The Scoundrel Takes a Bride: A Regency Rogues Novel

by Stefanie Sloane

  “Mr. Singh, is that you? Have you found him, then?” The cook’s voice carried clearly up the servants’ stairs, followed shortly by the woman herself. “Oh, beg your pardon, Mr. Bourne. I thought perhaps Mr. Singh had some news of Mouse.”

  Nicholas did not want to believe that the boy was actually missing. A game of hide-and-seek was far less threatening, and did not twist at his gut the way—

  God, if the Bishop had him … That would mean Nicholas had tipped his hand at the benefit. It would be his fault if anything happened to Mouse. And if the Bishop knew that the boy was connected to him, then he surely had figured out Sophia’s involvement as well.

  It was time to call in assistance.

  “Mrs. Clark, gather Molly and Edwin, please, and meet me in the front drawing room in five minutes.” His words were grim, clipped with command.

  Mrs. Clark nodded her head quickly and disappeared back down the stairs.

  “And what would you have me do, sahib?” Singh asked.

  Nicholas rummaged in his vest pocket and pulled out a number of bills, handing them to his friend. “I want you to go and collect Lady Sophia and her companion. Tell them they must return with you to the Albany at once—and do not take no for an answer, Singh. Tell the driver to take you to Number Five Balfour Place, in Mayfair.”

  Singh embraced Nicholas, hugging him tightly. “I will not disappoint you, sahib.”

  Before Nicholas could respond, Singh turned on his heels and ran down the hall, the thud of the door opening loud in the still apartment.

  Nicholas stared at the wall, wondering if they’d failed Mouse. He felt sure there was nothing they could have done differently, short of imprisoning the boy, which would have made no sense.

  There was nothing they could have done differently.

  They. Nicholas had included himself in the pardon.

  “Goddammit, Singh,” he said out loud, fighting a surprising and unwelcome swell of emotion. “You’ve managed to teach me to be kind—and to myself, of all people.”

  Nicholas leaned against the wall, his legs suddenly weak. He was scared for Mouse. Thankful for Singh’s presence. And humbled by Sophia’s love. All of his life, he’d run from emotional entanglements, certain such things would lead to his undoing. And at that very moment, he proved himself right. He was undone. Anxious and angry, in love and loved.

  And he was still alive. Nicholas beat his fist against the wall and bowed his head. He was more than still alive. He’d been reborn.

  Footfalls on the stairs signaled the servants coming up for the meeting.

  Nicholas pushed off from the wall and ran both hands through his hair, the tingling of his scalp clearing his mind.

  “We’ll find the dear boy,” Mrs. Clark said to Nicholas as she passed him on the way to the drawing room. “Don’t you worry one bit.”

  “You are absolutely right, Mrs. Clark,” Nicholas replied, following behind her. “We will find Mouse and bring him home.”

  “Oh yes, we will,” a voice chimed in behind Nicholas. “And the bloke responsible for this will pay harshly!”

  Nicholas had formed a family of sorts. “Goddammit, Singh,” he said out loud, “you bloody, blessed man.”

  28

  June 18

  Sophia stood on the threshold of the front parlor in Nicholas’s apartment. Singh gestured for her to enter. She hesitated, the gathering of men and the push and pull of their serious conversation foreboding.

  “Mr. Singh,” Sophia began, stepping tentatively into the room, “are you at liberty to explain yourself now?”

  Nicholas rose from the sofa, where he had been deep in conversation with a young man whom Sophia vaguely recognized. “Sophia, Mrs. Kirk, thank you for coming. I apologize for the early hour.”

  “Please, will you tell me what this is all about?” Sophia asked as she hurried toward Nicholas. “Mr. Singh gave us very little information.”

  Nicholas took her arm. “Come with me.”

  “Of course,” she replied, her nerves hardly soothed by his serious demeanor.

  Lettie moved to follow her. “No, I will speak with Mr. Bourne—alone,” Sophia told her.

  Lettie nodded soberly and looked about the roomful of men. “I’ll make tea, then.”

