‘I had a wonderful dream. A handsome rake scrambled up the wisteria and did unspeakably shocking things to me.’
‘That same rake had better climb back down it swiftly before your fearsome butler wakes up and relieves him of his teeth.’ Dodging Stevens had become considerably more problematic and the fellow had taken to glaring at him through menacingly narrowed eyes whenever he came to officially call. Hal had a sneaking suspicion he knew full well what the pair of them were up to. Knew full well, but was biding his time.
‘Surely you can spare me half an hour?’
Another goodbye. Instead of grinding his teeth in irritation, Hal kissed her.
* * *
An hour later she had lost the watery glimmer of martyrdom he kept seeing in her lovely cornflower eyes—he had seen to that—and barely had the strength to wave him farewell as he gingerly lowered himself from the window.
The north! Hal wanted to shake her.
‘This came for you.’ Panic made him fall the last five feet and he landed with a painful thud on his bottom at Stevens’s feet. The giant butler unceremoniously thrust a note in his face. ‘One of your Bow Street Runners tracked you here just after midnight. I didn’t want to embarrass Lady Elizabeth by bringing it in.’
Pride made Hal stand before he took the letter. The seal was broken. ‘You opened my private correspondence?’
‘You seduced Lady Elizabeth.’ The butler’s face was deadpan, but his nostrils still flared. ‘They’ve found him.’
The knots in his gut Hal had carried around for close to a fortnight suddenly loosened despite being caught red-handed, practically in flagrante. ‘Where?’
‘Seven Dials. The Runners are waiting outside where he is. I presumed you wanted to speak to them first.’
‘I do!’ Hal was already striding across the lawn. Perhaps it would be better if he sprinted home first? Quicker, certainly with...
‘I’ve already got two horses waiting. I’m coming with you.’
‘Suit yourself.’ Having the ham-fisted brick wall next to him when he confronted Rainham the snake would be beneficial. ‘But I do the talking.’
‘Are you going to do right by her?’
‘I’m determined to damned well marry her, Stevens!’
‘Then I’ll let you do the talking.’
Thanks to the horses and the fact the blanket of snow which had suffocated the city now resembled a lace shawl, the main roads were blessedly clear and empty as the sun began to rise. However, there was not enough ice to mask the stench of the seething, reeking cess pool of Seven Dials. The natural habitat for a rat like Rainham. They met two Runners dressed in inconspicuous rags loitering outside a tatty-looking brothel. The dissolute Marquess was blissfully oblivious to their presence or that Hal was about to ruin his day.
By all accounts, a man matching Rainham’s description was upstairs. He had been there since before Christmas, when his aged companion had paid in advance for him to stay for the next fortnight before disappearing in a ‘fancy carriage’ and hadn’t been seen since. He had also promised to pay the proprietor handsomely to keep the gentleman entertained and his presence a secret. Because Hal had given the Runners carte blanche to bribe whoever and however they saw fit, the proprietor was most accommodating, even going as far as directing them to the bedchamber. Real coin always trumped a flimsy promise. More proof that Hal’s father might have been right about the world and coin after all, although hardly a surprise here in Seven Dials, where poverty ruled and money was everything.
Hal did not bother knocking on the door. He strode in, with the beefy Stevens hot on his heels, then stood impassively as the two lightskirts were hastily pushed aside and Georgie’s vile father pulled the sheets up to cover his nakedness. Clearly Ockendon had the measure of his accomplice to bring him here, where there was plenty to occupy someone with Rainham’s debauched tastes.
‘If you would excuse us, please, ladies.’ He flicked two coins in their direction and waited for them to exit the room. Neither bothered dressing. They merely bundled their tangled clothes up and brazenly sauntered to the door, one winking at Hal saucily in invitation. The butler closed it with deliberate slowness, then scraped a chair across the bare wooden floor and placed it in front of it, then sat, blocking the Marquess’s only escape route. He folded his arms and glared menacingly at Rainham, who looked ready to launch himself out of the single grubby window at the first viable opportunity. Hal found himself amused at the sight.
