by Darcy Burke
Jimmy studied him intently. “The prizefighter made ye want to turn against me?”
“I never would’ve turned against you if you would’ve let me go.” When Jimmy had ordered him to take up his identity as Jason’s half-brother to keep an eye on Lady Aldridge and Wolverton, Ethan had suggested he might not want to return to thievery after that. Jimmy had thought he was jesting. He’d laughed, but there’d been a sharpness to his response that Ethan had interpreted as a warning: Ethan had better be joking about such nonsense for his defection would never be tolerated.
Jimmy leaned back and crossed his ankles. “Ye didn’t ask.”
Ethan barked a laugh. “Christ, Jimmy, you’re the most brutal man in London. You don’t suffer anything you perceive as betrayal.” He leaned as far forward as the chain would allow and narrowed his eyes. “Tell me right now that you would’ve allowed me to live my life if I’d never come back to you.” Ethan watched Jimmy’s mouth purse, his chest rise and fall. Ethan settled back against the wall, his lip curling. “I didn’t think so.”
Jimmy shot forward in his chair. “Aye, that’s betrayal. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. I knew I couldn’t trust ye with everything. Ye fancied yerself better than a number of my operations.” His expression turned pained, making him look like what he was—a fifty-year-old man who’d lived a rough life. “Ye were my greatest hope, and my biggest disappointment.”
Though Ethan didn’t want to be the things Jimmy wanted, his criticism still stung. “You’ve chained me up like so many others. Do you have a spectacle planned?”
Ethan thought of the countless times Jimmy had shackled some poor soul to the wall because of an offense—real or otherwise—though he’d never remained long enough to see what had happened. He’d been disgusted by the pleasure some took at another’s degradation. He understood they existed in a brutal world, but there was no need to glorify it. On the contrary, it was nice to find moments when he could imagine things were different, but then he supposed that’s why he’d wanted to leave.
Jimmy studied him, his mouth twisting into a thoughtful pout. It was his thinking expression and Ethan recognized it well. “If yer plan had worked today, I would’ve been taken by Bow Street, tried, and likely hanged. Seems like ye deserve the same.”
Ice settled into Ethan’s veins, sent a chill to every corner of his body. He’d expected it, but hearing it pronounced made him realize just how tenuous his life was at present. So many things could go wrong . . . indeed, so many already had. “You’re going to try me and hang me?”
Jimmy settled back into his chair and lifted a shoulder before tossing back the rest of his gin in a quick gulp. “Provided ye’re found guilty.”
Ethan struggled to find his voice. “When?” The word came out clipped and harsh.
“Tomorrow.” Jimmy looked at one of the men near the door. “Tell White I want a scaffold set up outside by morning. Nothing fancy, but it has to be elevated. I think there’ll be quite a crowd.” The man nodded and left.
Ethan held his breath. “Do you plan to try me out there too?”
Jimmy chortled. “’Course I do! The point is to show them that even the best placed man can fall”—he bared his teeth—“when they try to fuck me. The skirts’ll turn out by the ’undreds to weep over ye. Except the one ye really want. Unless ye want me to send for ’er?”
Ethan pulled at his chain. He wanted to wrap it around Jimmy’s throat and squeeze the life out of him just for referring to Audrey. “Don’t ever speak of her.”
Jimmy stood up and moved closer to him. “I’m sorry it has to end like this. Ye were a good lad, Ethan Jagger.” He kicked Ethan in the stomach, doubling him over as pain radiated outward through his body. Then he pulled Ethan’s head up by his hair. “I’ll speak of whoever I want whenever I want. If I want to fetch yer precious gel and sell ’er to the highest bidder, I will. And ye’ll be too dead to stop me.”
He let go of Ethan roughly, shoving his head toward the wall. “Try to get a little rest, if ye can. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Tomorrow ye’ll get the chance to sleep for all eternity.”
Jimmy turned and quit the room, going back out to his men. Three more guards came in and assumed places about the chamber. Even if Ethan could break free of the shackles, he’d never get past the four men who were armed to their teeth. They were also older, quite set in their ways and methods, and they had absolutely no loyalty to Ethan.
