Challenging A Rake (A Rake's Redemption Book 4)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Lord Warwick slowly pulled the back door open and poked his head out, scanning her yard before opening the door all the way and pulling her outside into the dark night.

  “We will get a cab a few blocks over,” he whispered. “No need for anyone to associate us with this address.”

  She nodded, he knew every trick she realized. How long had he done this kind of work? What must it be like to always be on your guard? Never able to relax. Constantly transitioning between two worlds.

  The two of them hurried down the path to the back gate. Or at least as fast as Lord Warwick’s limp would allow them. Hand in hand. Then into the alley. A quarter moon gave them just enough light to see faint obstacles.

  London had started introducing coal gas lamps in some of the areas. But on the main streets only. The back alleys had remained as dark as pitch.

  Amanda had never been out in such darkness. Most homes hung lanterns in the front of the house. Giving the street enough light. But here, back in the alleys. It was cast in darkness. A shiver ran down her back as she realized just how dark it was. They could be attacked without warning from any of a dozen pockets of blackness.

  Lord Warwick gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and led her down the alley. The tap of his cane echoing off the brick walls. Then, across a street and into another alley. The man seemed to move as if he were in his own living room.

  Once they were safely away, he flagged a cab. The driver pulled to stop and frowned down at them as if asking how two such people, obviously of the lower class, could possibly afford a cab.

  Lord Warwick tossed up a silver coin. The driver caught it mid-air and nodded. Warwick gave him an address and opened the door to hand her up.

  Amanda climbed up and scooted across to give him room. He climbed up after her. She smiled to herself as she saw how well he was moving.

  “You are recovering quickly,” she said to him as she moved her dress out of the way for him to sit.

  “I had a good nurse,” he replied as he settled down next to her, his leg resting against hers.

  A warm sensation settled over her. The scent of sandalwood and leather engulfed her, making her want to sink into him and never come out. Sighing heavily, she slipped her arm into his and leaned against him for a moment.

  “I missed you,” she said before she could stop herself.

  He laughed. “You missed having someone to boss around. Admit it.”

  She laughed with him, “Perhaps.”

  The cabbie flicked his whip and the horse started off, the heavy clop of its hoofs clacking against the cobblestones.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why did you come for me?” The question had been bothering her since his arrival.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “It just seemed the right thing. It shouldn’t be dangerous. Liverpool has had the house under guard. If anyone is watching, we will be two workers entering. Probably to clean up the mess.

  “At this time of night?”

  He shrugged again.

  She settled back and thought about what was happening. Lord Warwick had come to her for help. Could any woman be luckier than herself?

  Chapter Fourteen

  When the cab pulled to a stop, Amanda watched as Warwick gingerly made his way down then held out a hand for her. Amanda stepped down and examined her surroundings. A typical London neighborhood. Brown brick buildings lined up next to each other.

  Turning quickly she confirmed that the streets were empty.

  Warwick took her arm and led her up the steps. He knocked and the door opened almost immediately. A sour looking older man with a wisp of gray hair stared at them. She frowned to herself. He didn’t look as if he could guard a henhouse, let alone a critical location such as this.

  “Liverpool sent me,” Lord Warwick told the man.

  The old man stepped back and opened the door.

  A long hall greeted them with doors leading to the right and stairs leading up on the left. Several candles were burning in their sconces making the house rather bright for this time of the evening. The old man must have been nervous about staying in a house where a man had so recently taken his own life.

  “Up on the left,” the man said. “The body’s taken. The filchers have probably gotten him by now.”

  Amanda shuddered at the thought of grave robbers digging up the body.

  “You can leave,” Warwick told him.

  The old man nodded and left without another word.

  Amanda glanced up the stairs as a cold chill ran down her spine making her shiver.

  Lord Warwick started up the stairs, just assuming she would follow. She could see a set grimace on his face as he focused on his task. He is moving better, but there was still pain with each step.

  “What are we going to look for?” she asked as she followed him up.

  He shrugged his wide shoulders. “We’ll know it when we see it. That’s one of the reasons I brought you along. You don’t miss much.”

  She smiled behind his back. The man always knew the perfect thing to say.

  When they reached the room, Lord Warwick paused for a second. Shooting her a quick glance as if asking if she was ready.

  She nodded.

  He opened the door, holding the candle up to light their way.

  The first thing she noticed was a large brown stain on the pillows. Blood, she realized with a shudder. A lot of it. Her insides squeezed tight as a sense of dread washed over her. A man had taken his own life in that bed. The ultimate sin. What had he been like? What could drive a person to take such a radical irreversible action?

  Lord Warwick frowned. “Who kills himself while lying in bed? He would have had to go down to his study. Load his pistol and then return here and lay down in his bed. Under his covers no less?”

  Amanda studied the bed. “Maybe the covers were mussed when they removed the body.”

  “Not that much.”

  She slowly turned and examined the room. A large bed with a heavy headboard. Two side tables. A dresser and a tall armoire in the corner. Lord Warwick bent over to examine the bed while she turned and opened the armoire. Typical men’s clothing. A couple of red uniforms, black frock coats.

