by Shana Galen
“About me?”
“Yes, but more specifically about Withernsea. Once I mentioned that I had information about Withernsea, the prince gave me his full attention. I know Lord Jasper made you aware of how much the prince dislikes Withernsea. Not only has Withernsea denied the prince personal loans, he’s spoken out against the Regent’s largesse in the Lords. The duke has been a thorn in the Regent’s side for some time. He’d like to pluck it out, and you provide the perfect implement.”
“The Regent will help us then?”
Draven shrugged. “If he is able. He won’t stick his neck out. He’s a coward at heart. You understand that?”
She nodded. “So we need to make it easy for him.”
“As Lord Jasper suggested, you must expose Withernsea for what he is. There can be no doubt. This can’t be seen as political maneuvering by the prince. Withernsea has too many allies.”
“The extent of the duke’s abuse must be clear.”
“Crystal clear. Do you think you can manage to pry a confession from him?”
Olivia considered. The duke was careful. She’d thought back a thousand times to the night he’d raped her. Withernsea had planned it perfectly so as to make certain he was not caught, and if she accused him, she would be the one held at fault. But the duke was also a proud man, and undoubtedly when he arrived at her father’s house in the morning, ready to wed, only to find his bride had bolted, his pride would be nicked. Could she use that to her advantage? Did she have any choice?
“Well?” Draven asked.
“I have to do it,” she said. “For Richard’s sake.”
“Will you be able to face the duke? To stand up to him and to the censure you will receive if he admits what he’s done? It certainly isn’t fair, but Society almost always blames women as much, if not more, than men. They will say you lie or seduced him or said yes and then changed your mind and cried rape.”
“I know what they will say. All the matters to me is Richard.” And Jasper. But he knew the truth, and he wanted her anyway. Jasper believed her.
Draven gave her a long look. “I see Lord Jasper chose well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s obvious he cares for you, and I see why.”
Her cheeks flushed warmly.
“You’re braver than you look. What is that line from Shakespeare? And though she be but little, she is fierce.”
“I will protect my son.”
“And I will help you. Now, we’ll need paper and pen.” He crossed to a small desk and began rummaging through a drawer. “I’m no wordsmith, but together I believe we can craft a letter that will anger Withernsea just enough to cause him to act.”
“You want me to write to Withernsea?”
“We’ll have to decide on the exact words, but the gist of it shall be that if he wants to marry you, he must meet you and discuss your terms.” He laid a sheet of foolscap on the desk and motioned to her. “I’ll have one of my servants hire a boy to deliver it. The duke won’t know where you are hiding. We’ll time the delivery for just after he returns home from your father’s town house.”
Olivia felt her belly roll. “He won’t like that.”
“Good. The angrier he is, the less likely he will be to think before he speaks. But where to have you meet?”
“If the prince must overhear, then we must be where he is.”
“The Ashmont ball tomorrow then. The prince always attends. I’ll see about securing an invitation for us. But first, the letter for Withernsea.”
Olivia moved to the chair at the desk and dipped her quill in ink. “How shall I begin? To His Grace the Duke of Withernsea?”
“Oh, no. You will have pricked his pride by bolting from the wedding. Now we tweak his nose. My dearest Withernsea...”
Olivia raised a brow, but she put the pen to paper and wrote the words. She knew she played with fire, and she could only hope she would not be the one to be burned.
Twenty-Two
Jasper was in a foul mood. He’d spent the night in the rain. The skies had not cleared until dawn, and then it had taken most of the morning to walk to a posting house, have his horse reshod, and navigate the muddy roads into London. It was afternoon by the time he climbed the steps to Carlisle’s town house and slammed the knocker down three times.
He had the license. Now all he needed was Olivia and Richard.
Dimsdale opened the door and then began to close it again as soon as he saw Jasper standing on the stoop. Jasper understood the compulsion. He hadn’t wasted time stopping home to wash and change. When Olivia and Richard were safe, he would have time for such frivolities. Now all that mattered was making her his wife and making certain Withernsea could never touch her again.
And so when the butler tried to slam the door, Jasper stuck out a boot and wedged it open. “Not so fast, Dimsdale.”
“You are not welcome here, my lord.”
“Good, because I don’t intend to return.” He wedged his shoulder against the door and shoved until it opened and Dimsdale had no choice but to admit him. “Kindly fetch Master Richard and Miss Carlisle for me. Then you’ll never have to look on me again.”
“Thomas! William!” the butler called. Thundering footsteps made the house shake before two large footmen burst through the door to the servants’ stairs. Dimsdale pointed at Jasper. “Help Lord Jasper find his way out.”
Jasper was tired, hungry, and filthy, and that meant this was the perfect time for a fight. It had been months since he’d had a good fight. And these two liveried servants, in their brass buttons and knee breeches, were no match for the likes of the criminals Jasper dealt with daily in the London rookeries. So when the dark-haired one came for him, Jasper stepped neatly aside then turned and caught the man’s flailing arm, turned it behind his back, and jerked it high until he heard the pop.