‘We are three floors up, so jump out of that window if you are of a mind to. I shan’t stop you. In fact, I believe I would find a great deal of pleasure seeing your broken body on the road below.’
Rainham swallowed nervously, his frightened eyes flicking between Hal’s and his giant companion’s. ‘What do you want?’
‘I think you know... Deep down.’ Because it felt like the right thing to do, Hal reached down and slid his boot knife out of his Hessian. A knife which he had only used twice. Once to cut up an orange and once to slice through the impossibly knotted laces of a lusty widow’s corset—but Rainham had no idea Hal had no appetite for violence. Usually. Knowing what the snake had done to Lizzie made the thought of it significantly more tempting than it had ever been. He smiled smugly as Rainham’s eyes focused on the sharp blade, then casually used the tip of his knife to clean some imaginary dirt from under his fingernails. ‘You’ve been talking, it seems, to your new friend and benefactor Lord Ockendon. Telling him things that are not true. Spreading lies... Malicious lies. Isn’t that right?’
‘I didn’t lie.’ But the man blanched as he spoke, his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly as he gulped in air. ‘I promise you I didn’t lie.’
‘That’s a shame. If you are loyal to Ockendon, then you are of no use to me. Or anyone, for that matter.’
Rainham’s mouth opened and closed, then opened again, much like a reeled salmon fighting death. ‘I—I d-don’t understand.’ Hal turned the knife so that the weak morning light caught the blade. Smiled. ‘Are you going to k-kill me?’ The snake’s voice was satisfyingly high. ‘You can’t kill me for telling the truth!’
The attempt at retaliation was wasted. His eyes were darting around, seeking a way out, and beads of damning perspiration were gathering on his pale skin. Poor Rainham. He was about to discover how talented Hal was at calling a man’s bluff. A skill he had honed to perfection out of necessity to block his father. Just like his father, the Marquess of Rainham was trying to bully a woman.
Lizzie.
A woman who had been hurt enough.
He allowed the anger to ferment in his gut for a few moments before answering and found an odd satisfaction in it.
‘Do you know, old boy, I rather think I am. Look at where we are. Slap, bang in the middle of the biggest haven of criminals and ne’er-do-wells in the whole of London. You could not have picked a place more suitable to my purpose if you’d tried. Thank you for that. Makes everything so much simpler.’ The Marquess baulked and looked ready to cry. For good measure, Stevens stood and quietly flexed his fingers as if he had been brought here specifically to deal with the murdered corpse, lest the blood marred Hal’s fine coat.
‘If you turn up here, gutted like a fish, the residents will deny any knowledge of what happened. That is the way of things when everyone is as lawless as their neighbours. The horrendous poverty serves to make the people here ruthless. They sold you down the river for a few coins.’
Rainham gulped and the last of the air came out of his lungs in a whimper. Hal nearly had him. The man was so weak-willed, so desperate to save his own sorry skin he would be easy to completely break. What the hell had Lizzie ever seen in him?
‘We will not be disturbed, by the way. The landlady was most accommodating when she learned exactly who I was and...of course... I am very, very rich.’ Hal paused to allow his words to s
ink in, pressed his advantage when he saw realisation dawn. ‘Tell me—who will mourn your passing in the ton? Your reputation proceeds you, as far as those who remember you are concerned, that is. You have been gone such a long time I doubt many will notice your passing...and as far as I can ascertain, your only friend in the world is that toad Ockendon and I can assure you he is next on my list. Whatever nonsense he has planned will be ruthlessly nipped in the bud. Of that you can be quite certain. With Lizzie’s powerful family connections staunchly on my side, my fat purse and sudden determined appetite for vengeance, you don’t stand a chance. So be a good boy and tell me what I want to hear. It really is your only chance of walking out of here alive.’ The little colour remaining drained out of Rainham’s face, so Hal paused for a heartbeat. ‘Did I mention I will double whatever Ockendon promised you? And pay your passage to the Americas so you can start afresh.’
Snakes were so predictable. ‘It wasn’t my idea! I fully intended on keeping to the bargain I made with Lizzie’s father. I knew Aylesbury would kill me if I dared to set one foot back in town.’
‘Then why did you?’