  “None for me, thank you,” Sophia replied, smiling assuredly at her dear friend. “I will come and find you in the kitchen when Mr. Bourne and I have finished.”

  She allowed Nicholas to steer her through the gathering. “I am growing impatient.”

  “I understand, Sophia,” Nicholas said, heading for the back of the house.

  Yet another man, his identity unknown to Sophia, blocked the closed study door.

  “I really must demand an explanation now,” Sophia whispered, her fingers tightening on Nicholas’s arm as they stopped in front of the stranger.

  “Lady Sophia,” Nicholas told him.

  The other man remained silent; the only discernible sign he’d heard Nicholas was a slight nod.

  Nicholas released Sophia’s arm as the man reached behind him, opened the study door, and stepped aside.

  “Sophia.” Langdon looked up from his seat behind Nicholas’s desk, his voice as stern as the look in his eyes. “Please come in. You too, Nicholas.”

  Langdon gestured for her to take one of two leather chairs situated in front of the desk.

  “Langdon?” Surprised and confused, Sophia braced herself momentarily against the supple leather before sitting. “What is going on?”

  Nicholas dropped into the chair next to her, his face as grim as his brother’s. “Mouse has disappeared and we believe he’s been taken by the Bishop. I thought it best for you to be brought here—for your own safety.”

  Sophia’s heart missed a beat. She was terrified for Mouse and startled by Nicholas’s decision to tell his brother about the case—so much so that when she opened her mouth to reply, nothing came out.

  “Langdon knows, Sophia,” Nicholas added. “I’ve told him all that we know about the Bishop. When we discovered Mouse was gone, I knew that even with all of my connections, I could not fight the Bishop on my own. I needed the Young Corinthians—we needed them.”

  “You told the Corinthians, without consulting me?” Sophia whispered, angered and hurt.

  Langdon thumped his fist upon the desktop. “And you went after your mother’s killer without consulting me, Sophia. It seems you are both at fault.”

  Sophia started at Langdon’s unexpected show of emotion. “I am sorry. I truly am. But if I had told you what Dash and Nicholas had discovered when they caught Mr. Smeade, would you have allowed me to be involved in the search?”

  “Of course not!” Langdon shouted, slamming his fist against the desk a second time. “And do you know why? Because of where we are now. One boy missing, your life in danger, my brother’s life in danger …”

  Sophia watched Langdon pause and take a deep breath. She had never heard him raise his voice. “I never meant for it to turn out this way, Langdon. You must believe me.”

  “Whether I do or do not is hardly the concern now. You’ve embroiled yourself in a deadly game. And the Bishop is an expert chess player, Sophia. Some might even say the best.”

  Sophia looked at him for an explanation.

  “The Corinthians have known of the Bishop and his involvement in the Kingsmen gang for years.” Langdon picked up a document from one of the piles spread out before him. “It was only recently that his identity as a magistrate was brought to light. Corruption is widespread within the magistrates, and we’ve not managed to find one who would give up the rest. We’d hoped to convince the Bishop to cooperate by threatening his gang.

  “There are many channels of business that a gang such as the Kingsmen must rely on to keep turning a profit, including syndicates on the Continent. If the Bishop did not agree to help us, we were going to reduce the channels available to him until he saw the error of his ways.”

  “You were going to blackmail him?” Sophia a
sked, beginning to understand the ramifications.

  Langdon nodded. “That was the plan. Your Mr. Bean was told to stand down. We had an agent in place, prepared to approach the Bishop. And then I heard from Nicholas.”

  “Do not be angry. We were only doing what you would have done in the same situation,” Nicholas told his brother.

  Langdon stared hard at Nicholas, his thinly veiled frustration obvious. “You’ve endangered Sophia, brother. I believe that gives me the right to be angry.”

  “Her safekeeping was always my top priority,” Nicholas replied. “Surely you must know this.”

  “Frankly, I believe I don’t know anything about you.”

  “Enough,” Sophia said. “There will be time to discuss such matters after Mouse is found. Langdon, has our investigation ruined all hope of you apprehending the Bishop? Or is there something that can be done?”

