Three Nights of Sin

by Anne Mallory

  “No. I need you to tell me your fee,” Noble said, his voice silky and smooth.

  “It depends on the job. I rolled the Winters fees all into one price. They still owe me the last two hundred.” He sent a softly chiding look her way. The obnoxious lump.

  “No.”

  Hackenstay switched his gaze back to Noble, shock edging his features. “No? What do you mean?”

  “I’d like to see the work you’ve done on the case.”

  He swallowed. “I-I don’t have that information at hand.”

  “How do you expect to help Mr. Kenneth Winters?” Noble idly lifted a folded paper from Hackenstay’s desk. The barrister reached out to reclaim it and put it back in its place, squaring it away.

  “I will sit in on his trial and plead his case, just as I said.”

  “With his family watching?” Noble picked up a round glass ball.

  Hackenstay tried to snatch the ball back as well, but Noble pretended not to notice as he examined it. The barrister looked irritated, but then switched his gaze to her and shook his head, his lips curling under in mock sympathy beneath his bushy mustache. “Unfortunately, family members may not watch. But I will be sure to relay everything to them after the proceedings.” He reached out again for the glass ball and missed grabbing it. “If you could just return my globe?”

  Noble tossed it in the air, a short arc of glittering light, and Hackenstay caught it against his chest. He looked more flustered than before.

  “I see,” Noble said, fingers drifting through papers. “So really, they will have no way of knowing whether you will really help their brother in court.”

  “I will help him until the end! I will convince the judge and jury of his innocence.” The barrister clutched the globe.

  “So you keep saying. Let’s be short and frank here.” He stopped and turned to Marietta. “Actually, Miss Winters, why don’t you explain to Mr. Hackenstay what will happen in the next fifteen minutes.”

  Surprise stormed through her. What had changed his mind in letting her talk? She didn’t give him a chance to take it back. “Your ‘contract’ is nonsense. As are your promises. You are a terrible man taking advantage of us like that, in our moment of grief and despair. You will return all our money, Mr. Hackenstay. Right now. To the pound.”

  “I assure you, miss, that you need a retainer for your brother to speak his case.” Moisture gathered along his hairline.

  Anger, hot and deep, coursed through her. “I’ve read the laws, Mr. Hackenstay. In felonious cases you cannot do the things you’ve promised. I’m no longer quite as naive as when I walked through your door last week. Return the money right now or I—we—will make sure you regret it.”

  Noble smiled at her. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, but she somehow knew that the unpleasantness wasn’t aimed at her. That he approved of what she’d said.

  The door opened behind her. She saw Noble tense before his hand brushed his pocket and he turned. She had stopped carrying her pistol around, no longer concerned with keeping safe from the jeering crowds since moving to Noble’s. Perhaps that hadn’t been a smart decision.

  “Here now, what’s going on?”

  “Mr. Tannett. Thank—” Hackenstay pulled his scrawny frame up to his full height. “These folks are trying to cheat us.”

  Noble took a step away from her and shot her a look so intense that she stepped back as well.

  Tannett’s eyes narrowed. “Are they now?”

  “Your junior barrister here is trying to swindle the Winters family out of three hundred pounds,” Noble said with a rather lazy air, all traces of intensity wiped clean. “Hardly the type that can call someone else a cheat.”

  Tannett took a step toward Noble. Close to the wall, she was out of the immediate attention of both barristers. She had the feeling that was what Noble had intended by forcing her back.

  “I’m not a s-s-swindler!” Hackenstay shouted.

  “If you give us back the three hundred pounds, I’ll let it go as a miscommunication due to your junior status. The contract is illegal. As a barrister you should know that there is little you can do but to return the money. Otherwise, I’ll have a Runner on your case in the blink of an eye.”

  The side of Tannett’s face suddenly turned up. “The Winters family. I see. I think not, Mister…?

