by Darcy Burke
Audrey cleared her throat and they all turned. “What’s going on, and why wasn’t I awakened when you all returned?” Anger coursed through her. It felt good after so many hours of despair and helplessness.
Lydia came forward, along with Philippa and Olivia, Saxton’s wife. A fourth woman lingered near the settee. Audrey recognized her as Lady Carlyle.
“I’m sorry, dear.” Lydia said, putting her arm around Audrey and drawing her into the room. “We thought you should sleep as long as possible. We were going to rouse you soon. Would you like a tray of food?”
Her stomach growled, but she didn’t think she could eat. “Something to drink, perhaps.”
Lydia nodded and turned away.
Philippa hugged her. “I’m so sorry. I’m just glad you’re all right. I was so distraught when you disappeared.”
Audrey knew her abduction from Beckwith had to have frightened Philippa to death, especially given her own kidnapping. She hugged Philippa back. “I’m all right. They didn’t hurt me.”
“Thank God.” Philippa stepped back, her eyes glistening.
Audrey shared a sympathetic gaze with Olivia before moving toward the table. “What are you discussing?”
They all turned and blocked whatever they were looking at.
Lockwood came to her side and tried to guide her to the settee. “You should sit down.”
She shook off his arm and welcomed the rush of frustrated fury. “Please don’t patronize me. Tell me what you know.”
He nodded. “The good news is that he’s still alive.”
Relief poured through her, but was short-lived as she realized it couldn’t be that simple. “And the bad news?”
Lockwood exchanged glances with Carlyle, who came to stand before Audrey. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. He clearly didn’t want to tell her, but eventually said, “Jimmy plans to hang him in the morning.”
The world felt as if it were falling away beneath her feet. “Hang him?” He should have escaped that threat when Bow Street had dropped the charges.
Philippa touched her arm. “They’re working on a plan to rescue him.”
“Yes,” Carlyle said. “And we’ll need your help to describe where he is. I’ve been in many places in St. Giles, but never the Cup and Burrow. It’s heavily guarded, because it’s Jimmy’s stronghold.”
Audrey relaxed a little, eager to be helpful and appreciative that they were letting her be. “I know how to get there and where he is inside—or at least where he was. I’m very good at direction.” She’d proven that more than once while she and Ethan were running across southwestern England.
Carlyle smiled at her. “Excellent.” He looked toward the others. “I’m fairly certain we can get in one by one if we’re smart. The challenge will be getting Ethan out of there. We’ll be quite outnumbered, even with Ethan’s loyal followers.”
She’d seen their reactions to Ethan and believed he had more support than they realized. “When Ethan arrived at the Cup and Burrow today, he tried to convince Jimmy’s men that they’d be better off without him. Some of them seemed swayed. If people knew we were attempting a rescue, they might help us.”
Carlyle pressed his lips together. “We don’t have much time to rally troops. It’s already nearing midnight.”
So late? “We have to try.”
Lockwood stepped away from the table. “I agree. We can go back to the Brazen Bride and spread the word from there.”
“It’s risky,” Carlyle said, stroking his chin and staring at the table, which had a hand-drawn map sprawled across its top. “If Jimmy hears that we’re attempting to save Ethan, he may just kill him straightaway.”
Audrey tensed. The situation seemed hopeless. No, she wouldn’t give up. She’d told Ethan she was optimistic, and she would hold on to that—he deserved nothing less.
Scot set his palms on the table and leaned forward, addressing everyone. “We have to target who we tell and instruct them to spread the word at the latest possible moment.”
“Yes, we’ll have to map out a plan for that.” Carlyle went back to the table. He seemed to be in charge. “First, however, we need to determine our entrance strategy. We can’t exactly march in through the front door.”
“I don’t think going in is our best option,” Scot said slowly, glancing around. “Even if we could find a way, getting out would be near impossible. We’d have a better chance out in the open, when they bring Ethan outside to walk him to the scaffold.”
