Scoundrel Ever After (Secrets and Scandals)

by Darcy Burke

  The three magistrates were seated at the table. The one in the center, a portly fellow with a ruddy complexion scrutinized Ethan. “Ethan Jagger?”

  “Ethan Lockwood, your worship” Jason answered.

  Ethan grabbed the railing in front of him for support. So much for suppressing emotion. His knees nearly buckled from Jason’s declaration. He looked down at Jason, but his brother was glaring at the magistrates. Glaring. Ethan nearly smiled at how good that felt.

  “Indeed?” the magistrate asked, while the one to the left scribbled a note. “Teague, is this the correct man?”

  Teague sent Ethan a harassed look. “Yes, he is. He has several aliases, your worship.”

  The magistrate nodded. “We’ll address him as Mr. Lockwood then. Mr. Lockwood, you are charged with murdering the Marquess of Wolverton.”

  “I am not guilty of that crime,” Ethan said. Harworth elbowed him discreetly and he added, “Your worship.”

  The magistrate on the right cleared his throat. “Mr. Teague, you have evidence to present?”

  “I do. I witnessed Mr. Jagger, pardon, Mr. Lockwood, standing over the marquess’s body holding the knife used to stab him to his death.” Teague glanced at Jason. “Lord Lockwood witnessed the same scene.”

  The magistrate turned his attention to Jason. “Is this true?”

  “Yes, your worship,” Jason said coldly. “However, I did not witness him stabbing Wolverton. He merely picked up the knife.” He glowered at Teague. “Mr. Teague didn’t witness the murder, either.”

  “Is this true, Teague?” the magistrate in the middle asked.

  “It is, but Mr. Jagger, pardon, Mr. Lockwood, is a known criminal. He claims Gin Jimmy, a crime lord of some fame, committed the murder, but I believe they worked in tandem. I know they were cohorts. Your worship, I have other evidence that ties Mr. Lockwood to the murder of Lady Aldridge.”

  The magistrate’s dark brows—at odds with his gray hair—rose. “Are you charging him with that today also?”

  Teague grimaced, and the flesh around his mouth paled. “Unfortunately, no. The primary witness has gone missing.”

  That would’ve been Oak. What had happened to him?

  The magistrate on the right grunted, while the one on the left wrote more notes. The magistrate in the center turned his attention to Lord Carlyle. “Lord Carlyle, what are you doing here today?”

  “I came to hear the evidence, your worship. It is my belief that Gin Jimmy committed the murder of Wolverton, as well as the murder of Lord Lockwood’s footman, without the assistance of Mr. Lockwood.”

  Teague gestured to the magistrate’s table. “That knife is the weapon Mr. Lockwood was holding over Wolverton’s corpse. Upon inspection, you will see it is inscribed with a J.” Teague turned his head and smirked at Ethan. “For Jagger.”

  Ethan sneered. “It’s for Jimmy, you half-wit.”

  Mr. Harworth touched Ethan’s arm briefly before addressing the magistrates. “The inscription on the knife is not conclusive evidence that it belongs to Mr. Lockwood.”

  The center magistrate picked up the weapon and examined it. “Is this your knife, Mr. Jagger?” That he’d reverted to Ethan’s criminal name tensed Ethan’s muscles. He didn’t dare correct him and was relieved when no one else did either. He wanted to be recognized as a Lockwood, but he wanted his freedom more.

  “No, your worship.”

  “And you didn’t use it to kill Lord Wolverton?”

  “No, your worship.”

  The magistrate frowned. He exchanged glances with the other two magistrates, who were also frowning. They spoke to each other in low tones, their discussion impossible to hear from Ethan’s location.

  Ethan’s attention was drawn to the waiting area to the left as a pair of men made their way rather close to the dock. He recognized Sevrin, who was accompanied by his friend, the Earl of Saxton. Ethan looked for Audrey, who surely would be with him, but couldn’t find her in the crowd. He felt a moment’s relief—he wasn’t sure he wanted her to see him like this—but it was short-lived as he registered the lines around Sevrin’s mouth. Something was wrong.

  At last the magistrate in the center addressed the room. “As much as it pains me, Teague, I’m not sure you have quite enough to commit him to trial.”

  “I’m an eyewitness. Surely that should be enough.” Teague sounded desperate.

