At first Luther had worked alone, as Ricky had been too frail. They’d found shelter in an old cowshed for the first few weeks, moving later to an old rotting barge, abandoned further up the shore. Now, the other Mudlarks had accepted them, knowing Luther was too tough to be dissuaded and that they’d only get a bloody nose, or worse, for their troubles. Even when the summer Mudlarks had appeared, girls too then, with their skirts trailing in the mud, no one dared to try and frighten Luther off, his reputation was too dangerous.
Once the basket was full, they hauled it back to the barge and Luther fetched a pail of water to wash their legs and feet. Not that they ever came clean, the water was filthy before they’d ever got near it and the dirt too ingrained on their skin to ever lose the dingy grey tinge again. Luther despised it. The stench of the river lingered in his nostrils.
A few weeks ago, they’d been walking the streets in the twilight of the evening. Their bellies had been pleasantly full, and two glasses of beer had given them a sense of mellow content. An elegant couple had moved past them, and the boys had stopped to gawp in awe. The pair had been dressed in what Luther supposed was the height of fashion. The woman’s skin had gleamed with the health of youth, as pink and perfect as a new-born’s. Her clothes had been pristine, perfect, and her scent … Luther had tried to recapture her scent at night as he lay in his bed. He didn’t know what it was other than it spoke of wealth and a life of clean sheets and full stomachs.
A fierce longing for such a life had sparked in his guts, along with a determination that he’d escape the sucking, clawing mud of the Thames, just as he had the work-house. He wouldn’t let it drag him and Ricky down into its hellish depths. He would scrape and scratch a path out with his bare hands. They’d escape, to better things, as soon as an opportunity presented itself.
As it happened, fate was listening.
They’d eaten as much as the day’s earnings would provide for them, even managing a shilling’s worth of cheese to go with their bread. Despite having his hunger sated, Luther was still edgy when they returned to the abandoned barge. Ricky collapsed onto the pile of rags that served as his bed and within moments was sound asleep. His soft snores echoed about the ragged hull and Luther huffed, irritated for no good reason.
Restless, he got to his feet and headed back outside. It was late September, and even over the stench of the river Luther could scent autumn on the air, the sweeter smell of decaying leaves and the darkening days announcing that winter would be upon them soon enough. His guts clenched at the idea of the freezing days and nights to come. God, what wouldn’t he give to have a proper roof over his head and a hearth to sit beside on a cold night?
The tide was out and the acres of mud alongside the tidal river gleamed darkly in the moonlight. The great ships that lined the busy waterway two deep on either side of the river, lurched sideways in their murky beds. Luther walked the marshy banks, feeling small and alone under a sky that he feared could smother him like an inky black coat. He still hated the dark, but it was better outside than in the confines of that blasted barge.
Every now and then he’d hear the call of a sailor aboard one of the ships. The poor bastards that had drawn the short straw and had to stand guard over cargo, cursing their comrades over at Southwark tucked up snug with the whores and drinking themselves insensible.
Luther tensed as another sound caught his ear. Movement in the marshes, the rustle of grass not made by the wind, but by men. He swung around, poised to run as pitch-black shapes emerged out of the night like dark crabs, low and scuttling. Too late a large hand covered his mouth and the scent of rum and smoke and working man filled his overworked senses.
“Hush, ye, now my brave laddie,” the man said, his voice low and amused. “I have a job for you if you be willin’ to earn yourself an honest wage?”
Some fellow guffawed and was silenced, by an elbow, if the dull thunk Luther heard was anything to go on.
Luther nodded, his heart beating hard in his chest. The large hand removed itself from his mouth and he turned to see a stocky man of average height. His hair was dark, but with a shock of white at one temple. Luther didn’t find that sight quite as remarkable as the gleaming silver sixpence that was held between the man’s finger and thumb. It shone like a tiny moon in the large, scarred hand as he waved it back and forth in a hypnotic manner.
“One now, another when I return, if you stand and keep an eye out for the watermen. I’m short o’ men tonight and need all my hands to carry goods.”
Luther didn’t need asking twice. He and Ricky had earned sixpence on a good day once or twice. Twice that much for standing and watching the water …
“You can depend on me, sir,” he said, reaching for the coin.
It was swiftly snatched from his reach, the fellow giving him a narrow-eyed look. “Can I?” he asked, the words sending something of a shiver running down Luther’s spine. “Cause if I can’t, I’ll hunt you down and they’ll be nothing left for the rats to gnaw on once I’m done.”
Luther stared back at him, his gaze steady. There was amusement in the fellow’s eyes and Luther had heard worse and had to run from men who looked a deal more depraved than this man, coarse as he was.
“I fear no rats, sir, and you need not fear my betrayal. I never break my word, once given.”
There was a low chuckle and the man nodded. “Here you go then, young varmint. We’ll be back within half an hour, I expect you to yell long and loud if you see those buggers rowing up the river.”
