The Fall into Ruin, page 21
“And do you trust me, at all? Have I gained at least a measure of your trust?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Then let me get us out of this and then we can decide what our future might look like. Then you can stay or you can run but at least I’ll know I tried to convince you to accept me.”
God, did he have to say it like that? Like a lost boy and she his only hope at a real life? She knew it not to be true. Not really. He could marry a fine woman and live happily ever after. Then his lips and hands and body would belong to someone else. Rose didn’t like that idea much. They fit together.
Apart from the times he’d called her an idiot, he hadn’t attempted to lock her in her room. And as much as he spoke about honour, he’d started this game of flesh between them when he’d come to her rooms while she bathed, when he’d cradled her breast and kissed her senseless. He’d started that. Awoken something inside of her.
“What do we do?” she asked him.
He gave her a nod and squeezed her fingers but then let go and considered the door to their temporary prison. “How many men were with your brothers?”
“I don’t know. A dozen?”
“And they’d need most of those men with them to guard against Smith’s crew. How many do you think she has? If you had to guess?”
“More than a dozen.” She counted maybe fourteen when Smith had whistled for her hounds. There could have been more who didn’t show their faces. She would certainly need more than that to crew her ship across the Channel. “Oh, God. The ship. We should find out where she is docked.”
Anthony shook his head. “We won’t be needing it. We find Smith and arrest her, then your brothers can be brought to heel and taken to the magistrate. Or he can come to them. No one is going to make the ship before we have half of them in custody.”
“You’re going to have her hanged?” Rose’s knees went a little weak. She would not let that happen. Lucinda was pregnant and the child was possibly of Rose’s own blood.
He swung to her with his full attention. “She’s guilty. There’s no doubt the lengths she’s gone to so far, or the lengths she will go to.”
The horror must have shown all over her face. He grimaced but didn’t rescind his words, instead he turned his attention back to the door.
Rose began stripping off her gown. She shimmied out of the padded suit and went to work on the fastenings.
“What are you doing?” Anthony hissed.
“I need to be able to run and move freely.” Her fingernails were short so she used her teeth to loosen the laces that held the padded suit closed and tight, and then fashioned them into a belt around her too-loose dress. She then unbuttoned an internal pocket in the padding and took a dagger from the concealed compartment, secreting it into her boot before tossing the suit into the corner.
“I’m ready,” she told him with a nod.
“You are not joining a fight.”
Rose huffed and strengthened her stance. “I need to liberate Michael and…” She should have stopped there. “And get home before my absence is noted.”
She had to stop treating him like a dolt, she realised when his lips thinned into a line and his hands lifted to his hips. “You will not warn Smith. You will not go anywhere near that woman again. I will rescue bloody Michael and you will find the authorities or the closest thing this town has to offer. There should at least be an officer of the court near the docks.”
Rose took two steps towards the man who claimed she could have a life tied to him and poked him in the chest with her finger. Hard. “You do not own me yet, sir. We will do this together or I will go it alone.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Anthony could only stare at his little hellion as fire flashed in her golden eyes, her finger attempting to stab a hole into his chest cavity. He might even wear a small bruise from her fury. He smiled. It was a mistake.
Her voice grew louder and louder with every word. “Do you think this is a joke, Sir Anthony Germaine—not a pirate, not a gentleman, not a Runner? You wouldn’t know the first thing about—”
The door creaked open behind Anthony’s back and they both froze, Rose mid-sentence.
“Oi,” a voice hissed from the darkness beyond. “Do you two mind keeping it down in… Wait a minute!”
Anthony swung with all his might, his fist landing a solid, bone-crunching blow to the man’s nose, or was it his cheek? It all happened so fast. First there was shock, and then his eyes were rolling into the back of his head as he fell.
It took only seconds to drag the unconscious guard into the stable and lock the door, with him inside. No one else was about but were they sleeping or had Josiah already gone to confront Smith? If Anthony had any luck left in the world at all, both villains would be together and neither would expect company. He guessed it to be almost dawn. The crunching of straw and the scuff of a boot on dirt had him turning on the spot, just in time to witness Rose skulking towards the street side door of where they were being held. He was no good with the direction since he himself had been unconscious on the way in.
He had no choice but to follow her. He wanted to draw attention to the fact he’d just felled a man with one blow. His hand didn’t even hurt. His veins were abuzz with the need to do it again, a restless type of energy taking over. Not a pirate, no, but he was going to right a wrong here tonight.
He reached out a hand and gripped Rose’s bicep in a tight hold only seconds before she would have stormed out into the night. Sleet fell but it wasn’t heavy. It was cold though. “Wait,” he commanded her.