  Langdon looked at the papers he still held in his hand. “As for Mouse, yes, I believe there is something yet that we can do for the boy.”

  “And capturing the Bishop?”

  “You will not be involved in his apprehension,” Langdon said, his voice hard. “Do you understand? I will have your word.”

  Sophia looked at Nicholas. “Don’t let him do this. Tell him he is wrong,” she begged.

  “He’s not wrong, Sophia,” Nicholas answered. “We are not spies, you and I. Hell, he’ll most likely regret allowing me to accompany the Corinthians.”

  She wanted to argue; wanted to tell both men that they could not do such a thing.

  But it was a lie. The two loved her. And Sophia could not argue with love.

  “Can she at least see him when he’s brought in?” Nicholas asked on her behalf.

  Langdon looked at Sophia, reluctant understanding in his eyes. “Once he is safely behind bars, you will have the opportunity to voice everything you’ve ever wanted to tell the Bishop. Is that enough?”

  “It will have to be,” Sophia replied.

  Covent Garden

  Nicholas’s mount spooked at a drunken reveler, dancing nervously sideways. He tightened Guinevere’s reins and murmured gently to the mare, settling her. “Despite Mouse’s connection to the Bishop, he had no clue where his headquarters were. We searched his secret warehouse for a clue to the location, to no avail. How did you find it?”

  He and Langdon had ridden through the backstreets of London to Drury Lane. A host of Young Corinthian agents did the same, coming in twos and fours from wherever it was that spies came from.

  Langdon pointed down Blackmore Street and turned his horse. “It was not easy. Members of the Kingsmen gang are not eager to give up information concerning the Bishop. And he prefers to stay unpredictable. The man spends no more than a night holed up in one of his establishments before moving to another. Luckily, we finally found a member of the Kingsmen who valued his life more than his boss’s.”

  “You threatened injury?” Nicholas asked. He’d learned enough details of his brother’s secret life that evening to make him wonder what more could be lurking behind Langdon’s calm façade. He hoped there was much more; it made him less perfect—and far more like Nicholas.

  “No, Nicholas. We are not in the business of killing,” Langdon answered, clearly disappointed that the thought had entered his brother’s mind.

  Nicholas shrugged his shoulders. “Rather less exciting than I’d hoped.”

  Langdon smiled for the first time that night. “Well, most of it is, and this informant was no exception. He had quite a history with the Runners, including burglary, assault, even murder—though there was not enough proof to charge him on that count. Still, when the Corinthians were brought in to interrogate him, he cracked. Gave us the location of the Bishop’s headquarters as long as we kept him off a ship bound for New South Wales.”

  “So you let him go?” Nicholas pressed, trying to see the honor in such an act.

  Langdon’s horse tossed his head. “It’s a balancing act, Nicholas,” his brother told him, patting the horse on the neck. “As you should well know, nothing in life is ever all right or all wrong. There are the gray spaces in between, where one has to figure out for themself the best course of action that will lead to the most positive outcome.”

  “Sounds tricky,” Nicholas replied, mindful of the parallels between the situation Langdon referred to and his relationship with Sophia.

  Langdon nodded. “You have no idea just how tricky. The Corinthians test me as a man on every level. It makes me a better person—and, eventually, will make me a better husband to Sophia.”

  Nicholas had never known his brother to be anything but honest and forthright. So was he imagining the subtle comments and references? Or was Langdon implying that he suspected something between his fiancée and his brother?

  If the evening had revealed anything to Nicholas, it was that he did not know Langdon nearly as well as he’d always believed.

  He looked at his brother and waited for him to do the same before speaking. “Is that right?”

  “Of course,” Langdon answered, no detectable emotion on his face. “I imagine that in every marriage there are times when the other does something you thought could never be forgiven. My work with the Corinthians has taught me to think before acting, to consider all of the information, including the effects the issue will have on others.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” Nicholas asked, hardly able to stand his and Sophia’s secret any longer. “Because if you are, I wish that you would simply spit it out rather than wrapping it in—”

  Langdon raised a finger to his lips. Two men on horseback appeared in the roadway. They came slowly toward the brothers, prompting Nicholas to reach for the knife tucked into his boot.