“You’ll hear me,” Luther promised, feeling the silver coin between his fingers with a little skip of pleasure in his heart.
Luther watched, intrigued as the river pirates waded into the mud and out to one of the listing boats. Silent and deadly, they scaled the slippery flanks of the ship, agile as monkeys. As they disappeared over the sides all was quiet and still until a muffled shriek was heard and then a desperate series of thuds and scuffles.
The horizon was motionless as Luther watched, hearing his own breathing and the thud of his heart in the expectant darkness as the minutes slid past with the tainted river; the tide was turning. He was about to look back, aware the pirates were throwing down their haul into the mud beneath, when something caught his eye. He had to strain to see it, but then he saw it, the unmistakable silhouette of an open galley, rowed by four men with another at the helm. It disappeared for a moment beneath a rolling mist, but he knew what he’d seen.
Luther cupped his hands over his mouth. “Oy!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice carrying over the river. “Watermen!
For a split second it seemed as if everything froze, then the watermen shouted, having heard Luther, same as the pirates. The dark shapes cascaded back down the side of the ship as the watermen rowed like fury towards the violated ship.
For a moment, Luther stood, stupidly frozen as he watched the scene play out, almost as if he wasn’t a part of it, until a large hand shoved him forward. A shot exploded in the darkness.
“Run, you stupid bugger,” shouted the man who’d given him the sixpence.
It occurred to Luther that, not only did he not want to meet the watermen, but he’d not yet received his second payment. He took to his heels, shadowing the man who moved surprisingly fast considering his compact shape and the fact he was carrying a large wooden chest.
The gang split up, disappearing into the back alleys and filthy streets, but Luther stuck to his benefactor like glue, the older man no competition for a fellow so much younger and fitter.
“In here,” the fellow rasped, shoving open a heavy oak door on a narrow street. The street reeked of filth and desperation and Luther crashed in behind him, too eager to close the door on the stench.
His companion dropped the chest he was carrying and the chink of metal on metal sounded beneath the wooden sides.
“Good work, lad,” the fellow said, giving Luther a grin as he braced his arms on his knees, catching his breath. “I could use a fellow like you if y
ou want to earn your bread like a man instead of a pig, rooting in the dirt.”
Luther stiffened, his pride stinging at the insult. “You ain’t paid me for what I earned tonight, yet,” he observed. He folded his arms, staring at the pirate who was no taller than Luther but had the muscle and bulk of a man, not a boy. He’d not win a fight, but he might be able to outrun him. That chest had sounded to be full of … what? Gold? Silver? It wasn’t iron nails and rivets, that much was certain.
It was a tantalising idea. He could rent a room for the winter, keep him and Ricky warm and fed and off the streets. Out of that bloody leaky barge.
The fellow chuckled, a low sound of amusement that made the hairs on the back of Luther’s neck prickle.
“Aye, tempting ain’t it?” he said, something that might have been sympathy behind the words.
Before Luther could draw another breath to speak there was a knife at his throat.
“You lay your filthy paw on that chest, you even think of takin’ what’s mine, and I’ll gut you from neck to navel, my fine lad.”
Luther swallowed. The blade was cold against his flesh, fear a living thing clawing under his skin, yet he held still, didn’t flinch or beg, just stared back at the man, his face impassive. Never show fear, that much he’d learned many years ago. No fear, no remorse.
The pirate smiled, apparently pleased by his reaction. “Cold as ice,” he said as he removed the blade. “Aye, lad. I can use you. Here.” He held out another silver sixpence to Luther who snatched it from his hand with lightning speed.
“You want to earn more of those?” the fellow asked as Luther put some distance between them, edging closer to the door.
“Maybe,” he said, his expression hard and grudging, but unable to hide the curiosity and eagerness in his voice.
“Heard of the Black Rule have ye?”
Luther felt a shiver of something cold and yet fiery prickle over him. He’d been whipped with stinging nettles at the workhouse plenty of times and the sensation wasn’t dissimilar. Black Rule was a man and a law. They said not so much as a pocket was picked along the river without Black Rule knowing it and wanting his cut.
“I see you ‘ave.” Amusement laced that statement and Luther tried harder to keep his face a mask.
“What of it?” he demanded, striving for nonchalance when his heart was beating in his throat, making him feel sick.
“’Cause, ye young Tyburn blossom, you’re going to meet the Lord o’ London.”
Available on Amazon December 28, 2018
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About Me!
I started this incredible journey way back in 2010 with The Key to Erebus but didn’t summon the courage to hit publish until October 2012. For anyone who’s done it, you’ll know publishing your first title is a terribly scary thing! I still get butterflies on the morning a new title releases but the terror has subsided at least. Now I just live in dread of the day my daughters are old enough to read them.
