by Lauren Smith
That didn’t stop him from feeling frustrated, though. As much as he was glad for his friends settling down with wives who were worthy of them, those same wives created complications. Before marriage, his friends would have willingly dashed off with him to a place like the Lewis Street tunnels, but now? Now his friends had other considerations before they put their lives in danger, such as the safety of their families. Resentment crawled beneath his skin. He hated that part of himself, knowing it was wrong to feel that way.
“Ash will be down soon. I just want to be sure that you are all right.” Rosalind touched his arm. He covered her hand with his, patting it once before he let go and so did she.
“I’m quite fine.”
But he wasn’t fine. Right now his greatest fear was that he would ask Ashton for his help, and Rosalind would forbid it. Rosalind nodded and left him alone. Perhaps she had sensed something in his tone. A few minutes later, Ashton joined him.
“Charles?” There was a note of concern in his voice. “I heard you aren’t feeling well?”
“It’s not what you think.” He paused, making sure Rosalind wasn’t lurking near the door. “I need your help. I have to go into the Lewis Street tunnels to retrieve a body. It’s a matter of honor and respect for a friend.”
Ashton’s face went blank. “A body?”
“Lord Kent. He was most likely killed there last night. My brother was with him and almost met the same fate. I promised I would retrieve him, come what may. I know the tunnels well, but it would be unwise to go alone. Especially once you learn who was behind it.”
Ashton waved for them to leave. “You had best tell me everything that happened on the way.”
They soon caught a hackney to Lewis Street. By the time they were at the entrance to the tunnels, he had told Ashton everything he knew. When they knocked on the door, Charles expected the gatekeeper to slide open the hatch and peer at them. But he wasn’t there. Charles tried the door handle, and the door opened with a heavy groan. The gate was unguarded. That left him with an unsettled pit in his stomach.
“Sheffield had to have had a reason to maneuver Lord Kent into such a position.” Ashton kept close to Charles as they moved deeper into the dark bowels below Lewis Street. Lamps hung every twenty feet along the craggy walls, illuminating just enough of their path for them to keep walking.
“Obviously it was on Hugo’s orders.”
“Obviously,” Ashton agreed. “But why? A message? Then why not Graham instead?”
“I’m not sure,” Charles whispered. The tunnels had ears, and he did not want to risk being overheard.
“Perhaps it is because Lord Kent is a man without a family. There is no one to seek answers for his death.”
Charles scowled. “Or perhaps Hugo wants to remind us that no one is far enough removed for his designs. He planned for Graham to be there, to witness everything, and to come to me for help. No one with any connection to us, no matter how remote, can be considered safe anymore.”
Ashton started walking again, and Charles led him deeper into the dark. “I believe Hugo is starting his endgame now.”
The narrow tunnel opened into a cavernous space with several boxing rings. At the far end of the room there was a group of iron cells meant to keep people locked up. In the times of the Tudors, this space had been a dungeon used for keeping political prisoners too influential to be kept in more visible prisons. When the monarchs wanted someone to disappear quietly, they ended up in the tunnels.
Charles shivered at the empty quiet of the room. It was usually so thick with sweating bodies that a man could barely get through.
Ashton pointed toward a lumpy object toward the back by the cells. There was a body inside wearing what had once been fine clothes. “There.”
Heart pounding, Charles hurried over and knelt by the corpse, rolling him over onto his back. The face was almost unrecognizable, but it was Lord Kent.
“His leg has been broken,” Ashton observed. “What animals would do this and call it sport?” Ashton’s calm demeanor was crumbling at the sight of Phillip’s tortured body.
“Graham said they beat him until he stopped moving.” Fury swept through him. Hugo may have believed no one would avenge Phillip, but he was wrong, so very wrong.
The man suddenly moved. His body seized, and a gasp of air escaped his lips.
“Bloody Christ!” Charles fell back onto his backside in alarm.
“He’s not dead!” Ashton pulled Charles to his feet. Together, they lifted Phillip up by his arms, taking one over each of their shoulders.