She tried to shake him off but he held her steady. His voice was a whisper but he hoped it held a hint of warning, of danger. “Slowly, for God’s sake, Rose. These aren’t your cliffs or your home. You have no idea who is about.”
Rose let him poke his head out first to determine if the street was clear. He gave her a nod and she shot off across the dirt and stone to an alleyway not far down. It was as dark as night. He couldn’t see a bloody thing. He stopped to listen for her footfall but all he heard was the actual pirate curse she dropped into the pitch-black.
“You’re going to slow me down,” she complained.
He shuffled in the direction of her next curse word. She took his hand and resumed her steady pace until they emerged onto another street, this time the first rays of dawn peeked through the cloud and drizzling rain. Moisture had pooled in her hair in the form of tiny, delicate droplets and clung to her eyelids. Until she blinked and rubbed the back of her hand across her face much the way an urchin would wipe his nose. Her cheeks did flush right before she spoke. “The Cock’s Wobble is two streets in that direction.” She gestured with the same finger that had poked into his chest.
“Wait, the Cock’s Wobble? A tavern? You went to a tavern, unchaperoned, to meet a villain, with only old men and boys at your back?”
“I was armed,” she proclaimed. “And I had Michael.”
He gritted his teeth and wondered if this was what he could expect from her for a lifetime. He had said he wouldn’t curb her adventurous spirit and he’d meant that, but there would be no dockside taverns in her future, especially ones with cock in the name! “Of course, you had Michael.” It was all he could say.
She glared at him and dropped his hand like she hadn’t realised she still held it.
“I’ll go to the tavern and look around. Josiah might not have even made it yet and now that he doesn’t have the two of us to hand over, he might go back to the estate. We can deal with him there.”
Rose nodded and said, “I suppose I’ll run down to the docks and find someone to raise the alarm.”
Her tone caught him off guard. Defeat filled her words. “It’s the right thing to do, Rose. Smith is a criminal and she must be brought to justice. Don’t let her fool you with her pretty face and delicate condition.”
She nodded but bit her lip, her teeth pressing into the Cupid’s bow. Anthony wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. “We can do this, Rose. Together. We’ll get Michael back. I promise. We will prevail.”
She nodded into his shoulder and squeezed him back. When he released her she lifted onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his. He poured as much of himself into the kiss as he could. He wanted to tell her all the things he was feeling, that there was hope that they would work this out. That there was a tomorrow to look forward to after today. But before he got the chance, she slipped away and was running down the street, blending into the shadows until he could no longer make out her form.
She had put her trust in him and he would show her he deserved it. He would capture Smith and she would be transported to London for her trial where she would be found guilty but she would not hang. Transportation was a far more likely outcome for a woman with child. If he thought she would hang, he might hesitate to take her down.
Anthony shook his head against that idea. The woman was responsible for a great many reprehensible deeds. She’d almost had his own sister killed, children too if Trelissick and the pirate Darius hadn’t worked to save them all. Michael might already be dead if Smith found out he had very little value other than to Rose.
One booted foot in front of the other, Anthony moved as quickly and quietly as he could in the direction Rose had pointed him. He would do what was right and just. And then Clairmont would bow to public pressure and give him the position of Runner.
But for the first time in such a long time, the prickle of pride he was sure he would feel at the thought of being sworn to uphold the law didn’t come. It didn’t warm his chest or cause him to stand a little taller. All he saw in his mind was Rose’s eyes and the way they would condemn him if Smith did hang…
*
Of all the underhanded tactics Rose had ever employed, this one was the most deceitful by far. She threw a glance over her shoulder expecting the sounds of pursuit, but none followed. All was silent except for the beating of her heart as it thundered in her chest and struck a drum in her ears. She wasn’t even sorry or fearful of being caught out. She worried about what might happen to Anthony if he stumbled upon the wrong street or any number of mishaps that could befall a man who couldn’t see a thing in the dark.
She had the vision of a street rat, Michael always told her. Years of running about during the night had lent her the ability to see well the shapes of what one might bump into. But dawn was approaching and with it Anthony’s coming realisation that she had sent him in the wrong direction. If he made the market where stallholders would be setting up for the morning trade, he could ask for the right direction and know she’d duped him.
A few hours. That’s all she needed. One at least. As she came upon the tavern, she didn’t approach via the front doors. She made her way to the back of the establishment and tried to peer through windows with layers of grime and soot blurring what was inside. Not one candle burned so far as she could tell.