“Unfortunately, I think you’re right,” Carlyle said. He glanced at Audrey, who was listening to their discussion as if they were at the end of a long tunnel. She could hear them, but there was this dark, hollow space separating her from everyone. “It would, however, be helpful if we could get a person or two into the Cup and Burrow in order to do as Audrey suggested and sway some of them to our cause. It would be even better if we could somehow smuggle information, or even a small weapon, in to Ethan so that he can be prepared when we make our move.”
Audrey strode toward the table, suddenly realizing her purpose. “I can do it.” Everyone was staring at her, some of them with widened eyes. “There’s a way to get in—if you’re a . . . prostitute. They take in new girls through a back stairway. I was kept in a room where they put the women after they first arrive. If I disguise myself, I could get in.”
Lydia had come back with a glass of sherry. She moved to Audrey and grabbed her hand. “No, no. That’s far too dangerous.”
Yes, but it was a good plan and she couldn’t sit around Lockwood House waiting for the outcome. She needed to be a part of this. If they weren’t successful, if Ethan died, and she’d done nothing but wring her hands, she’d never be able to live with herself. “I can do this. I remember those who seemed sympathetic.”
“I’ll go with her,” Scot said, drawing everyone’s attention. “I’ll drop her off at the back and then go inside for a pint.”
Sevrin nodded at him. “I could go too. I’m as comfortable in a tavern as I am in a ballroom. More so, actually.”
Philippa sent him a pained gaze. “Ambrose.”
Sevrin went and murmured something in Philippa’s ear, then kissed her cheek.
Audrey wanted these people to help Ethan, but she couldn’t understand why they would offer. His brother, yes, but the rest of them? “Why are you doing this?” she asked of no one in particular.
They all glanced between one another, but it was Lady Carlyle who spoke. “He saved my life. And Daniel’s. I can’t sit by while he’s hanged.”
Sevrin put his arm around Philippa’s shoulders. “I was lucky enough to find someone who had faith in me, who gave me the second chance I needed. I can’t turn my back on Ethan knowing he wants to change.” He looked at Saxton. “I can’t begin to fathom why Sax is helping, but I would venture to say he just doesn’t like being left out.”
Saxton’s pale eyes gleamed. “Just so.”
A surge of emotion welled up in Audrey. “I can’t thank you all enough.” She took the sherry from Lydia’s hand and toasted them all before taking a sustaining drink.
“If I thought Daniel would let me, I’d go with you.” Lady Carlyle cracked a smile. “But I’m certain he would say it’s too dangerous.”
Carlyle went and put his arm around his wife. “St. Giles is no place for any of us, which is why we need to get in and out as quickly as possible. And we need to blend in—that will be the key to our success or failure. If we look like we belong there, we’ll be fine. That is my gravest concern with supporting any of us going. Scot appears to be able to comport himself quite well with the criminal element.” He shot Lockwood’s retainer a speculative glance, to which Scot merely shrugged. “And I daresay Sevrin would be able to make a place for himself. The rest of you lot . . .” He shook his head. “There’s an issue of liability. We need to be focused on getting Ethan and getting out. Only those who can defend themselves should go.” Carlyle’s apologetic gaze settled on Audrey.
Sh
e refused to be left behind. “I can shoot. Probably better than some of you.”
“A gun will not protect you for long, Miss Cheswick. I know it will be difficult to remain here, but I think you must.”
All the years of being shoved to the background, of her opinions and desires being ignored, erupted inside of her. She advanced on Carlyle, her lip curling. “Either you include me in your plan or I’ll find a way to get there myself. Wouldn’t it be better if we were all working together?”
Carlyle blinked at her, then exchanged a questioning look with his wife.
“She should go,” Lockwood said, sounding quietly authoritative. Perhaps Carlyle wasn’t in charge after all. “Just as I’m going to go. Ethan saved Lydia from Jimmy, and I mean to return the favor.” His gaze took on a tinge of sadness and regret. “He deserves recompense . . . for so many things.”
Carlyle seemed to understand there was no point in arguing further. He nodded swiftly and turned back to the table. “Then let us prepare ourselves. We need to get moving. Ladies, can you put together an appropriate costume for Miss Cheswick?”