“Phillip? Can you hear me?” Charles asked.
“G-Graham…?” The croaked whisper was full of pain.
“Graham sent me,” said Charles. “Good God, Ash. We’ve got to get him out.”
They lifted him up, trying to keep any pressure off his legs while they carried him back up the sloping tunnel. There was still no sign of the gatekeeper. It was as though the tunnels has been abandoned. Charles was grateful for the ease of their escape, but he couldn’t help but feel that they were being played somehow. Or watched. Once they reached the portal to the street, Charles stayed with Phillip while Ash summoned a coach, and then they carefully lifted him inside.
“Take him to your home,” Ash said. “I’ll get the doctor.”
Charles nodded. Time was of the essence if they were going to save him.
10
Lily carried Katherine out of the servants’ quarters, saying her goodbyes to the staff. It took every bit of her self-control not to cry. These men and women were good, loyal people who had helped her settle into a life here, a life that had become a happy dream, at least when she was wasn’t reminded that she was the cuckoo in their nest.
She looked back upon the house before she summoned a coach. The beautiful townhouse looked much like the other houses on the street, but the red door with a lion’s head knocker would always be home for her, and leaving it made her heart ache.
“Mama?” Katherine whispered drowsily and burrowed closer to her.
She stroked a hand up and down Katherine’s head before she climbed into the coach. “Sleep, love.”
When they reached the gambling hell, it was late afternoon. Lily carried her daughter up the back stairs and slipped out a brass key to unlock the door. This time she was careful to check the shadows in the room, half expecting to find Hugo lurking here again.
She set Katherine down on the bed and changed out of her clothes. Removing the bindings around her breasts, she drew in a deep breath. Then she pulled on her stockings, stays, petticoats, and a dark-blue day gown that buttoned up the front. She removed the cap and wig and took some time to brush out her long gold locks, then washed off the colored powder that concealed her more feminine features. It was a relief to look like herself again and not have to spend an hour each morning changing her face to hide.
She finished cleaning her face and then worked her hair into a simple coiffure. She studied herself in the cracked mirror. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.
She collected her Tom Linley disguise and tucked it under the bed, out of the view of casual eyes in case someone got into the room while she was gone. She glanced at herself once more in the mirror, and it began to sink in that the end was coming. Hugo intended for her to seduce Charles, and then his final plan would be set in motion. There would be no more Tom and no more life in Charles’s home.
No more Charles.
And then what? she wondered. Would she at last be free of Hugo? He had promised her as much. He’d said he would allow her and Katherine to live in the country and to do what she wanted. She would be free, free to carry the guilt of her actions with her forever.
But she also knew how Hugo thought. He had invested time and money into her education, and he hated wasting resources. Part of her knew that she would hear a familiar sound a year or two later, that of a cane being stuck against her door, and a new task would require her attention.
She would never
be truly free.
With a heavy sigh, she picked up her daughter and left the room Katherine had been born in, locking it behind her. She hired another coach to take her to the Essex townhouse. There she was let in by a footman, and Emily rushed down the stairs to greet her.
“Lily! You came.” Emily embraced her as though they were cousins and not plotting a deception to fool the ton about her identity. Emily gave Katherine a little kiss on the forehead just as her husband came down the stairs.
Lily had been around Godric many times, but she’d always been somewhat invisible as a servant. Now she was facing him in a dress, holding her daughter and feeling exposed. Would he recognize her?
“Mrs. Wycliff?” Godric beamed at her. His green eyes and natural charm hit her hard. No wonder Emily adored this man. When he smiled, it was like the sun came out after days of rain. Of course, it was nothing compared to when Charles smiled. If Godric was sunshine, Charles was the sun himself. All heat, light, and raw power that consumed her completely. Lord, she’d only just left him, and she already missed him.
“Your Grace.” She dropped into a curtsy, which proved difficult since she still held Katherine in her arms. The child stirred and rubbed her eyes and blinked owlishly at Godric.