Rainham gulped. ‘Ockendon rescued me. Informed me that Aylesbury was dead. Said I would be safe. Said he would keep me safe if I helped him.’
‘So you gave him information he could use to blackmail Lizzie. A woman you claimed to have loved.’ Hal could not disguise the acid in his tone or the raw hatred in his eyes. To his credit, Hal noticed Stevens wore exactly the same expression. The world might run on coin, but it couldn’t buy loyalty. True loyalty had to be earned and he was suddenly grateful she had this big brute in her corner, protecting her.
‘I feel bad about that. I really do... But I had people after me, baying for blood, and there was so many stipulations and caveats on the marriage settlements. The Earl of Upminster had insisted upon them. It forced me to—’
‘Steal away the Duke of Aylesbury’s daughter instead because she had a fatter purse and no such caveats. This I know, Rainham. I also know you failed in that endeavour, too, and it doesn’t do anything to make me feel any more lenient towards you.
The dissolute Marquess appeared to shrink as he drew his legs up and his white knuckles clutched ineffectually against the blanket. Hal was happy to let the weasel squirm and sat quietly. Waiting.
‘She let me seduce her!’
Like a true snake he was blaming Lizzie rather than himself. ‘What a bad girl...’ His voice dripped venom. ‘To allow herself to be seduced by such an accomplished and seasoned despoiler. You must be right. It was all her fault. Your part in the proceedings was insignificant.’ Hal could picture the scene. A younger, trusting, more innocent Lizzie, bowled over by Rainham’s practised charm. ‘How old was she back then, Rainham? Eighteen? Barely out of the schoolroom. You had a decade of experience on her and you promised her marriage?’ The temptation to drag the man out of the bed and choke the life from him was difficult to ignore. But he had to.
‘You have to understand—’ Hal ruthlessly cut him off with his hand.
‘I understand. I understand perfectly. Be under no illusion, Rainham, that I hate you, I want to kill you for what you did to her, and would happily tear you limb from limb if you ever malign her or gossip about her or her family again! Right now, I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. What. Ever. It. Takes. Once this is done, know that you will die if you ever set foot on these shores again or so much as speak her name. Do you understand!’
‘Y-yes!’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘I don’t believe it! The blighter has won again.’ Her father threw down his hand of cards in disgust.
‘Believe,’ said Aaron matter-of-factly. ‘The blighter has the luck of the devil.’
They were wiling away time until the guests arrived for the Annual Twelfth Night Ball—a Redbridge tradition and one Hal’s mother was beyond excited about. For the first time in ten days they were not in Grosvenor Square, but Berkeley Square, and for the first time in Georgie’s young life he was spending the night in a house not belonging to her father. He had been having so much fun with Prudence and Grace that Lizzie had relented and allowed him to spend the night of the ball in the nursery in Hal’s house with his boisterous new friends. He deserved it. Tomorrow her son would have to say a final farewell to the girls and his grandpa as they finally travelled north. A journey which had lost much of its appeal now that she also had to say goodbye to Hal—and one which might be very short lived if she had to marry the man she despised.
Hal, on the other hand, did not appear perturbed by her imminent departure at all. In fact, he had been a positive joy since his return on Christmas Eve. Thanks to the Hal and the Stuart–Wincanton clan, Georgie had enjoyed the best Christmas Day of his life. Aside from her little boy’s euphoria at a whole army of lead soldiers, she had never heard him laugh so much. From the moment he’d arrived back mid-morning, Hal had taken charge of the children’s entertainments and the children. For at least two hours, he organised a fearsome war between the brave and noble British and the cheese-making Frenchies, culminating in the epic Battle of the Persian Rug which everyone was commandeered to join. Hal, typically, cast himself as Wellington and forced his sister Connie to be Napoleon. Georgie controlled the Highlanders, Aaron the cavalry and her dear papa controlled the English cannons. Prudence and Grace, as hellions-in-training, were given the challenge of being the enemy as a test of their resourcefulness. Lizzie was also a Frenchie as she was a girl. Despite their best efforts, Wellington was victorious and Napoleon—or rather Connie—was ceremonially rolled up in the rug as a punishment for trying to take over the world. The children had all slept in the nursery with Georgie after collapsing from exhaustion. All three slept with smiles on their faces. Smiles Hal had put there.
