Jack's Hellion

by Eliza Lloyd

  “Not enough. Tiny may pay you the required footing, but she don’t listen to a word you say.”

  McGreggor’s face darkened, his charming smile frozen in place. “What do you mean?”

  Imo turned her face to stare at him. What did she have to lose in telling him? “Tiny and her henchmen are the reason I had to leave. She tried to kidnap me once and succeeded a second time in spite of your words I was to be left alone.” The Scot needed to know. Who knew what else Tiny was doing without the Scot’s approval? He controlled the illegal trades around Twenty Acres and wouldn’t like it that he had a wayward business partner.

  “I’ll take care of it, hen. You won’t have a thing to worry about from her, that I promise.”

  Imo didn’t want to know what that meant, but her imagination could supply details best left unspoken. They’d put bodies in the Thames. She doubted he left a body around to be identified.

  “Tiny’s the reason Frank’s at Newgate. Frank killed one of her men.”

  McGreggor’s eyes squinted hard. “I’d heard he got pinched for murder. The fellow was one of Tiny’s?”

  “Yes.” Imogene’s stare turned to a pleading look that might soften McGreggor. She reached for him and grabbed his forearm. “Can you do something for Frank? Do you know anyone who can help free him? I’d do anything if you could help him.”

  “Anything, Imogene?” Jack’s words sounded hard and angry near her ear.

  She turned quickly, stumbling backward into Vernon. “I didn’t know you were back.”

  “And who is the gentleman?” Jack’s gaze scanned the hardened Scot.

  The Scot’s look held nothing but contempt for the well-dressed peacock.

  “Jack, this is Mr. McGreggor. I knew him from before.”

  Jack didn’t look at her. He stared hard at McGreggor. “Well? Can you do anything to assist a lady in distress?”

  McGreggor clucked his tongue. “Once in Newgate, he’s as good as dead. Don’t know if I ever heard of a man escaping the noose once convicted.”

  The words pierced her—a truth she did not want to acknowledge. She had been holding out for the impossible in spite of what Jack had already done.

  Jack gripped her elbow. “It’s time to go.” He glared at Vernon, a reminder that he’d disobeyed Jack’s order. Vernon opened the carriage door.

  “Remember my offer, Imogene,” McGreggor said as Jack followed her in the carriage, his hands at her waist as he lifted her when she was perfectly able to step inside.

  With a shout from above and a slap of reins against the horses’ rumps, the carriage moved away from the docks. Jack removed his hat and threw it on the seat next to her. He sat, jaw clenched, staring at her.

  “How was your business?” she asked. She sat primly, gazing at him, knowing she wore a ridiculous expression of devotion. She didn’t know how to paste on an expression like Mrs. Holland wore when she was trying to get her way.

  “It was as you said regarding D’Abner. I’ll see him later in the week at Deptford.”

  “Good.” She pressed her lips together. At her side, her fingers slid through the folds of her dress. Jack’s anger burned between them. She thought he was angrier about McGreggor than about her being out of the carriage.

  “It didn’t mean nothing, Jack.”

  “When my mistress offers ‘anything’ to a man, it means something. You’re mine, Imogene. You need to remember that.”

  “I didn’t mean anything. I meant—”

  “And what exactly was the offer he pressed upon you with such urgency?”

  Imogene tried to control her own anger. Jack was right, but that didn’t make her feel better about his accusations, not when there really wasn’t any substance to her words or McGreggor’s offer.

  “His offer is for after.” She rolled her eyes at his impatience and anger.

  “After what?”

  “After you’re done with me.”

  He leaned forward and braced his arms on his knees. “My God, Imogene. Do you think I went to all the trouble of securing your future at the bank this morning so you had to go to a man like him after I get married? I did it so you would never have to depend upon another. So you could make your own decisions and not service any arse that walked through your door.” He blew out a steadying breath and then turned his face toward the window and the passing scenery.

  “It’s just the way we talk down here,” she said.