  Sevrin went up to the dock and whispered to Ethan and the barrister, “There’s a witness who saw the murder and will testify that it wasn’t Mr. Locke.”

  Mr. Harworth leaned down toward Sevrin. “Where is he?”

  Sevrin glanced at Ethan and the lines around his mouth deepened. “Unfortunately, she’s unavailable.”

  She.

  Ethan didn’t have to wonder who Sevrin referenced. He bit the side of his mouth to keep from exploding. What the hell had happened?

  Harworth frowned. “When will she be available?”

  Sevrin’s expression was pained. “That will depend. She’s an estimable member of Society. Will that help his cause?”

  “What are you discussing?” one of the magistrates asked in a booming voice.

  Harworth straightened. “We beg your pardon, your worships. We’re discussing another witness who is currently unavailable. She saw who committed the murder and will testify that it was not Mr. Lockwood.”

  The magistrate on the left made more notes while the one on the right asked, “Who is this witness?”

  “Miss Audrey Cheswick,” Sevrin answered. “Her grandfather is Lord Farringdon.”

  The magistrates exchanged looks again and then nods. The one on the right addressed Teague. “You don’t have enough to charge Mr. Lockwood with the murder of Wolverton, especially if this other, quite credible, witness is able to give testimony.” He looked up at Ethan. “Mr. Lockwood, you are free to go.”

  Mr. Harworth clapped Ethan on the shoulder and escorted him from the dock. Ethan was bursting with nervous energy about whatever had happened to Audrey.

  Jason and Carlyle came out of the well, followed by Teague, who paused only long enough to say, “I’ll find a way to see you hang.” Then he stormed from the courtroom.

  Ethan didn’t take even a moment’s respite to celebrate. He turned toward Sevrin. “Where’s Audrey?”

  Sevrin looked even more pained than he had in the dock. “I don’t know. She disappeared the morning after you left.”

  Ethan wanted to wrap his hands around Sevrin’s neck because he was the closest person he could punish. The earth was falling out from beneath him and he was going to tumble into a black abyss. “What the fuck do you mean by ‘disappeared’?”

  “She was just gone. No one saw her leave. It appeared she rose early—some of her clothing was gone—and went for a walk. There was a wrap by the door to the terrace and it’s missing, as if she went out that way and took the wrap with her. I think she went to the cliff side path. We searched, but there was no sign of her.”

  Jason wrapped his hand around Ethan’s elbow, the contact giving him a physical support he hadn’t realized he needed. “What do you think happened to her?”

  “Gin Jimmy.” Ethan’s insides hardened with resolve. Audrey wanted Ethan to be done with hurting people, but he was going to carve Jimmy’s heart out if he’d hurt her.

  “You think she’s here in London?” Carlyle asked. The four men were standing around Ethan now, each one watching him intently like he was some sort of caged animal on display as a curiosity. Others were watching him too, despite the fact that the court proceedings had continued at the other end of the room.

  “I can’t imagine she’d be anywhere else.” Unless they’d done something with her along the way. No, he wouldn’t let himself think that. Not yet. He turned to Sevrin and worked to keep the despair out of his voice. “You’re certain she didn’t fall or meet any other sort of disaster on the path?”

  Sevrin shook his head. “There was no sign of that.”

  Ethan ran his hand
through his hair and fought to rip it from his head. He wanted to tear the room apart, lash out at these men who were just standing there doing nothing.

  But what could they do?

  “I have to find her.” He moved toward the door, but Sevrin caught his arm.

  “Wait. Let us help you.”

  Ethan’s lip curled as he contemplated the four aristocrats. “How the hell are you lot going to help me?”

  Carlyle adjusted his cravat. “I’ll try not to be offended that you would think I couldn’t help you. After all, I owe you, and you know my contacts are equal to yours.”

  Ethan grunted. “I doubt that. But I take your point. Please find out whatever you can.”

  “Shall we reconvene at Lockwood House this afternoon?”

  Hours from now. “I can’t wait that long.” Ethan heard the anguish in his tone and wanted to shout his frustration.

  Jason probed him with an earnest stare. “Be smart, Ethan. You’ll be much better served with a plan. You seem to be the master of them.”