“And who is this then?” Godric rubbed Katherine’s chin, beaming at the child. Lily could already tell he would make an indulgent, loving, and protective father.
“Sophia, Your Grace.” She kissed the crown of Katherine’s blonde head. “Sophia, this is Lord Essex.”
“Shush. You may call me Uncle Godric.” He winked at the girl, and she smiled at him, clapping her hands together.
“I have a nurse for her upstairs in the nursery if you would like to get her settled,” Emily offered.
“Thank you, Emily.” She curtsied again to Godric and followed Emily upstairs.
A matronly woman named Mrs. Yorke took charge of Katherine and set her down in a room full of toys. A large wooden crib was prepared, with a warm fire lit in the hearth. It looked so inviting and wonderful that Lily’s eyes burned with tears.
“Emily, it’s…”
“Please say it’s all right. Godric and I have been preparing this for the last two months, and I’m so glad Sophia will be able to use it before our own child arrives.”
Katherine reached for a toy horse and waved it at the nurse, who chuckled and sat down next to her, picking up a doll to join in play with Katherine.
“It’s more than I ever could have dreamed. More than we deserve.” Lily clutched her hands to her chest, her throat tight as she watched her daughter play.
“Nonsense. You deserve this. Everyone does.” Emily hugged her shoulders. “Now, come down and have some tea. I want to tell you about the ball tonight.”
“A ball? So soon?” Lily waved to Katherine as she left the nursery, but the child was completely engrossed playing with Mrs. Yorke.
“Yes. I apologize for the short notice. Lord Sanderson and his wife are hosting one tonight, and I thought it would be a perfect opportunity for you to meet some decent gentlemen. I’ve already spoken to Lady Sanderson, and she’s thrilled to have you attend.”
“But I don’t have a suitable dress…” She had left the red gown in the room above the gambling hell, afraid Charles would recognize it if she wore it. But she realized now she should have brought it so he would recognize her. Why hadn’t she? Was she trying to sabotage herself?
“Everly had your first dress and a cloak delivered an hour ago. It’s a ready-made one she was able to tailor to your measurements. I spent the morning shopping for you. There are stockings, slippers, and anything else you might need before Everly can bring you more gowns.”
Emily and Lily came into the drawing room. Godric was reading a newspaper by the fire, and Emily’s foxhound was resting on the cushions of a chair opposite him. The dog lifted her head as Emily approached, wagging her tail furiously, thumping against the cushions. Emily brushed her fingertips over the dog’s head, whispering sweetly to it.
“Did little Sophia like the nursery?” Godric inquired.
“Yes, Your Grace. She was very excited. Thank you for letting us trespass upon your hospitality.”
“Nonsense. You’re family. I was sorry to hear that your husband passed. Emily said Aaron was a good man.”
“He was.” Lily followed Emily as she sat down on one of the settees and poured two cups of tea. The foxhound leapt up and came to sit by Emily’s leg, eyeing the tray of small biscuits hopefully.
“Not now, Penelope,” said Emily. The poor dog sighed and rested her head on Emily’s knee, eyes rolling between Emily and the tray. “Did you remember to invite the League to the ball tonight?” she asked her husband. “Lady Sanderson expects them all to attend.”
Godric frowned as he folded up his paper. “I did, darling, but do we have to go? What if you—?”
“I’ll be fine. You may carry me up any icy steps, and I promise not to dance.” Emily touched her swollen belly. “This little one isn’t due for another month. She will be staying put, won’t you?” She spoke this to her belly with a warm smile.
Godric looked to his wife with amused contemplation. “Emily swears our child is a girl, but I’m not so sure.”
It was clear that Godric did not suspect anything unusual about her. Lily was able to relax in Godric and Emily’s company and laughed as they teased each other about their coming child.
“Did you know Sophia was a girl before she was born?” Emily asked.