  “Did he have servants?” she asked.

  “I shouldn’t think so. Not with his debts.”

  Her mind drifted as she examined the clothing. Nothing of any significance. Nothing that would point to anything about French spies.

  Taking a deep breath, she started going through the pockets. She remembered how her father would forget things. Half the time he would find them weeks later in the pockets of a jacket.

  Nothing. Sighing, she turned and started on the dresser.

  The man had been neat. A typical soldier, she imagined. Everything organized. Folded and put away in its proper place. Lord Warwick began removing drawers from the side tables. Holding them up to examine the bottoms. He shot her a quick grin, obviously letting her know that he had learned from her discovery.

  The top dresser drawers offered up no clues.

  “How sure are you that he is one of the names?” she asked.

  He frowned. “Relatively sure. Besides what Lord Liverpool passed along. The man was seen entering Lord Hicks home several times. I’ve had a man keeping an eye on the place for a year now. Not enough to take to trial. But my gut tells me he was involved up to his neck.”

  Amanda nodded as she pulled out the bottom drawer of the dresser. She ran her hands through the clothing. But again nothing. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the drawer all the way out and examined inside the furniture.

  Reaching down, she slid her hand along the edge until it came in touch with a cold metallic object. Pulling it out, she smiled to herself as she examined a small tin box. Holding it up, she caught Lord Warwick’s attention. Opening it in front of him, she tipped it up and let a small key fall out into her hand.

  “Interesting,” Lord Warwick said as he examined it closely then placed it into his coat pocket. “Let us hope we
can find where it goes.”

  The two of them continued on with their search but found nothing incriminating.

  “The study?” he asked.

  She turned and examined the room one last time before nodding. A cold chill traveled down her spine. The sooner she could be out of this room the better. While she didn’t know if she believed in ghosts or spirits. It wasn’t very logical after all. Yet, she was also opened minded enough not to dismiss them out of hand. If there were such things. That room would surely hold one.

  Once they were downstairs, she was able to breathe a little easier. Quickly dismissing such silly thoughts, she glanced over at Lord Warwick. She was not surprised to see that the man showed no such worries. To him, the bedroom had been just another room.

  No, nothing would ever cause him to fear the unknown.

  Sir Barclay’s study was as she expected. A desk and chair. A long leather couch, only one bookshelf. Again, a soldier she reminded herself. A life on the move did not encourage the keeping of books.

  Warwick shook his head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “His pistol box,” he said indicating the wooden box on the corner of his desk. She picked it up and examined it. Just like her father’s. inlaid with a velvet cushion for the pistol. A small powder horn, ramrod, and four pistol balls were placed in each of their compartments. One round hole was empty.

  “What about it?” she asked.

  Lord Warwick frowned. “He comes down here. Loads his pistol, puts things back in their compartments, but then leaves the box laying open on his desk. It doesn’t add up.”

  “You think someone killed him.”

  He bit his lip and nodded. “Probably. They wanted to make it look like he did it himself.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t such a death bring attention to him?”

  Lord Warwick shook his head as he continued to stare down at the empty pistol box. “Not if they thought we weren’t on to him.”

  “Or they thought you were dead,” she said. “And with your death, any evidence you might have gathered would be gone.”

  “Perhaps,” he said as he sat down behind the desk and started to pull out drawers. “Interesting,” he said slowly as he pulled out the bottom drawer to the desk and held it up for her to see.

  “Someone has forced the lock,” Amanda said as she examined the twisted bit of lock face.

  “How much do you want to bet that the key you found fit this lock.”

  Amanda nodded as her mind whirled. So many questions and so little information.

  “I have a feeling he was threatening Hicks.” Lord Warwick said. “Threatening to expose him,” Lord Warwick said as he stared off into space. “Maybe they killed him because they couldn’t find what they were looking for.”

  Amanda frowned. “How could he expose him. Would the authorities have believed him and wouldn’t there be a risk of him being sent to the gallows along with Lord Hicks.”

  Lord Warwick shrugged. “Not if he had some evidence. Something he could pass along without it leading back to him.”

  “That was what they were looking for. In the drawer.”

  “Perhaps. Of course, this is all conjecture until we find it. If it is still here.”

  Amanda nodded as she turned and examined the room. Where would she hide evidence from prying eyes? Thinking back to her time in Lord Hicks study, she smiled to herself. Reaching up she pulled the first book off the top shelf and opened it upside down, giving it a good shake.

  Nothing fell out. Of course not, she thought, that would be too easy. Taking up the next book she repeated herself. Slowly working her way through the man’s library.

  While she worked, Lord Warwick limped from spot to spot as he ran his hands over the entire room looking for secret compartments. He is so tall and so handsome, she thought to herself as her insides turned over. And I am so in love with him.

  The hurt she knew she would face once again threatened to overwhelm her.

  No, she thought. He had asked her to help. Not to moon over him like a lovesick calf.