  Noble just stared at the man without blinking. Tannett’s mouth tightened before continuing without Noble’s address.

  “Mr. Winters is in dire straits. I doubt he will want us broadcasting that to the public, now will he? And with his poor brother in prison, one can only imagine the compounded scandal.”

  Mark would sooner give up the money than cause further scandal. Marietta bit her lower lip.

  “Do I sense a note of blackmail in your voice, Mr. Tannett?” Noble asked, as if only half interested in the response.

  Tannett quirked an eye, as if he were especially clever. “You may.”

  “I see. I think it only fair to tell you that I dislike blackmailers. Actually, I rather hate them, truth to tell.” His voice was dark and ominous. He strode forward, and Tannett’s hand went to his coat pocket. Noble gripped his wrist before it slid inside the fold. “You might want to tell your junior to remove his hand from that drawer, or else I’m liable to accidentally shoot you.”

  Marietta blinked to see a pistol in Noble’s other hand pressed against Tannett’s side.

  “Hackenstay.” Tannett’s voice was high and tight.

  “Marietta, be a dear and take Mr. Hackenstay’s assuredly shoddy gun from the drawer.” She started to step forward, but stopped when Noble’s even voice continued. “Oh, and Hackenstay, make a move toward her, and I will put Tannett out of his misery and then start working on you. I won’t be quick about it either.”

  Hackenstay pressed himself as far away from his desk as he could get. She walked around the desk, eyes darting to all the men, and removed the pistol. A quick head jerk from Noble had her back to her corner.

  Noble twisted so that Tannett’s hand fell from his pocket fold and his arm was wrenched behind him. “I was willing to negotiate with your barrister, Tannett, but now that I see how willing you are to take advantage of innocents like Miss Winters and to use blackmail…I have to say that my method of dealing with you seems to have changed its scope.”

  “I will hunt you down.”

  “I’m trembling. Really, you should learn from the best first. After a top-notch blackmailer has had his way with you, you’ll never be second-rate again.”

  There was a hesitation in the sentence that was odd, but Marietta had little time to process it.

  “Who are you?” Tannett asked between his teeth, obviously in pain.

  “That matters little. What should matter to you is what I can do to you.” He leaned forward and whispered something in Tannett’s ear. The man turned to chalk. “Think that over. We are going to take the three hundred pounds you owe the Winterses. And I’ll be back to check on you, Tannett. Rest assured.”

  Tannett gave a swift nod to Hackenstay. “Make out a draft.” When the scrawny man didn’t move, he shouted, “Now!”

  Hackenstay grabbed the tin box and they waited as he removed a paper with trembling hands and then wrote down the necessary information.

  “Marietta, if you please.”

  She retrieved the draft and stowed it in her reticule. It felt very strange to be carrying three hundred pounds in her bag.

  “And with that, gentlemen, we bid you a good afternoon. Perhaps it is time to start a new business or to read through your law texts again.”

  He motioned to Marietta and she scampered out of the office, her reticule clutched against her chest in a parody of Mr. Hackenstay holding his globe earlier, the man’s pistol gripped tightly in her fingertips.

  She didn’t know how Noble removed himself from the office without leaving himself open to retaliation, but he emerged with a pistol in each hand and nudged her toward the door.

  As soon as they ste
pped onto the sidewalk, he stowed the three pistols and set a brisk pace. He didn’t slow until they were three blocks away in two different directions. She could see him looking behind but her mind was frozen. As soon as he shortened his steps, she snapped back to the scene of the bustling streets and the busier areas near the Thames. They stepped onto Blackfriars and a wave of something rocketed through her.

  “You just threatened them with a gun. I think I just threatened them with a gun. We got the money back. They actually returned it.” She took another shaky step. “I feel so…vibrant.”

  His eyes were cynical. “Delayed emotion. Don’t do anything stupid because of it.”

