no idea she was the notorious Duke of Vauxhall, they knew she was someone menacing. The men parted for her without a word of protest, and when she entered the tent, voices hushed.

  She didn’t pause, but went straight to her gang, who were working the room, collecting bets. Henry followed, glancing around the dark space. The only light was on the ring drawn in the center. Stools for the fighters sat at opposite sides, and Henry recognized Godrick Gunnery standing near his protégé. He rolled his neck and then seemed to nod slightly when the Duke of Vauxhall looked at him.

  Scrugs approached Kate immediately. “Duke, we can’t fit too many more. Davey and Flasher went to see if there is a way to open up one side. Maybe a few more can sit over there.”

  “And the betting?” she asked, her voice low. Henry supposed it might sound masculine to someone who didn’t know her, but nothing about her appearance would ever seem masculine to him again.

  “We’re collecting the wagers now,” he answered.

  “Send some men outside to collect from those who can’t get a seat. Even if they don’t see the fight, they can still wager.”

  “Yes, Duke.” Scrugs moved away just as a trio of men moved in.

  “Runners,” Red hissed.

  Henry didn’t know the men and didn’t have any experience with Runners, but now that he knew who they were, he could have picked them out. They exuded the same sort of authority Kate carried.

  “Duke,” one of the Runners said with a mocking bow. He had a black mustache that looked as though it had been oiled regularly. “We had a feeling you might make an appearance.”

  “Half of London has made an appearance,” Kate said, looking pointedly around the room. “I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  “Looks like your boys are taking wagers. Has gambling on prizefights at Vauxhall Gardens been sanctioned by the Crown?” the mustached Runner asked.

  “Why don’t you ask the Prince Regent?” she answered smoothly. “He’s wagering twenty pounds on King.”

  Henry could barely keep his mouth from dropping open. She was lying. He knew she was lying because she hadn’t even known the prince was coming, couldn’t know whether he would actually attend or not. He certainly hadn’t given her any blunt for a wager. But she’d spoken so convincingly that Henry could almost believe she had been chatting with the prince a few moments before entering. The Runners looked skeptical.

  The head Runner nodded. “I’ll be sure to ask him, Duke. And if I find out differently, we’ll come looking for you.”

  “I’m not a hard man to find.” She walked away from the Runners and toward the seats reserved for the Duke of Devonshire. Henry had seen the duke standing near them, and since they were padded and ornamented with gold, he assumed they’d been brought from one of the ducal residences so the man would not have to place his pampered arse on a hard surface.

  “Should we offer them a bribe?” Red asked as they walked.

  Kate shook her head. “Unfortunately, not all of the Runners are on the take. Those three can’t be bought. Keep an eye on them.”

  “Yes, Duke.” And then Red was gone.

  Henry moved beside Kate, and she said, almost conversationally, “Introduce me to your friend, won’t you?”

  He raised his brows. “The Duke of Devonshire is not my friend. We barely know each other.”

  “That’s good enough. Introduce me. I want to see the ring.”

  Henry clenched his fists. “I told you I don’t want to be part of this,” he said under his breath.

  “Too late for that, Henry.” She stopped a few feet before the circle of sycophants surrounding Devonshire.

  Devonshire paused in his conversation, his questioning gaze traveling from her to Henry.

  “Duke,” Henry said genially. Devonshire’s friends called him Hart, but as Henry had said, he was not one of Devonshire’s friends. “Allow me to introduce you to an…acquaintance of mine.” He’d purposefully paused, as though reluctant to call Kate an acquaintance. As though his association with the crime lord was forced. “The Duke of Vauxhall.”

  The duke’s gaze lowered to Kate briefly. “Sir.”

  Kate bowed with gentlemanly courtesy. She would have made a wonderful actress if she hadn’t been a crime lord. “Your Grace. Thank you for offering the prize to the winner of the match tonight. I’ve heard the ring is quite spectacular.”
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  The duke didn’t answer, but he inclined his head toward a footman in the Devonshire livery. The man held a silver tray in the center of which was an ornate wooden box that would have fit snugly in a man’s palm. He approached and, with a gloved hand, opened the lid. Henry had seen many riches, but even his eyes widened at the sight of the ring. It was gold and sparkled with diamonds. The band was thick and masculine and in the center of the ring, surrounded by diamonds, was a large square-cut stone.

  “Perfect,” Kate said, managing to look almost disinterested. “A fine prize.” She bowed and then moved away. Henry bowed as well and followed. He looked back and saw the footman had returned to his place, holding the tray with the box, once again closed, but in full view.

  “You seem unimpressed,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  “No reason to appear too interested.” She steered them to the seats that had been reserved for her, to the left of the duke and in the front. There were two seats, and both were occupied by gang members who stood and moved aside when she approached. “Sit back down,” she told them. “I won’t be sitting much.” To Henry, she said, “You won’t be sitting at all. I want you far away when I take the ring.”

  “You don’t have to do this. You could come with me—”

  She waved a hand, cutting him off. “We both know I can’t accept that offer, and you don’t even have the right to make it. I wish we were alone, so I could say good-bye. But this will have to do.” She made him a formal bow, such as one might give a mere acquaintance.

  Henry didn’t know why he should feel as though he’d been slapped. This was what they had planned. This was the way it was supposed to happen. He was free now. He could walk away, and he’d never have to see the Duke of Vauxhall again. The prince’s celebrations would go on as planned, and he could take all the credit and glory for both the grandeur and the economy.

  It was what he’d always wanted, wasn’t it? It was the safest course.

  Henry made his way out of the tent, feeling safer than he had in days.

  And hating it.