  “Well, he heard something else. He’s a man. He heard what I heard, of that I have no doubt. How do you know him?”

  “He runs the area. If you want to do business, he has to approve it. He’s the one we paid a footing to when we started the business on Cable Street.”

  “Business?” Jack scoffed. “And did he ever touch you?”

  “Jack.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes. My tit...my breasts, when I thought I was going to have to work for him.”

  “How could you?”

  “You did worse. Don’t go blamin’ him for something he just wanted but you were only too happy to take.”

  “I didn’t take.”

  “Didn’t you? Didn’t you know that I was poor, without protection? Didn’t you know that showin’ me a palm full of your shiny money was the same as being forced?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Is that how you feel now? That I’m forcing you?”

  “I told you I love you. I meant it. I like being with you.”

  He laughed. “Careful, Imogene. We both know you don’t love me. But you are starting to sound like one of those whores that say anything to get what they want.”

  Imogene’s temper flared. Without thought, she lashed out and slapped the side of his face. She gasped and pressed both hands to her mouth. Words failed her. How could she be so ungrateful?

  He grabbed her wrists and after several long moments of tension, he said, “Promise me right now, you will not go to that man for any reason. He’ll use you and throw you to the gutter. Promise me now.”

  “I promise.”

  * * * * *

  Two nights later, Charlie and Imogene snuck out of Jack’s house around midnight. Dressed in her boy clothes, she slipped into her role with an ease she found surprising and comforting. She did like the new corset which wasn’t too uncomfortable and kept her from bouncing around inside her shirt, and it was better than the tight bindings she had used. Still, with hunched shoulders and a meandering gait, she was totally ignored as the two of them walked into the night.

  Jack was with Catherine tonight and Imogene burned with jealousy.

  “Where are we going?” Charlie asked.

  “To some fancy house in Mayfair.”

  “Why? I just walked through Mayfair to get here.”

  “Because I want to see Jack’s fiancée.” Every night he spent with her made Imogene just a little more jealous and a little more driven to see what the woman was like. Jack wouldn’t talk about her. Catherine. Imogene would never be like her, of course, but she just wanted to know what it was that Jack found so appealing. He’d never said a word against her, but she got the feeling he wasn’t keen on marrying.

  One of those absurd hopes she nursed in her heart about keeping Jack had flitted through her mind again. Sometimes Jack made her feel as though she were someone else. Someone he enjoyed being with and was worthy of his company. When he spoke to her, Jack’s gaze never wavered in boredom or superiority. On the other hand, she didn’t know if it was a compliment that he said he was always entertained when he was with her.

  And when he wanted her in bed, she never felt like a whore or a mistress or anything but someone Jack could love.

  Maybe seeing Jack with Catherine together would keep Imo’s role clear.

  Her questions about his future wife always went unanswered. Maybe that was why Imo had an acute need to know that woman would take care of him. That she loved Jack as much as Imo did.

  “This is it.”
Darkness hid their furtive movements as they stood in the shadow of a large manse across from the lighted Teesboro Mansion. Everyone knew where the nobility lived, even if one were a lowly thief or an insignificant orphan.

  “How do we get in?”

  “We ain’t going in. Come on.” She batted the back of her hand against his chest. “Let’s go around. Maybe we can see better.”

  They edged around the line of carriages and shuffled along a thick, rock wall until they were no longer exposed by light seeping from the mansion windows. Sounds of laughter and music wafted over the wall and into the dark night, striking a melancholic chord inside her chest.

  She did not want this life, Jack’s life. Yes, she wanted a better one, but not this pomp and glitter and pretense. They were just as trapped in their surroundings as she was. Couldn’t there be something in between? Like a life that included food every day and where a woman could make a few pennies a day without spreading her legs?

  “Here,” she whispered. Several trees grew up on both sides of the wall. “Follow me up.”

  Before Imo could get a hand on the second branch, Charlie had already swung a foot onto the thick wall.

  “Get down before they see you.” She could see him clear as day with the light reflecting off him. He went to his knees and then crawled toward the overhanging limbs of another tree.