  But not even his words could bring her down. She barely noticed as they cashed the draft and made their way back home. Home. As if she would ever have a real one. But this one at least had rosemary and dill bread, incredible stews and a man who could right her wrongs—and that was well more than she’d had a week past.

  Her calves twinged a bit as they made their way to another section of town after a quick stop to eat. She was used to a lot of walking, but they’d been briskly striding across the entire midsection of London today.

  She followed Noble into a plain building and down a hall to a door labeled records. Noble pushed inside and a lanky man with large glasses looked up.

  “Mr. Noble!”

  “Good afternoon, Anthony. Are you busy?”

  Anthony pushed aside his papers and spread his hands. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for information on the Middlesex murderer case.”

  Anthony’s sharp eyes looked to her and then back to Noble. “I see. There’s not much. It has boggled the minds of everyone around here. Was a relief to most that they think they have the culprit in custody.”

  “I figured as much. What do you have? Any previous suspects?”

  Anthony motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk and tapped his pen on the oak surface. “There were three. The first victim’s husband was a suspect at first, until he was accounted for by twenty different witnesses. Attended some business function during the time of her murder. The blame quickly moved to his business partner, who was not at the function. That thread of inquiry was destroyed, though, by the timing of the next victim. The business partner was in Cornwall—and his story is solid. There were two men in the parish area who were questioned but not held. Joshua Dawkins and a street urchin. Dawkins is one you might want to check out. The Runners have all been leery of him. Described as a suspicious man.”

  “If there were two people in the area, why did they not get the same treatment as my—as Kenneth Winters?” Marietta couldn’t help but ask.

  Noble didn’t glare at her this time, but she detected something close to a sigh in his expression. Anthony gave her a measuring glance, though his eyes were still friendly. She had the impression of a quick mind hidden behind a nonthreatening air.

  “They were much more desperate the third time.”

  Noble motioned with his hand to continue, and Anthony didn’t wait for her response. “The second victim, anonymous, contained no identifiable links to the first. The parish patrollers who found the body quit the next day. I heard it was gruesome.”

  “Which is why the second victim hasn’t been identified?”

  Anthony nodded. “There are artist sketches at Coroner’s Court of the faces after they were cleaned. May want to have a look and see if you can obtain copies. They have sketches of the first two.”

  “And the new victim?”

  “That one too, I’m sure. I heard they rushed the body through.”

  “Suspicious.”

  Anthony tilted his head. “Or frightened.”

  “Who was the first victim?”

  “Mrs. Amanda Sinclair.”

  Marietta thought the name sounded vaguely familiar. “The Sinclairs? Weren’t they just married? It was sudden? Banns barely read in Herefordshire, was it? She was someone from the countryside returned to London?”

  “Sounds right. Part of the investigation took place in Herefordshire.”

  Noble was looking over a paper on Anthony’s desk. “Perhaps the link is there. What was her previous name?”

  Anthony shook his head. “Easy enough to find out, but I don’t know off the top of my head. I’ll send a post when I find it.”

  “Arthur Dresden still assigned to the case?”

  Anthony grimaced. “Yes.”

  “I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting him yet, though his reputation precedes him.”

  “Even as the newest Runner, he has wreaked havoc in the ranks. Hungry. Be careful of him, he doesn’t get on well with the patrollers or watch. Thinks they are useless.”

  “Sometimes they are, but it’s never a good idea to let them know you think that.”

  “Which tells you something about Dresden.”

  “Indeed.”

  Noble rose and Marietta rose with him. “Thank you, Anthony. Consider this and the victim’s name as first payment.”

  Anthony nodded. “Good luck to you, Miss Winters. I’m sure that Mr. Noble will have your brother out of jail in no time.”

  Marietta gaped at him. Noble took hold of her elbow and guided her into the hall. He dropped his hand, but she could still feel the imprint.

  “How did he know?”

  “Anthony is smart. And you weren’t being particularly coy. Come.”

  “You did something for him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your favors don’t seem that bad.”