Obviously, the butler and the blond footman heard it too, though the dark-haired footman was screaming quite loudly now. That didn’t stop the blond from attacking, although he was a bit more careful. He came at Jasper with his fists raised, throwing punches. Jasper wasn’t as good in the ring as his friend Ewan, but he knew how to fight on the streets. Jasper allowed the blond to land a punch that glanced off his cheek, so Jasper could move in close enough to land a hard kick to the man’s knee.
It was underhanded and ungentlemanly.
Jasper didn’t care.
When the man faltered, Jasper grasped his throat and slammed him against a wall so hard a painting on a nearby wall collapsed to the floor.
Then he turned to the butler. The man looked as though he might run, but Jasper pointed to the floor. “If you make me chase you, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
The butler’s eyes widened with fear.
“On your knees.”
He knelt without any protest. He needn’t give any considering Carlisle had heard the noise and come to investigate.
“What the devil happened here? What do you think you are about?”
Jasper stalked toward Olivia’s father. Something in his eyes must have alerted the viscount that Jasper meant to hurt him because he stumbled to reverse his path. Jasper reached out and grasped his shoulder, pushing the man down to his knees beside the butler.
“Where is she?”
The viscount’s gaze was defiant, but the butler began to weep and cried out, “I don’t know, my lord. Please don’t kill me.”
“Do you mean to tell me Miss Carlisle is not here?” Jasper’s chest tightened.
The butler shook his head. “She ran away last night. We don’t know where she is.”
Jasper turned his attention to the viscount. Olivia would never leave Richard. If she’d run, something must have happened to the boy. Jasper leaned down to stare into her father’s eyes. “What did you do?”
“It’s not your business.”
Jasper grabbed the man by the throat and hauled him up. “I’m making it my business. What did you do?”
“Kill me if you like,” the viscount gasped out. “I won’t help you.”
“I will,” said a female voice from the stairs leading to the upper floors. Jasper glanced up and saw a woman in a long white night rail and a flowing white robe. Her gray hair was down about her shoulders, and she was so thin and frail she looked as though a summer breeze would topple her. But the resemblance between Lady Carlisle and her daughter was unmistakable.
“Caroline!” the viscount rasped. “Go back to bed! You don’t have the strength—”
“Someone must, and it’s clearly not you. You think I don’t know what goes on in this house? You think you can dose me with laudanum and keep me oblivious?”
Jasper lowered the viscount to the floor, loosening his grip on the man’s neck but keeping him within reach.
“I was only following the doctor’s orders,” Carlisle said.
“I know the doctor’s orders. Keep me comfortable. Did you think I didn’t know I was dying?” She swayed, but reached for the banister, catching it to stabilize herself. “You can keep me comfortable tomorrow. Today I will help my daughter. I should have done it a long time ago.” She looked at Lord Jasper.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said softly, seeming to crumple. “Lord Carlisle does not know either. She’s run away. Again.” She gave her husband a chastising look. “Just when we had her back with us.”
The fear slicing through Jasper lessened slightly at her words. Withernsea didn’t have her. He knew where she’d go if she ran. To the Draven Club. At least, he hoped to God she’d listened when he told her to go there if she needed help while he was away.
“Why did she run?” he asked. “She must have had a reason to take her son and flee.”
Carlisle put a hand on his neck, as though worried Jasper would grab him again.
“You’ll have to ask him.” Lady Carlisle pointed to her husband. “I assume it has something to do with Withernsea’s visit yesterday.”
Jasper took a step toward Carlisle. “What did you do?” He’d never wanted to hurt a man so much. He shook with the effort of holding his anger in check. This was Olivia’s father and Richard’s grandfather. He was an old man. Hurting him was unforgivable.
“I didn’t have any choice,” Carlisle said, retreating until his back thumped against the wall. “He would have ruined us if I didn’t agree.”
“Agree to what? Marriage? To that monster?”
The viscount winced. “And it was only for a little while, to give me time to find a way around him...”
“Richard, no.” The viscountess covered her face.
He stared up at her. “I was doing it for you. To keep you from being thrust out on the street!”
“I’d rather that than lose my child. I thought I’d never see her again, and now...now...”
Jasper raised a hand. “I know where she is. She should be safe enough. Calm yourself, Lady Carlisle.” He looked at the viscount. “You should have come to me for help. If you think I’ll allow Withernsea to destroy her or you, think again. Although, maybe you’re not worth saving.”
He turned to go. He couldn’t reach the Draven Club quickly enough.
“Withernsea has Master Richard.” Carlisle’s words were like ice on bare skin. Jasper froze.
“What did you say?” Jasper turned slowly. He advanced on the viscount until the man lifted his hands before him in a protective gesture.
“The duke took the child. What could I do?”
“And you call yourself a father, a grandfather.” Jasper started for the door. It seemed the Draven Club would be his second stop.
“And what do you propose to do about it?” the viscount called after him. “If you marry her, Withernsea will ruin me and you.”
“Withernsea can’t ruin me,” Jasper called over his shoulder before opening the door. “I’m already ruined.”
And Jasper would ruin the duke first.