He reclined against the wall, leaning his head back. He loosened his cravat and idly wondered if he could use it as a weapon. He supposed he could slip it around someone’s neck like a noose if they wandered close enough.
A noose.
He massaged his neck and swallowed. A vision of Audrey swam before him and the pain slicing through him made Jimmy’s kick feel like a caress in comparison.
He wondered what torture would await him before he’d be granted the “trial,” but decided it didn’t signify. The waiting and the expectation were torment enough.
He brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his calves. Somewhere Audrey was safe and whole, and in the end, that was the only thing that mattered.
Darkness had fallen when Ethan’s men ushered Audrey outside of the flash house and through the rotten streets of St. Giles. They moved quickly, never pausing, and they surrounded her on all sides so that she saw very little. But the stench of filth and decay was impossible to ignore. Still, she barely registered its acridity because she was too distraught over leaving Ethan. Twice she tried to turn back, but his men kept her on the path out of the rookery. When they got to a busy enough thoroughfare, they hailed a hack, and two of them climbed inside with her.
When they asked her for an address, she didn’t even pause before saying, “Lockwood House.” She wasn’t ready to face her grandfather, or even worse, her parents.
The hack moved through the streets, jarring and bouncing her, reminding her of the awful journey to London. She squirmed on the seat, her insides in utter turmoil. She couldn’t breathe, her throat was raw, and her face was hot and puffy from crying. At last, the cab came to a stop outside Lockwood House.
One of the men who’d ridden with her, Eddy, jumped out and helped her descend. The second, Fitzgibbons, followed her and stood staring at her for a long moment.
“Come inside.” Audrey moved up the walk toward the house. “You should be a part of the planning to rescue him.”
“Miss.” Fitzgibbons looked at her pityingly. “He’s probably already dead. I’m sorry to have to say that, but Jimmy’s not one to make empty threats. He does what he says.”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” Eddy added. He tried to offer her a smile, but it was so weak it could only be called a half-smirk.
Audrey couldn’t believe he was dead. She wouldn’t.
A hack drew up behind hers and stopped. Lord Sevrin climbed out. “Miss Cheswick?” Lord Saxton followed him.
“Sevrin!” Audrey bolted toward him. “We have to save Ethan. Gin Jimmy’s going to kill him.” She watched Sevrin look behind her, saw his lips turn down. “Don’t listen to them.” They hadn’t said anything aloud, but based on Sevrin’s reaction, she assumed they’d communicated something.
“Let’s get off the street,” Saxton said, going toward the house.
“Come,” Sevrin said to Eddy and Fitzgibbons.
The two men exchanged looks then nodded.
The door to Lockwood House opened and Audrey allowed herself to be swept through the entry hall and into the drawing room. The last time Audrey had been here had been during Lockwood’s last vice party. The space looked completely different now without its adornment of silks and contingent of masked guests.
Lydia jumped to her feet. “Audrey!” She rushed forward and hugged her friend. Audrey swayed into her embrace. Every muscle in her body sagged.
They stood like that for a moment before Lydia guided her to the settee. “North, please bring some tea.”
Audrey collapsed onto the
cushion and let Lydia hold her hand. She felt cold and numb.
Lydia looked up at Sevrin and Saxton. “What happened? Where’s Jason?”
“We weren’t with him,” Saxton said. “We were waiting outside St. Giles for Ethan’s word. One of his men informed us that he’d turned himself over to Jimmy in exchange for Audrey’s release.”
Lydia inhaled sharply. “Then Carlyle wasn’t able to apprehend Jimmy?”
Audrey glanced between all of them. “What do you mean?”
“Ethan sent Jimmy a note to lure him out of his lair,” Lydia said.
That had to have been the message the boy had delivered.
Audrey nodded. “Yes, Jimmy left for a time.” That’s when Ethan had arrived. “But he came back. The plan must not have worked.”