  A slow smile spread over his face. “I’m glad you don’t think so. But Marietta…” He leaned toward her and smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear, leaving tingles everywhere he brushed. “You have no idea what I have in store for you.”

  Chapter 7

  Marietta moaned. She should have been sick of eating soups and stews, but they were so good.

  There was a knock on the front door, and since Noble looked disinclined to answer it, she did. A young boy stood on the stoop. “Message for Marietta.”

  Odd that he used her first name, but she appreciated the discretion more than she could express. The last thing she needed was for someone to identify her as living here. She took the sealed paper and rooted in her hanging pocket for a coin, handing it to the boy. He tipped his hat and she closed the door.

  She ran a finger over the long sloped handwriting and the eagle seal. She sat at the table to read her brother’s note, a tingle of guilt running through her that Mark was in worse straits at the moment—not enjoying delicious food, fending off the crowds. She’d sent him fifty pounds along with her address, hoping he would use the money for food. Knowing that soon she would have to let him know that the remaining two hundred fifty was back in their accounts. She was afraid he’d squander it before they could use it to repay their debts.

  Two lines were scrawled on the page. They were moving Kenny’s trial up and the barrister’s office had been cleaned out with no forwarding address.

  She tapped a finger against the paper.

  “What is it?” Noble continued writing and didn’t look up.

  She read him the note. He paused, his pen hovering above his parchment.

  “I see that Tannett took my advice. Good. As to your brother—your younger brother—we will need to see if we can hold off the trial.”

  “How?”

  He went back to writing. “I know who to ask. He’s holding a masquerade tonight. He loves his masquerades, the more debaucherous, the better. You will need to be dressed appropriately.”

  He looked up, green eyes surveying her. “Do you have a domino or a mask?”

  She clutched the note. “I do, but nothing risqué like you are suggesting.”

  He waved a hand and went back to his page. “One of the tavern outfits will be more than perfect.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Are you insane?” she hissed. “Who is your friend?”

  “John Alcroft.”

  She blinked. “I can’t attend
a party held by John Alcroft dressed like that. People will know me there.”

  “Not if you are a tavern wench wearing a mask, they won’t.” His pen scritched across the parchment.

  “But—”

  The scritching halted. “Look, Marietta. No one will notice you or identify you, trust me.” His gaze swept her. “You blend in too well.”

  Her stomach tightened. “I realize I’m plain, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “You aren’t plain. You are mutable.” He cocked his head. “Able to look differently depending on the situation and what you are wearing or how your hair is fixed. It’s a strength.”

  She stared at him, her mouth ajar.

  He leaned forward, a smile curving his lips to vie with his piercing eyes. “I’ll bet before this you wore your hair exactly the same way, every day. And your black or brown dresses? The same. You probably tilted your head the same way to every opening conversation salvo. And the way you glared and stared. The same. Rarely did you smile, I’ll bet, and have fun? Not for years.”

  The only sounds she could hear were the continued simmering of the soup pot and the heavy beat of her heart.

  “And from your silence I can see that I would win that bet easily. So tell me, Marietta. If you redo your hair, apply kohl around your eyes, and attach a mask, do you honestly think someone will recognize you?”

  The seconds ticked by. She was frozen. He raised a brow then started scritching again.

  No, there was no chance that she would be identified. Either as the boring fringe society member she was or the sister of the Middlesex murderer.

  She hadn’t realized her actions were so…predictable. She hadn’t liked being out of control since very shortly after their parents’ deaths. Perhaps she had gone to the extreme.

  There was freedom in going to the masquerade as someone else. She opened her mouth to respond when the back door banged open.

  “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

  A tall man, even taller than Noble, strode into the kitchen, immediately heading for the sideboard without another word. He lifted a bowl and the ladle.

  Noble didn’t look up, though she had seen him tense right before the door opened. Now he just shook his head, his grip relaxing around the pen.