“The clothing from my husband’s parties remains upstairs,” Lydia said. “I haven’t had a chance to clean out all of the rooms. I’m certain we can find something suitable.”
“I believe I know just where to look.” Philippa directed a half-smile at her husband.
“And I can make any necessary alterations,” Olivia said. She was an accomplished seamstress and designer. “Plus, I have some experience with how real prostitutes dress. When I’m finished with Audrey, she will look as though she belongs at the Cup and Burrow.” She’d confided to Audrey that she’d resided next to a brothel before she’d gone to live with Saxton’s aunt, Lady Merriweather.
Lydia, Philippa, and Olivia left while Lady Carlyle moved to stand beside Audrey. She offered an encouraging smile. “What will you do once you get inside?”
Audrey exchanged looks with Lockwood and Carlyle. “There’s a young woman, Nan, who serves as a maid. She’s particularly”—what was the right word?—“grateful to Ethan. She will help me.” Audrey felt certain Nan would participate in a rescue effort, especially when it included her. She resolved to take the young woman with her when they escaped St. Giles.
“Won’t they recognize you from earlier?” Lady Carlyle asked.
“If I make up my face and dress differently, I don’t think they’ll know it’s me.”
“Olivia will ensure Miss Cheswick is beyond recognition,” Saxton said.
“What a peculiar lot of people you are,” Lady Carlyle marveled. “When this is all finished and everything is back to normal, I’m hosting a dinner party so that I can hear every one of your interesting stories.” She smiled warmly at Audrey.
Audrey appreciated Lady Carlyle’s optimism more than she could say.
Carlyle fixed her with a steady stare. “Now, Miss Cheswick, tell us everything you know about the Cup and Burrow.”
That evening Ethan was subjected to the typical humiliations Jimmy inflicted on those who crossed him. Ethan’s dinner was tossed to him in pieces, as if he were a dog, and when he had to relieve himself, he was given a chamber pot and no privacy. Jimmy and the men at his table, meanwhile, enjoyed plenty of food, wine, and ale and threw disparaging comments at Ethan. Marie served them and cast intermittent pitying glances toward Ethan.
Ethan didn’t let the mistreatment get to him. If his plan worked, it would be a small price to pay. He also tried not to think about what would happen if it didn’t work.
Jimmy motioned for one of the guards to come to him. The guard leaned down while Jimmy whispered something in his ear. He nodded and left. Jimmy’s gaze settled on Ethan a moment, as it had frequently throughout the night. This time lasted longer than the others but ended the same, with a regretful headshake.
Ethan wondered what that was about, but reasoned it maybe had nothing to do with him. He leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. There was a grayish stain in the nearest corner. He’d spent a good portion of the last several hours trying to determine its cause. It was better than contemplating his future. He wouldn’t let himself think past tomorrow morning.
The guard returned with two other men who came directly to him. Ethan recognized them, but only recalled the name of the smaller man—George. They unshackled him and led him to the other doorway. Ethan glanced over at Jimmy, but he was turned away talking to whoever sat on his right.
Ethan had only been through this door to go outside, but he knew it also led to a room where Jimmy sent men to be beaten. Was Ethan to be punished before he was tried and hanged? His muscles tensed, and he weighed whether he could take out the two men before they subdued him. But Ethan had no weapons—they’d been stripped from him with his boots—and the guards were armed to the teeth.
“What’s going on?” Ethan asked.
George shook his head. “Ye’re a lucky bastard. Jimmy’s sendin’ ye a girl.” He led Ethan down a short corridor to another door.
“I don’t want a girl.” Particularly if she wasn’t going to aid his cause. He certainly didn’t want to shag anyone other than Audrey.
George turned and looked at Ethan as if he were daft. “I’m not tellin’ Jimmy ye don’t want his generosity.”
Why was Jimmy doing this? Was it because he was so drunk? It was when he was most vulnerable—at least emotionally. Was he allowing sentimentality to guide his actions? Perhaps there was still a way Ethan could somehow turn this to his advantage. If he could find a way out of here tonight, he’d save everyone a lot of trouble on the morrow.