  Imo met him there a minute later. Hunched and quiet, they waited.

  Their perch overlooked the back of the house where several doors were flung open to allow the night air to circulate inside. The music was louder and more haunting. Several very finely dressed ladies and gentlemen stood near the doors, but some of the dancers were visible as they swirled and floated past the windows.

  “What if you don’t see him?” Charlie whispered.

  “Shhh. We will.”

  The air was cool against her skin, but inside she burned with a desire to be the woman standing at the door, cooling her face with a white lace fan. Her dress was blue like the sky and her hair hung in long blonde curls down to her shoulders. Imo imagined she stood there and the man laughing with her was Jack. When the fancy nob lifted her hand to his lips, Imo’s own hand tingled.

  Entranced, her hungry gazed flitted from couple to couple and back again. A melancholic need seeped into her bones. She knew better than to let Jack invade her life, and what had she done? Just let herself fall in love as if it were right and natural.

  But it wasn’t. Every beat of her heart told her loving him was wrong and in the end, she would be the one hurt because of it. He belonged to Catherine, not her.

  He would never belong to her.

  “I’m tired. Can’t we leave now?”

  “No.” Not until she saw Jack. Not until she saw his fiancée. Not until she saw them together.

  Imo knew this life wasn’t for her and all she had feared about leaving her soul behind was true. The hunger to be somebody would never be satisfied and the ephemeral life, glittering and twirling in front of her, only made the pangs of want sharper. Even Jack couldn’t give her that gift. No one could. Best she didn’t desire anything at all, then she’d never be disappointed.

  At the sudden sight of Jack, she held her breath. Charlie grabbed her sleeve and tugged.

  “I see him,” she answered absently.

  Jack escorted Catherine on to the balcony and then down the wide stone steps into the lighted garden. Who else could it be? He’d gone to the ball to be with his fiancée. She could see Jack’s face turned toward Catherine, but she could only hear the whisper of words, not what he actually said. Catherine’s laugh was like a tinkling bell, all cheery and sweet. Her dress nearly glowed, it was so white.

  “She looks like an angel,” Charlie whispered.

  Charlie saw angels everywhere. His statement wasn’t a help and Imo didn’t want to agree with him. Even from their perch and in the dim garden light, Catherine was beautiful. They sat very properly on a bench that was only partially visible from the door. Another couple walked on the other side of the garden.

  She saw Jack glance their way.

  Jack’s arm was braced behind Catherine’s back as he faced her. Imo pressed her lips together knowing that as she watched, he would kiss her—the other woman. The woman who would have him forever.

  She needed to see this. She needed to know that when Jack left her, he would go to something wonderful. That the arms around him and the body he held loved only him.

  He whispered something else to Catherine and Imo watched as his hand caressed her neck. He bent slowly, her face turned up. Waiting. Imo waited a thousand lifetimes as she prepared to see him kiss his betrothed.

  Imo stopped breathing. She didn’t blink and her eyes grew dry as she stared.

  Catherine demurely turned her face away from his kiss. Jack didn’t seem to mind and he whispered something near her ear.

  Her hand slipped up his leg, but his hand lowered over hers. Imo heard him say, “We’d better go inside.”

  As soon as they were at a set of wide doors, Charlie asked, “Can we go now?”

  “Just hush. We haven’t been here that long.” Imo wasn’t sure her legs would support her weight.

  “I just heard the bells toll one.”

  “Not yet,” she insisted. “Can’t you pray or something?”

  “I’m too tired to pray.”

  Jack and Catherine stood together behind a glass window. Her hand lay over Jack’s arm. Imo watched as several people stopped to chat with Jack and Catherine until finally a man took Catherine to the dance floor. Jack pulled out his timepiece.

  Imo couldn’t decide. Was Jack extremely happy or hiding some secret? He stood tense and watchful.