  He was referring to the plan Ethan had been orchestrating to take down Gin Jimmy in order to free himself and join Society. The plan Ethan had refused to share with his brother. He looked at Jason and their unspoken exchange was clear: Jason would help him, but Ethan had to trust him.

  Ethan forced himself to exhale and push some of the tension from his shoulders. “What do you propose?”

  Jason’s eyes flashed briefly with surprise. Then he too seemed to relax. “Let’s see what Carlyle learns.”

  “We’ll have to flush him out,” Ethan said, his mind working. He knew Gin Jimmy better than anyone. The man rarely left his comfortable rookery in the heart of the Seven Dials and he was untouchable there. If he’d taken Audrey—and Ethan absolutely believed he had—that was the only place he’d keep her. “I know where she is, but if I go in there, I’m dead.”

  “He’s laid a trap,” Sevrin said.

  “Then we’ll have to lay our own.” Saxton drew everyone’s attention. His pale blue gaze was cunning. “Lockwood—that’s bloody confusing.” He focused on Ethan to differentiate between the brothers. “If we can lure him away from her, will you have a chance or are you dead either way?”

  “I might have a chance,” Ethan said slowly. There were those who were loyal to Ethan, who would support the overthrow of Gin Jimmy, but they’d want Ethan to lead them instead. And Ethan wanted no part of that. “It depends on what Gin Jimmy’s told them in my absence. I don’t know how much allegiance I still command.”

  “I’ll find out,” Carlyle said, striding toward the door. “See you at Lockwood House. You can update me on the plan then.”

  “Carlyle,” Ethan called. The man paused and turned back. “Confirm that she’s there—the Cup and Burrow’s his place—that she’s safe.”

  Carlyle nodded and left before Ethan could say the most important thing of all: Thank you.

  “Did you have a specific trap in mind, Sax?” Sevrin asked.

  Saxton shrugged. “It seems like the one thing that could coax Jimmy out of his lair is the thing he wants most.”

  “Me.” Ethan shook his head. “I have to get into his stronghold.” Not only because he needed to be the one to save Audrey—and he needed to be that man—but because it was also imperative that he take Jimmy down for good. And that would require help, which he could only get by turning the men’s allegiance from Jimmy to him.

  Saxton lips spread in a shrewd smile. “Not you. The other Lockwood.” He inclined his head toward Jason. “Perhaps we can use your similarity in build and coloring to draw Jimmy out. Your scar, however, could be a problem.”

  Sevrin shook his head. “Not if we covered it. I got pretty good at disguising my injuries from the Black Horse.”

  “You tried,” Saxton said. “Let’s employ an expert. I’m certain Olivia can put her experience from the theater to good use. It won’t be perfect, but we should be able to mask the scar enough to fool people at a distance.” Saxton looked to Ethan. “Will that work?”

  “It could.” Ethan envisioned Jason dressed like him and situated in a dark corner of the Brazen Bride flanked by a few of Ethan’s men. It would sufficiently dupe anyone watching into thinking that Ethan was there, which would hopefully draw Jimmy out. Ethan decided he needed to weigh the odds and knew exactly what he could say to lure his former mentor from his den.

  The question was, could he bare himself to Jason? He wouldn’t have to, he reasoned. He could write a message that would bring Jimmy from his den without telling Jason what it said. He glanced at his brother. His brother. His neck tingled uncomfortably. No, the time for secrets had passed. It was time to trust and discover faith—if he could.

  “Let’s go to Lockwood House where we can sort this all out.” Jason slapped him on the shoulder in an exceedingly brotherly manner. “I’m not asking you to relax, but you can bathe, change your clothes, and have a glass of whisky. As my butler North would say, you need fortification.”

  No, what he needed was Audrey. If anything had happened to her . . . He wouldn’t be able to bear it. To have happiness within his grasp only to have it be torn away would kill him. But did he deserve anything else?

  AFTER A BRUTAL six-day journey that had seen her bounced around in a stolen cart, racing over hillsides on a stolen horse, and ushered into London in a rundown—and, yes, stolen—carriage, Audrey was simply glad to be still. Even though it meant she was locked in a windowless room in a flash house in St. Giles. She wasn’t sure what a flash house was, but it wasn’t good.