The horror! (On both sides I suspect.)
2017 marked the year that I made my first foray into Historical Romance and the world of the Regency Romance, and my word what a year! I was delighted by the response to this series and can’t wait to add more titles. Paranormal Romance readers need not despair however as there is much more to come there too. Writing has become an addiction and as soon as one book is over I’m hugely excited to start the next so you can expect plenty more in the future.
As many of my works reflect I am greatly influenced by the beautiful French countryside in which I live. I’ve been here in the South West for the past twenty years though I was born and raised in England. My three gorgeous girls are all bilingual and the youngest who is only six, is showing signs of following in my footsteps after producing The Lonely Princess all by herself.
I’m told book two is coming soon ...
She’s keeping me on my toes, so I’d better get cracking!
KEEP READING TO DISCOVER MY OTHER BOOKS!
Other Works by Emma V. Leech
(For those of you who have read The French Fae Legend series, please remember that chronologically The Heart of Arima precedes The Dark Prince)
Rogues & Gentlemen
The Rogue
The Earl’s Temptation
Scandal’s Daughter
The Devil May Care
Nearly Ruining Mr. Russell
One Wicked Winter
To Tame a Savage Heart
Persuading Patience
The Last Man in London
Flaming June
Charity and the Devil
A Slight Indiscretion
The Corinthian Duke
The Blackest of Hearts (December 28, 2018)
The Regency Romance Mysteries
Dying for a Duke
A Dog in a Doublet
The Rum and the Fox
The French Vampire Legend
The Key to Erebus
The Heart of Arima
The Fires of Tartarus
The Boxset (The Key to Erebus, The Heart of Arima, The Fires of Tartarus)
The Son of Darkness (2018)
The French Fae Legend
The Dark Prince
The Dark Heart
The Dark Deceit
The Darkest Night
Short Stories: A Dark Collection.
Stand Alone
The Book Lover (a paranormal novella)
Interested in a Regency Romance with a twist ?
Dying for a Duke
The Regency Romance Mysteries Book 1
Straight-laced, imperious and morally rigid, Benedict Rutland - the darkly handsome Earl of Rothay - gained his title too young. Responsible for a large family of younger siblings that his frivolous parents have brought to bankruptcy, his youth was spent clawing back the family fortunes.
Now a man in his prime and financially secure he is betrothed to a strict, sensible and cool-headed woman who will never upset the balance of his life or disturb his emotions ...
But then Miss Skeffington-Fox arrives.
Brought up solely by her rake of a step-father, Benedict is scandalised by everything about the dashing Miss.
But as family members in line for the dukedom begin to die at an alarming rate, all fingers point at Benedict, and Miss Skeffington-Fox may be the only one who can save him.
FREE to read on Amazon Kindle Unlimited..Dying for a Duke
Lose yourself in Emma’s paranormal world with The French Vampire Legend series….. Book 1 is a FREE download on Amazon….
The Key to Erebus
The French Vampire Legend Book 1
The truth can kill you.
Taken away as a small child, from a life where vampires, the Fae, and other mythical creatures are real and treacherous, the beautiful young witch, Jéhenne Corbeaux is totally unprepared when she returns to rural France to live with her eccentric Grandmother.
Thrown headlong into a world she knows nothing about she seeks to learn the truth about herself, uncovering secrets more shocking than anything she could ever have imagined and finding that she is by no means powerless to protect the ones she loves.
Despite her Gran’s dire warnings, she is inexorably drawn to the dark and terrifying figure of Corvus, an ancient vampire and
master of the vast Albinus family.
Jéhenne is about to find her answers and discover that, not only is Corvus far more dangerous than she could ever imagine, but that he holds much more than the key to her heart …
FREE download
The Key to Erebus
Check out Emma’s exciting fantasy series with hailed by Kirkus Reviews as “An enchanting fantasy with a likable heroine, romantic intrigue, and clever narrative flourishes.”
The Dark Prince
The French Fae Legend Book 1
Two Fae Princes
One Human Woman
And a world ready to tear them all apart
Laen Braed is Prince of the Dark fae, with a temper and reputation to match his black eyes, and a heart that despises the human race. When he is sent back through the forbidden gates between realms to retrieve an ancient fae artifact, he returns home with far more than he bargained for.
Corin Albrecht, the most powerful Elven Prince ever born. His golden eyes are rumoured to be a gift from the gods, and destiny is calling him. With a love for the human world that runs deep, his friendship with Laen is being torn apart by his prejudices.
Océane DeBeauvoir is an artist and bookbinder who has always relied on her lively imagination to get her through an unhappy and uneventful life. A jewelled dagger put on display at a nearby museum hits the headlines with speculation of another race, the Fae. But the discovery also inspires Océane to create an extraordinary piece of art that cannot be confined to the pages of a book.
The Corinthian Duke Page 25