SLIPPING INSIDE THE duke’s large house in Grosvernor Square was a simple matter. Jasper had slinked behind the heavily guarded and fortified lines of the French dozens of times, but it was the deadly alleys and sewers of the London rookeries where he’d honed his skills. If he could bypass the cutthroats and thieves of London’s underground, he could avoid detection by a handful of footmen and maids.
He entered through the servants’ kitchen door on the ground floor while the servants were having supper. He caught snatches of their conversation and quickly learned the duke was dining at his club and would then attend a ball. Consequently, some of the staff had been given the night off. That made Jasper’s task even easier.
He made his way to the family quarters on the second floor without seeing another servant. He had no illusions wherever Richard was being kept would be unguarded. But that worked in his favor as well. He wouldn’t have to search every bed chamber. Richard would be held in the one with a footman outside.
When Jasper emerged onto the floor from the servants’ stairs, he peered down the corridor, immediately spotting a man sitting outside a door. The man was bent over a plate, shoveling potatoes into his mouth. He grumbled to himself, and Jasper imagined he groused about having to sit up here while his friends dined together below.
If Jasper moved down the corridor, he’d be spotted immediately. A man in a mask was always suspicious, especially here, where he did not belong. Jasper reached into his pocket and found a pair of dice. He usually had a pair. They were good for passing the time or running his fingers over when he was thinking. He withdrew them silently, mentally measuring the distance between himself and the other end of the corridor. If he could slide the die silently along the carpet until it pinged against the wall on the far side, the footman might rise to investigate it. That would be enough of a distraction for Jasper to incapacitate him. But he had to throw the die without the footman seeing it roll past and with enough strength so it made it all the way to the other end of the corridor, no small distance.
Jasper knew how to toss the dice, but he’d never faced this much pressure. One yell, one holler, and Jasper would be discovered. That didn’t mean he’d leave without Richard, but he’d have to hurt a lot of people to do so.
Crouching low, Jasper hefted a die in his hand. He’d have to send it rolling under the footman’s chair and far enough past him to encourage him to rise and turn his back to Jasper to investigate. Jasper rubbed his hands over the die quickly, then balanced it on one finger and flicked it hard with his thumb.
The roll was perfect. The die sailed low over the carpet, rolling under the footman’s chair and coming to rest a few feet past the servant. On the carpet. Silently.
Jasper swore under his breath. Not only had the die not rolled far enough, he knew he couldn’t roll it further, not with any accuracy. He’d have to throw the other so that it curved at the end and clattered against the wall. It was not so different from billiards. And Jasper excelled at billiards. He rubbed the die again, positioned it on his thumb, and with a small prayer, flicked it. This time it hit the carpet before the chair, but it rolled underneath and then clinked against the wall on the other side. The footman was immediately alert. He rose and peered down the corridor, facing away from Jasper.
“What was that?” he muttered.
In a moment, Jasper was behind him. A well-placed thud on the back of the head and the man went down. Jasper searched his pockets, found the key, and opened the bed chamber door. The room was dark but warm from the fire in the hearth. As soon as he stepped inside, Jasper heard whimpering. “Richard,” he said quietly. “It’s Jasper.”
“Jasper?”
Suddenly a form raced out of the darkness and slammed into Jasper, almost knocking him over. He lifted the boy and held him tightly, ignoring the sting of tears that pricked behind his eyes. The room was dusty. That had to be it.
“You’re safe. I’m taking you out of here.” He ran his hands all along the boy, checking for bumps or breaks. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”
“She’s safe. You’ll see her soon. We’re leaving, but you must be very quiet. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
Carrying the boy the entire time, Jasper took him out the same way he’d come in. The servants still sat at their table, no one aware that upstairs one of their own lay unconscious.
Once outside, Jasper didn’t hesitate. He knew where to take the boy. Neil Wraxall had been his commander in Draven’s troop, and he’d married a woman who ran an orphanage for boys. They were building a new orphanage, but in the meantime, the boys as well as Neil and his wife lived in the Earl St. Maur’s town house. That wasn’t far from here.
Jasper might have put the boy down as he made his way there, but he didn’t mind holding him. In fact, he rather liked the feel of the boy’s arms about his neck and his head resting on his shoulder. Jasper swore that if he had anything to say about it, Richard would never spend another night frightened again.
They arrived at the Earl St. Maur’s town house a quarter hour later just as the family had sat down to supper. The family, by the sound of it, was a hundred boys and a crying baby. The butler hadn’t said a word upon seeing Jasper and Richard. He’d merely held up a finger, indicating he would return in a moment. If he’d spoken, Jasper wouldn’t have heard him at any rate.
“What is this place?” Richard had whispered.
“My friend and his wife live here with about a dozen orphans. I thought you might stay here until I can bring your mother.”
“But I want to see her now.”
“I know.” Jasper squeezed the boy. “I’ll bring her as soon as I can. In the meantime, there will be other children to play with.”
Richard looked somewhat interested at that prospect.
Neil stepped into the vestibule, his hair rumpled and aggravation on his features. But his expression changed to bemusement when he saw Jasper. “This is a picture I never thought I’d see.”