Lily shook her head. “No. I had no idea what to expect. I only knew that I loved the child, no matter what.” Having Katherine inside her had been like sharing her heart, her breath. Loving her child was like loving herself. There’d been no question about that.
“I will certainly love a girl if we have it,” Godric said as he opened his paper again. “But Lord, such a child will give me gray hair if she’s anything like her mother.”
“And if it’s a boy who’s anything like his father, I will go gray first,” Emily countered. “Now, Lily, about tonight—” A knock on the drawing room door interrupted whatever Emily had been about to say. Simpkins’s face appeared around the edge of the door.
“Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace, but an urgent letter has arrived from Lord Lennox.”
Godric was on his feet in an instant, taking the letter. “Thank you, Simpkins.” He tore the wax seal open and read the letter. His face paled. “My God.”
Emily watched her husband intensely, as though she could almost read his thoughts. “Trouble, my dear?”
“Ash needs to see me at once. He and Charles retrieved Lord Kent from the tunnels on Lewis Street. He’s been beaten nearly to death.”
“Lord Kent?” Emily’s eyes widened. “What on earth was he doing down there?”
Godric folded the letter up. “It’s an underground boxing ring for those who like to fight and wager without restrictions. Charles has been there a few times. It’s vicious and dangerous. It’s unclear why Kent went in, however.”
Lily’s heart thundered madly against her ribs. Charles had gone back down there to find Kent? Her instinct was to run straight back to Charles to help. But she remembered where she was, and who she was now. Tom was gone forever. She was Lily Wycliff. She was trapped here. A stranger in skirts.
“This has Hugo’s shadow over it, I’m sure of it,” said Emily.
“I fear you are right,” said Godric. “But you are not to concern yourself with this. Not in your condition.”
“Are you going now?” Emily asked.
He nodded and came over to her, stealing a lingering kiss that left Lily feeling envious. If only she could have that with someone like Charles…
“The League will be meeting shortly to discuss this, but I should be home for the ball.” He turned and strode from the room. Emily didn’t speak for a moment. She kept quiet, her head cocked as though listening for anyone who might be close enough to hear her them. When she seemed satisfied, she finally spoke.
“This does not bode well.” She rubbed her temples. “I trust you know from Charles about Hugo Waverly and the danger he presents?”
Lily’s throat constricted. “Yes.”
“This must be his doing. Everything seems to come back to him.” Emily scowled. “But the mystery is why. I wish they would tell me what happened that night.”
Lily leaned forward. “What do you mean? How much do you know?” She’d known for a long time there was a secret, one that Charles kept buried deep. She knew Hugo was at the root of it, but neither Charles nor Hugo had ever explained what made them hate each other so.
“It was long ago, when Godric and the others were at Cambridge. Hugo kidnapped Charles from his room, bound his arms and legs, and dragged him to the river.”
Lily’s blood turned to ice when she pictured Hugo trying to drown Charles so viciously. “That much I know. I’ve heard him cry out in his sleep to that effect. But what I don’t understand is why.”
Emily shrugged. “I wish I knew. I’m not even sure my husband knows the full reason. Charles is a man of many secrets. He is all laughing and teasing on the surface, but when no one is looking he’s a man made entirely of steel.”
That was true. Lily had glimpsed that man of resolve and courage like no one she’d ever seen before. But there were secrets there, ones that left shadows in his gray eyes. She wondered at times if his secrets were as damning as hers. Perhaps they were. She remembered how he’d cry out in the night, shuddering with nightmares and whispering the name Peter over and over until tears coated his cheeks and he slipped back into sleep. Those nights haunted her.
“Does the name Peter mean anything to you?” she asked Emily.
“Peter? Yes…I believe he was a friend of Godric’s at Cambridge, but he died. Godric doesn’t like to talk about it. Why do you ask?”
“It’s something Charles says when he has nightmares—he whispers the name. But he never talks about Peter when he’s awake.”
Emily’s gaze turned distant, as though she was lost in thought for a few minutes. Then she shook her head and looked at Lily.