Lydia’s face blanched. “Jason was waiting for him, disguised as Ethan in case Jimmy sent anyone in advance to determine if Ethan was actually there—which he wasn’t.” She looked at Sevrin and Saxton. “Do you think Jason . . . ?”
Audrey felt the tension in her friend’s frame and heard the worry in her question. Had Jimmy gotten to Jason, discovered he wasn’t Ethan and killed him? Audrey didn’t think it was possible to feel any worse. She couldn’t bear it if they lost both Ethan and his brother in the same day.
“I don’t know,” Sevrin said darkly. He turned to Saxton and they spoke in low tones.
“Don’t whisper,” Audrey snapped, unable—and unwilling—to keep her emotions in check. “We have a right to know everything you do.”
Sevrin nodded and came further into the room, though he didn’t sit. “We don’t know anything. We were just wondering if we should go to the Brazen Bride to determine what happened.”
“What’s the Brazen Bride?” Audrey asked.
Sevrin braced his hands on his hips. “The flash house where Ethan met Jimmy. It’s where he asked Jimmy to come. Lord Carlyle went there with several constables to arrest him.”
“Yes, let’s go and see what happened,” Audrey said, half rising from the settee.
The sound of the front door opening carried into the drawing room and was succeeded by heavy footfalls across the marble tiles. Audrey held her breath until Lockwood stepped over the threshold.
Lydia let go of her hand and ran to him. She leapt into his arms and wrapped her hands around his neck. “Jason!”
Lockwood held her tightly and kissed her forehead. Audrey looked away, unable to suffer the tender moment. All she could see was Ethan’s regret-filled gaze, and all she could taste was his bittersweet kiss.
Lord Carlyle came into the drawing room, trailed by a man Audrey recognized as one of Lockwood’s retainers. “A trio of Ethan’s men found us in Portugal Street and told us what happened with Jimmy. Miss Cheswick, I’m so glad you’re safe. It was what he wanted.”
He spoke as if Ethan were already gone. Panic threatened to suffocate her. “He may not be dead. We have to try to rescue him.”
Fitzgibbons removed his hat and clenched it between his massive hands. “There’s likely nothin’ to be done.” He flicked his gaze around the room. “Even if Jagger’s not dead yet, ’e’s ’eavily guarded.”
Audrey’s chest twisted anew and her throat constricted painfully. “We have to try.”
“Yes, we do,” Lockwood said, his gaze finding Audrey’s and giving her a sliver of hope. It was enough to know she wasn’t alone in wanting to try to save Ethan.
Lydia turned in his embrace so she could see Audrey. “Yes, we have to try.”
Carlyle nodded slowly. “We must remember that Ethan is different—to Jimmy. Lockwood, do you know what the letter said? Are there any clues we can use to help us?”
“He appealed to their father-son relationship.”
Father-son? Ethan hadn’t told her anything about that. An ache opened up in her chest as she realized there would be countless things she’d never know about him because he wouldn’t have the chance to tell her.
Carlyle cocked his head to the side. “Then it’s also possible that Jimmy might behave differently in this situation since his emotions are involved.”
“And you think that’s a good thing?” Saxton’s tone was laced with doubt.
“I don’t know what to think. But I’ll find out.” Carlyle turned to the retainer who’d come in with him. “Scot, can you see if you can learn anything through any of your contacts?”
Scot gave a swift nod. “Meet back here in a couple of hours?”
“As quickly as possible. If there’s a chance to pull off a rescue attempt, we’ll need to move fast.”
“Carlyle, do you need any help?” Sevrin asked.
Carlyle frowned. “Ethan didn’t want you getting too involved.”
“He’s not here to argue with me about it. Let’s go.”
Saxton straightened his coat and turned toward the door. “I’ll come with you.”
“Wait,” Lockwood said, releasing Lydia and moving toward them. “You can’t expect me to stay here and do nothing.”
Carlyle inclined his head toward Audrey and Lydia. “I don’t think you’ll be doing ‘nothing.’ We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
They all departed and Lockwood spun about to glare at nothing in particular.