  Other couples took a turn down the steps and through the garden. Imo didn’t care about any of them. Jack waited for a long time, people milling about him, circling and talking, all the while he looked toward the dance floor and finally, he disappeared from Imo’s view.

  Everything had settled firmly and clearly in her mind. Catherine would win him in the end, but Imo would love him while she was with him, and then she would let loose when it was required of her. Their arrangement was all about business, after all. Just business. She didn’t have to let the inevitable get in the way of the joy of today.

  Tomorrow, the future, would be something else entirely. Maybe she could love someone other than Jack, but she knew she would never love Jack less because of it.

  The dreamy vision of Jack with Catherine was like living the beginning of a story that would have a fairy-tale ending. Except Imogene’s part in the story was no different than black smudges on the pages of a pristine manuscript.

  The music had stopped. Imo wondered if the party was at last over, but everyone still milled around inside. Maybe they were eating from a long buffet of fancy food.

  She nudged Charlie, who lay face-down on the wide rock wall enclosing the garden. “Party’s over. Time to go.”

  “’Bout time.” He rubbed his eyes. “See what you wanna see?”

  “Enough. You go first.” Imo felt the weakness a lack of sleep brought on, her eyelids drooped and legs ached. Inside, her mind hadn’t stopped churning and the sight of Jack with another woman left a deep ache in her heart. Of all that she had seen and wanted tonight, only Jack mattered to her. The newfound longing for material things paled in comparison to her desire for him.

  Scraping along, Charlie grabbed the tree branch, which creaked under his weight. When Charlie gave the all clear, Imo scooted off the perch and reached for a sturdy limb. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a couple entering the garden. The whiteness of Catherine’s dress caught her attention first.

  Imo held back an envious sigh.

  Seeing Jack in this environment was a sharp reminder of her position in his life. She fully expected to see Jack holding her again, except the man on Catherine’s arm wasn’t Jack. Imo gripped the branch, moving it slightly to see more of the couple.

  “Come on, Imogene,” Charlie whi
spered from below.

  “Wait,” she whispered. She waved her hand, trying to tell him to stay still, but didn’t take her gaze from the pair as they walked farther into the dark confines of the garden. Small hairs on her neck prickled. She shivered.

  The couple strolled very near the wall and she could see them clearly below her. Shiffington held Jack’s fiancée in his arms. Jack’s friend.

  “Catherine, break the engagement. Enough of this farce. Jack will never love you as I do.”

  Catherine wrapped her arms around Shiffington’s neck, pressing her body fully against his. They kissed.

  Imo heard the sounds of their open-mouthed slobbering and the ruffling of skirts. She couldn’t drag her eyes away. The beautiful Lady Catherine, exalted and revered as the perfect woman, fell from Imogene’s graces. The bitch.

  “Meet me somewhere. Let me love you as you need to be loved,” he said.

  Imogene thought she’d puke, right after she screamed. How could one woman be so stupid? Shiffington over Jack Davenport? Hadn’t she seen it a hundred times? Two desperate barmaids fighting over the same worthless drunk? Only this was more disgusting. Jack was a prize. Those two ingrates deserved each other.

  “You know I cannot. Just hold me. I do not want to imagine holding that awful, scarred man, but somehow I must. I can only bear it knowing you love me.”

  “My family has money.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa says it is nothing compared to Davenport’s. And he will have the title.”

  “That could be years away, if ever.”

  The conversation stopped when Shiffington kissed her again. Hot indignation welled up in Imo’s chest. How could Catherine do that to Jack?

  “We have to go,” Catherine said before Shiffington released his grip. They murmured a few more words before they broke apart.

  When they turned away, Imogene grabbed at the tree branch and lowered her legs over the wall. She dropped, crouching as she landed. Her ears burned. The back of her throat was dry and tight, but swallowing didn’t help.

  Imo’s heartache didn’t matter. What would Jack have to endure married to a woman who didn’t love him? A woman who would hate his touch? “Bitch, bitch, bitch,” she said to herself. Jack’s long-faded scars were nothing, and no reason for a betrothed to reject him.