Hal had since become a constant companion during the days, where he entertained the children and led them astray, and an ardent and passionate lover every night when he climbed the wisteria and stayed till dawn. He made no mention of their parting. The pair of them talked about the here and now rather than the future. The one time Lizzie had tentatively suggested he might come to visit them occasionally, so that their final goodbye was not final and that their impossible love affair might continue temporarily if he ever ventured north, his dark eyebrows had drawn together and he had swiftly changed the subject. That reaction, and the fact that he had made no attempt to renew his proposal—not that she would have said yes—probably said it all. Theirs was a transient, mutually beneficial relationship as per the terms of their original bargain and he had gone above and beyond. That had to be enough.
‘I am surrounded by sore losers.’ Hal stretched like a cat and gathered up the pile of coins in the middle of the card table. For some reason, he was wearing the same sorry-looking sprig of mistletoe which had adorned his lapel since the ill-fated Danbury house party. The one sad white berry was all shrivelled and deflated, yet he had a habit of touching it reverently whenever he was sat near his brother-in-law. ‘Can I help it if fortune favours the brave?’
‘My lord.’ The Stuarts’ austere butler interrupted. ‘You have a visitor. The Earl of Ockendon. He insists you sent for him.’
Lizzie’s spirits plunged. Although she had known this confrontation was due to happen tonight, she was not prepared to have it now. So early. When she was trying to enjoy her last night with Hal and desperately trying to pretend nothing was wrong, but apparently the ever-confident Hal had summoned him.
‘Indeed. Show him in!’ Hal was clearly eager to get the deed done but, like Lizzie, the rest of the family were suddenly all subdued.
Ockendon strode into the room with a face like thunder, still wearing his coat and clutching his hat. ‘Where is he?’
Hal stood, ignoring the hostile tone, and inclined his head like the most gracious of hosts. ‘If it is your puppet Rainham you are enquiring about, I am delighted to tell you
he is safely hidden and happy to be so.’ He turned and smiled at her shocked face, enjoying his surprise announcement immensely.
‘You found him.’ Her face, her limbs, were all frozen. All Lizzie could think was, I don’t have to marry Ockendon! The relief robbed her of breath and she gripped the back of the chair. He’d done it. Hal had saved her. Just as he had said he would.
‘Of course I found him!’ Hal turned back towards Ockendon. ‘And my Lord Rainham was most accommodating.’
‘You think you are very clever, don’t you, Redbridge.’ Spittle sprayed out of the Earl’s mouth as he snarled. ‘But I have his sworn and signed testimony which will call you both liars!’ He spun and started towards the door.
Hal sat, elegantly adjusting the fabric of his trousers as if he cared about the lay of the fabric, and crossed one long leg over the other. It was such an impressive sight to see. ‘About that... I’m not sure how to break this to you, old boy, but I am going to require that document.’
‘You say that as if you hold all the cards, Redbridge, when we both know I have the means to destroy the entire fêted Wilding family in one fell swoop.’ For the first time, Ockendon’s gaze took in the rest of the room, his cold eyes settling determinedly on Lizzie. ‘Are you going to sit here and watch this buffoon make idle threats to your betrothed on your behalf? Be warned, madam, you will pay for every slight.’
Lizzie went to speak, only to feel Connie’s hand on her arm. ‘Let my brother deal with him. Hal obviously has the situation well in hand.’ And apparently, nobody else, her own father included, appeared to want to contradict this statement.
‘If you say one thing to malign Lizzie, her father or her son, I will happily destroy you.’ Hal’s voice was icy calm. His eyes colder. ‘The Marquess of Rainham will not testify against Lord Upminster. In fact, he is now of the earnest belief he put himself on the boat bound for Botany Bay to escape the tangled mess he had made of his life. If you use that testimony, he will stand in the witness box and say you obtained it under duress, when he was out of his wits in a stinking gaol, and that you told him exactly what to write in order to blackmail the Wildings.’
His Mistletoe Wager Page 22