North set the tea service on the table. Audrey had no idea when he’d entered.
“I’ll bring some whisky, my lord.”
Jason dropped himself on the other settee. “Bring the damn bottle.”
Lydia returned to Audrey and took her hand again. “We’re going to save him.” If her declaration lacked certainty, Audrey didn’t comment on it. She had to hold on to whatever hope she could find.
Audrey felt a strip of smoothness on her friend’s finger. She looked down at the wedding band on Lydia’s hand. “You were married,” she said softly, her heart aching because she would likely never know that joy.
Lydia smiled sadly. “Yes. I’m sorry you couldn’t be there.”
North came in with a bottle of whisky and handed a glass of the amber liquid to Lockwood. He raised the glass. “I told Ethan we’d celebrate at your wedding,”
Audrey jumped to her feet, suddenly unable to tolerate company. “Do you mind if I go upstairs?”
“Not at all,” Lydia said. “I’ll have North show you to the yellow room.”
“It’s all right, I know where it is.” Audrey nearly smiled at the shocked look on Lydia’s face.
“Were you actually here that night Wolverton was killed?” Lockwood asked, incredulous. “When Sevrin showed up at Bow Street earlier and said you’d been a witness to the murder, I assumed it was a lie.”
“I may have exaggerated what I saw, but I was here. Dressed as a gentleman.” The familiar blush that should’ve stolen up her neck as she revealed this information didn’t come. Perhaps she was just too emotionally exhausted to care. “I’ve been to four of your vice parties, actually. I’m quite familiar with the layout of the house.” Both Lockwood and Lydia gaped at her. “Don’t look so scandalized, I didn’t partake of any of the offerings, save the gambling.”
Lydia shook her head. “It’s just . . . I’m shocked.”
“I’m not always what I seem.” Her voice cracked. Ethan had known that about her. From their very first waltzing lesson, he’d seen right to her core, had declared she was worth more than anyone had ever realized. She’d fallen half in love with him right then.
She turned to go, but Lydia halted her at the doorway. “Should we notify your grandfather or your parents that you’re here?”
Audrey turned. She’d barely given them a second thought, including her grandfather, which sparked a pang of shame. “Not yet. What do they think happened when I disappeared?”
“Your grandfather insisted you’d been kidnapped by a dark-haired criminal. Ethan, I imagine. But then Bow Street told them a few days later that you seemed to be traveling with him without duress. The whole affair has been kept very quiet.”
“I’m sure no one has even registered my
absence.” Audrey forced a weak smile. “Except you.”
Lydia’s gaze was soft, but not quite pitying, thank goodness. They both knew that Society hadn’t ever paid much attention to her and wouldn’t notice if she’d fallen off the face of the earth.
“Please fetch me when they return.” Audrey turned and made her way upstairs on legs that should not have been able to support her. But she wouldn’t crumple. Not yet. She would fight for Ethan until she was certain he was gone. And then she didn’t know what she’d do at all.
TWENTY
Ethan’s warm palm skimmed up her thigh, parting her legs. His bare chest pressed into her side as his lips nibbled the sensitive flesh beneath her ear. Audrey rotated to her back while his fingers played between her legs, coaxing her easy response. She sighed softly. His tongue traced whorls along her neck and licked at her collarbone.
She reached up to guide his head to her breast, but her hand found nothing. Her eyes flew open and she felt a rush of cool air.
She was alone.
With a jerk, she sat up on the bed, surprised she’d managed to doze off. Judging by the length of candle that had burned, she’d slept a long time—longer than she would’ve thought possible. Why hadn’t anyone awakened her?
She jumped up and smoothed her hand over the wrinkles of the dress one of the maids had brought her before she’d lain down. If her gown was that rumpled, her hair had to be a fright, but she didn’t give a whit about her appearance. She practically ran from the room and down the stairs.
The drawing room had been converted once again. Though there still weren’t any silks draping the corners, the round table that sat in the center during vice parties had been moved into place. However, instead of displaying a female in some state of undress, it was surrounded by the men, their heads bent.