  Sighing heavily, she forced herself to focus on her task. Her hopes were starting to falter when she opened one more book to have something fall out and flitter to the ground. Both she and Warwick froze for a moment.

  Retrieving the slip of paper from the ground she moved to a candle to examine it. A piece of paper folded in half longways. Warwick joined her, his cane ticking on the hardwood floor.

  “It’s a list,” she said.

  - Plans

  - Shipping schedules - -Destinations

  - Troop Movements

  - Armament production

  - Fortress. - - Maps-

  - Other sources

  Lord Warwick read over her shoulder then took the paper from her hands, opened it fully and turned it over.

  “Ha,” he barked. “The man is a fool.”

  “Barclay?” she asked.

  Warwick shook his head as he smiled. Twisting the paper he showed her. “Lord Hicks stationary.”

  Amanda gasped then turned it back to study the handwriting. “I believe it is the same hand as the list I found. The F’s are the same.”

  Lord Warwick nodded. “The man does like to make lists. I wonder if he even knew he had written on the back of his own stationary.”

  “Is this it? Is this enough for you to move against him.”

  Lord Warwick sighed heavily and shook his head. “No. He would just claim it as a forgery. Someone trying to sow discord against his family. With his father’s connections, it would be enough to get him off. No, but it is another nail in the man’s coffin.”

  Amanda looked up to see an anger in Warwick’s eyes that made her shiver. The man looked like a wolf on the prowl and the prey was getting closer.

  “This, however, is why Barclay was killed. I know it in my bones. This list along with Barclay’s testimony would have sent Hicks to the gallows for sure. Perhaps Barclay thought he could trade it for leniency. Or at least threatened Hicks with it.”

  Amanda nodded as she studied the room one last time.

  “Come,” Warwick said as he took her arm. “I need to get you home.”

  Her heart fell. Once again he would disappear back into his world of intrigue and shadows. A deep sorrow settled in the bottom of her stomach. She would lose him. He would evaporate back into his world and she would never obtain what she wanted. What her body demanded.

  Sighing, she let him lead her out the back and again down a dark alley until they found a cab. He gave an address a few blocks from her home.

  As they made their way back to her house she watched him closely. He was still walking with a limp. Would he have it always she wondered. And his shoulder? It had worked well enough. But when she held his arm she did not feel the strength she remembers.

  “Has anyone checked your wounds?” she asked as he walked her up the steps to her back door.

  He frowned at her, obviously confused by her question. “No, I didn’t want anyone knowing I had returned. Only my servants know and they will remain silent. I could not be so sure of our family doctor. The man likes to share our family secrets. But mother is adamant.

  “If an infection returns you could be brought low again,” she said as she bit her lip. “The doctor said you need to be careful.”

  He looked down at her for a long moment then silently opened the door, holding it wide for her to enter. Amanda held her breath as she passed by him. Would he follow? Did he know what she planned?

  He watched her for a long moment, hesitated, as if fighting with himself, then slowly stepped into the kitchen and closed the door.

  Her heart tumbled over itself. It was time. Finally.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lord Warwick’s stomach tightened up into a small ball as he looked down at Amanda. She was so beautiful. Everything about the woman was special.

  She smiled back up at him then turned and led him upstairs. He watched her hips swish back and forth, his need growin
g with each step.

  Careful, he told himself. Amanda is special, he must never hurt her. But the desire burning through him threatened to make him forget.

  “In here,” she said indicating his old room. “My nursing supplies are still there.”

  He nodded as he entered the room then turned to face her.

  She stopped for a moment, looking up at him, her eyes searching his, asking some unfathomable question that he couldn’t begin to understand.

  “Here,” she said as she reached up to help him take his coat off. “Do you need help with your shirt?”

  He laughed and shook his head. Any other time and he would have taken that for an invitation to remove more than his shirt. Reaching back, he pulled his shirt over his head. His shoulder twinged a little but he bit down on the pain and focused on the angel in front of him.

  She swallowed hard as her eyes traveled over his broad chest. At last, she took a deep breath and said, “Sit on the bed. You’re too tall, I can’t reach it.”

  He studied her for a moment. The need in her eyes told him so much. Let her lead the way, he thought. This could go so many different ways. Let her lead. At least at first. Once he knew her mind. Then, and only then would he take over.

  .o0o.

  Amanda’s heart raced as she stepped forward and gently touched his shoulder. The man was as solid as a rock. Hard muscles, broad chest, wide shoulders. And those eyes. As if they could see into her very soul.

  Everything about him let the world know that he was a male. A big powerful male that could shake her world with a simple look. Her body hummed with need. A need to touch. A need to take.

  Swallowing hard, she pulled her eyes away from his to examine the wound.

  It was still a little red around the edges, raw but no serious infection. Her insides relaxed just a little. She had been so worried. But the man’s constitution matched his size and strength. He was almost indestructible, she thought.

  “It looks like it is healing. Can you lift your arm so I can check the movement.”

  He slowly lifted his arm, swinging it in a long circle. Her hands manipulated the joint searching for any scraping or dragging. But it seemed to be working well, just tender.