George opened the door to a very small room with only a pallet on the floor and a flickering sconce. There was also another ring on the wall to which was affixed a length of chain and a shackle. It seemed Jimmy’s generosity only extended so far.
Ethan turned, hoping there was a way to get past the other guard, but he was huge and filled the doorway. He also gave Ethan an impassive glower that somehow verbalized there was no way to get through him.
But Ethan hadn’t survived as long as he had without taking risks.
He launched himself at the man’s middle, hoping to take him down and somehow clamber over him. If he could get to the doorway in the middle of the short corridor, he could find his way out of the maze that was the Cup and Burrow.
However, the giant didn’t fall. He clasped his arms around Ethan and slammed him into the doorframe. Pain radiated along Ethan’s spine. He wanted to strike out, but his arms were pinned. Instead, he kicked—ineffectively—at the man’s legs.
The brute carried him into the chamber like he was a sack of stolen goods. When Ethan was near enough to the chain, George took his right hand and shackled him to the wall. The man dropped him to the pallet and stepped back. Ethan lunged for him, but the chain kept him from getting close enough.
George had also retreated. “Try anything like that again and I’ll have to tell Jimmy. I always liked ye, Jagger, but ye know where my loyalties must lie. We’ll be right outside so we can let yer girl in. Try to enjoy ’er.” He gave Ethan a final resigned look, then they left, locking the door behind them.
Ethan had no intention of enjoying anything. But perhaps this was the torture Jimmy intended. He knew Ethan loved Audrey, that he was willing to sacrifice his life to save her. So what would be more degrading than to send a woman to entice him, to perhaps even force him?
A shudder wracked his aching frame. He’d endured many long nights, especially in his youth when he’d had to sleep with one eye open in order to preserve himself. This night, however, might just be the longest he’d ever endured.
TWENTY-ONE
Audrey and Scot made their way through St. Giles with only mild looks of interest directed their way. Or, more accurately, her way. Though she wore a cloak to cover the alarming décolletage of her gown, its vivid scarlet hue was still visible at the hem. The lurid color stuck out in the grime of St. Giles like a beacon on a dark night. And despite
the bonnet that covered her hair and should’ve provided a bit of shade for her face, every now and then a lantern cast its illumination over her heavily made-up features. At these times, those who caught sight of her stared. Olivia had done a wonderful job making her look . . . different, and in a surprisingly inoffensive way.
They approached the Cup and Burrow. Audrey’s pace quickened as her insides tightened. “Around the back,” she murmured to Scot.
He took her hand and led her down a narrow alley, which boasted a half dozen or so slumbering men. They didn’t stir as Audrey and Scot picked past them. Audrey brought her hand to her nose as they neared the last—he smelled as if he’d soiled himself.
They came to a door and Scot halted. “This has to be it.” He turned to look at her, but his face was barely discernible in the meager light that spilled down the alleyway. “You ready?”
She nodded. She didn’t want to think about it too long. Leaving Scot’s company filled her with fear, but she knew he wouldn’t be far—just in the common room. She also knew that Jason, Sevrin, Carlyle, and Saxton were nearby too, or would be.
Audrey unclasped her cloak and gave it to Scot, who would dispose of it before he went into the Cup and Burrow. “I’ll see you soon,” she said brightly, in an effort to buoy her confidence.
“Aye, and remember, I’ll be only a scream away.” He squeezed her hand and departed down the alley. He lingered at the end while she rapped on the door.
It took several attempts before the door opened. Audrey’s shoulders drooped in relief as she cast a final glance at Scot before stepping inside.
“Wot ye doin’ at this hour?” Mother Dean, the Cup and Burrow’s mistress, blinked at Audrey and rubbed her reddened eyes.
“I came to work. Ye ain’t goin’ to turn me away, are ye?” Audrey had worked on her speech with Olivia, trying to emulate the women Olivia had known in her past. Audrey passed a hand over her bodice and rested it against her hip. She thrust her chest out for good measure.
Mother Dean held up her lantern and scrutinized Audrey for a long moment. Her gaze rested on Audrey’s face, and Audrey held her breath waiting to see if she’d recognize her from their brief meeting the previous day.