  The ground floor had been somewhat like a pub or tavern, but filled with a class of folk Audrey had never encountered. Men, women, children—all filthy and possibly drunk—had gaped and leered at her as Perkins and Bird had dragged her inside. A woman had taken her from them and brought her upstairs to the third floor, a warren of rooms from which came intermittent and disturbing sounds. Crying. Shouting. Darker sounds of a more . . . intimate nature.

  The woman, Mother Dean she’d called herself, had drafted two younger women to help Audrey. They’d set up a bath and brought her fresh clothes, though Audrey would’ve preferred to have her old clothing, wretched as it was after the nearly incessant travel. Her new costume didn’t fit properly. As with most gowns that weren’t tailored for her, this was too short and too tight in the bodice. It also revealed much more of her bosom than she’d ever exposed.

  The room she’d been placed in was small, little more than an alcove beneath the stairs leading to the uppermost floor. The now-tepid bath sat in the corner while Audrey perched on a wooden chair. One of the young women, Ellie, who’d helped her bathe and dress, was styling her hair, and the other had gone to fetch cosmetics.

  “I’d prefer not to apply anything to my face.” The gown was degrading enough.

  “It’s expected of the girls ’ere at the Cup and Burrow.” Ellie stuck pin after pin into Audrey’s hair. “How do ye manage these curls?”

  “It’s a bit of a trial. What do you mean the ‘girls’?” Audrey had a pretty good guess but asked anyway.

  “The Cup and Burrow’s a flash house. The cup is for the gin and the burrow’s for what’s between yer legs.”

  Audrey’s gut tightened with fear as her guess was affirmed. “How many girls are here?”

  Ellie jabbed a pin into Audrey’s hair, scratching her head. “Depends. As many as forty sometimes. We get new girls often, but not all of ’em work out.”

  “What happens to them?”

  “Out on their arse, unless there’s another need for ’em. I can usually tell who’ll wash out. I tend to ’em when they come in, like I’m doing for ye, if they need it. Most of ’em arrive lookin’ as they ought. Not like ye.” She stuck another pin into Audrey’s curls. “Ye won’t last a day.”

  Audrey suppressed a shudder. “I’m not one of the ‘girls.’” God, what if she were? No, she’d cling to the hope that Gin Jimmy was only using her as bait to get Ethan. “But if I were, what would happ
en to me next?”

  “Ye’ll be allowed to settle in for a day or so. And if ye’re smart, ye’ll drink a lot of gin to make things easier.” She laughed, which gave the room a subtle scent of the gin she spoke of. She gave a final pat to Audrey’s hair, then moved around in front of her. “Ye’ll do. After we get yer face done, I’ll take ye downstairs to the common room for somethin’ to eat.”

  The second woman came in. Beneath the kohl around her eyes and the unnatural shade of red on her lips, she looked far younger than Ellie, though Audrey suspected they were of a similar age.

  Ellie stared at the other young woman. “Nan, where’s yer cosmetics basket?”

  “I was told to bring ’er downstairs immediately. Mother Dean wants to see you, Ellie.”

  Ellie went to the door and paused, looking back at Audrey. “Remember what I said about the gin.” She gave Ellie a knowing smile and quit the room, leaving laughter in her wake.

  Audrey got up from the chair, her legs trembling. “Where are you taking me? I’m not one of the . . . girls.”

  Nan smiled softly. “I know. I’m taking you to Gin Jimmy. Is it true you’re Jagger’s woman?”

  Though the label was somewhat crude, it gave Audrey a silly thrill. “Yes. You know him?”

  The young woman’s smile turned shy as she nodded. She suddenly looked quite young. “I’m not one of the ‘girls’ either, and I have Jagger to thank. I came ’ere to be one. I didn’t have no money and there was nothin’ left to sell. It was starve or come ’ere. I was lucky that ’e was in the common room that first night. ’E could tell I didn’t want to be ’ere. I kept refusin’ the gin.”

  Audrey was desperate to hear why she was grateful to Ethan. “What did he do?”

  “’E told Mother Dean I’d make a good maid. They were short one at the time. It was just a few months ago.”

  “And you haven’t had to sell yourself?”

  Nan shook her head almost violently, then suddenly took Audrey’s hand. “It’s terrible what’s goin’ to happen to Jagger. I wish there was somethin’ I could do.”