  “My lord, the men are in place,” the man on the dappled gray reported to Langdon.

  Nicholas loosened his grip on the knife. “Are we close?”

  They’d been riding the back alleys of Drury Lane for nearly the entire length of the theatre district, leaving Nicholas to wonder where they were going.

  “The Bishop owns the Gloriana Theatre. According to our man, he will be there. It is the last building on the Lane,” Langdon answered. He clucked his horse into a walk and gestured for the men to follow.

  “Bloody hell,” Nicholas murmured, unsure of whether he should be thankful that he and Sophia had not encountered the Bishop when they’d visited the theatre, or angry that they had come so close and still not discovered him there.

  “What was that?” Langdon asked.

  Nicholas brought his horse even with his brother’s. “Nothing. Now, what is the plan?” he asked, genuinely curious … and thankful for the distraction.

  One of the Corinthians cleared his throat. “Sir, do you think it’s a wise decision to allow Mr. Bourne inside the theatre? The Bishop is never without at least two of his men, and there is the cast and crew to take into consideration as well.”

  “Cast and crew?” Nicholas repeated, confused.

  “There is a dress rehearsal for the troupe’s upcoming play tonight,” Langdon explained. “Hopefully, the hour is late enough—or early enough, as is the case—that they have finished and are gone by now. If not, then yes, there will be the cast and crew to contend with—though I highly doubt any of them will stand with the Bishop. We have no proof that anyone connected to the theatre knows anything more of the man than that he is a magistrate.”

  Nicholas pictured the interior of the theatre as well as the back of the stage. There were many places to hide a young boy, especially given the added benefit of a busy rehearsal.

  “As to your question, Damon,” Langdon continued, turning his head to look at the young man. “My brother, with very little help, managed to track down two of the most vile men to walk the earth. And while it was necessary for him to ask for our help, that only proves to me that he is smart, as well as capable. So yes, I do think it’s a wise decision—and one that I will stand by should any other choose to foolishly ask.”
/>
  Damon cleared his throat, but wisely followed up with silence rather than words.

  “Here we are,” Langdon announced, pointing to a hitching post outside a darkened butcher shop. “Leave the horses. We will walk the rest of the way.”

  The men halted their mounts in a line, each dismounting with silent ease.

  “How will we get inside?” Nicholas asked, looping his leather reins about the post.

  Langdon finished tethering his horse and pulled a pocket watch from his vest. “Do you recall Topper, the man who gave us the Bishop’s whereabouts?”

  Nicholas nodded as he completed the knot.

  “He should be waiting for us at the back door of the theatre,” Langdon offered, returning the watch to his pocket. “The Bishop knows nothing of your ties to the Corinthians. So, with any luck, he believes that only you will be coming for Mouse—he won’t expect an entire unit of trained spies.”

  “I’m afraid luck is not often on my side, brother,” Nicholas answered dryly, the weight of Mouse’s welfare heavy on his shoulders.

  The two Corinthians stepped back from their horses and Langdon gestured for them to fall into line. “Not to worry. It is always on mine.”

  29

  The Gloriana Theatre

  DRURY LANE

  He did not enjoy Romeo and Juliet, the Bishop reflected as he examined a playbill for the upcoming production. Never had, and most likely never would. He wondered if Shakespeare’s plays were often performed in America—a question he planned on soon being able to answer for himself.

  He looked at Mouse, who sat across from him in the tidy theatre office on Drury Lane. The boy’s feet dangled from the high seat of the battered wood chair as he fidgeted with his hands.

  “Do you know, Mouse, in America there is plenty of opportunity for all—even a young boy such as yourself.”

  Mouse looked at the Bishop as if he’d spoken in Latin. “What do I care about America? There’s Indians there who cut off your scalp and wear it like a prize. And that’s only if you make it across the ocean—which most do not.”