As she sought a silent way in, she cursed a blue streak in her head. She’d said she would put her trust in him and this betrayal would sting. She did trust him to keep her safe; he was hard and yet gentle, safe and yet strong. With her. She just didn’t trust him to walk the best course rather than the right one with Smith.
Finally a window that wasn’t locked on the ground level slid upwards smoothly and she hoped it would hold once she had it open enough to slip through. She couldn’t prop up the glass, hold her dress, protect herself and do it all without making a sound. A second pair of hands would have helped.
Holding her breath, she slowly removed her fingers from the frame and the blessed thing held in place. Probably the grime, she thought. Rose wiped her hands on her dress and then boosted her way inside the room. Her boots barely made a sound as she crouched in place, waiting for an alarm to be raised that an intruder had arrived. No such sound came. On a normal day of breaking into an establishment, she might close the window behind her but there wasn’t time.
“Rose?” From the corner of the room came a whisper and it startled her into clapping a hand over her own mouth. Her muffled shriek of surprise turned into one of delight.
“Michael?” Fortune favoured her as she embraced her old friend. “How do you fare?” she asked in a whisper.
He didn’t answer her question, just took her by the shoulders and glared at her face in the glow of predawn through the open window. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She bristled. “I’ve come to rescue you.”
His eyes widened. “You have her money?”
Rose shook her head. “I don’t. But I’ve also come to warn her if she’ll hear me. My brother and Germaine are here too. Josiah means to kill everyone to cover the trail of his misdemeanours and Germaine means to arrest her, which will also lead to her death. Either way, she needs to leave now. We all need to leave.”
“Warn her?” Michael looked truly puzzled now. “Why would you warn her? She’s a criminal.”
“She is also a woman carrying a child,” she pointed out. Did an innocent baby mean nothing to these men? “She can still get away. You go through the window and keep look out. I’ll find Lucinda and get her moving. She must leave everything and return to her ship right now.”
For a moment his eyes turned so hard and his fingers pinched into her arms until she had to bite her tongue against asking him to unhand her. But then his expression cleared and he turned to the door of this room he’d been held prisoner in.
“No,” she whispered in a hiss. “You keep lookout and I’ll find her. I’m lighter on my feet and can see better than you in the dark.”
But Michael wouldn’t hear her. He threw the door open and stomped down the corridor with all the grace, and noise, of a rhinoceros in charge. As he went, he banged doors and called, “Get up, we’re moving. Right now.”
Rose scurried after him, this time the confusion all hers. “Michael?” she called to his back.
But he didn’t answer, merely took each stair two at a time until he reached the top. “Lucinda, get up, we need to leave. Right now.”
By the time Rose reached him, he’d swung open the door to a bedroom lit by a single candle. Lucinda was dressed and perched on the edge of the bed struggling with her boots. “I heard.”
She locked dark sleepy eyes with Rose’s. “What are you doing here? Did you bring my money?”
Rose shook her head. “I was kidnapped by Josiah and—Wait just a moment.” Spinning on the spot, she pinned Michael with a glare of her own. “Just what is going on here? Has she dazzled you too? Her prisoner?”
Michael grinned the same grin he’d been giving her for more than ten years but a prickling started at her nape and unease settled low in her belly. What he said next, she had not seen coming. “You really are very gullible, Rose. I was never a prisoner here. Lucinda is my sister. Another of Ashmoor’s bastards.”
Rose slumped to the wall at her back. “I don’t understand. How? When? How?”
Lucinda called to them both, “Someone help me with these blasted boots. I cannot reach my feet.”
Michael moved to kneel before the villain and gently helped her slide a foot into each dirty leather boot and then he laced them up for her. He’d done that for Rose once. When they’d been drenched in a downpour and her fingers had been so stiff and numb she wasn’t able to get her shoes off. How many times had Michael helped her? His friend? His confidante? Rose and he often joked they were all each other had in the world. There was no one else they would trust so fully with their own lives.
“You lied to me.”
Michael looked up from his task. “An occasional necessity I’m afraid.”
“And you?” Rose switched her gaze from her friend to his sister. “How long have you been waiting in the wings?”
Lucinda hauled herself from the edge of the cot with more of Michael’s help and began throwing loose items in a canvas bag. “We’ve known about each other for some years.”
Rose’s mind was spinning like one of those little carved wooden toys you flicked between your forefinger and thumb. She cast back, sifting images and facts until she put at least one and one together to make two. “You were there in the gardens at my ball.”
Lucinda tsked. “Bad news that night, wasn’t it?”
“The note. You were the contact I was to pass Michael’s note to?”
Neither one answered her but she took their silence as a yes. “Did you think I’d never find out?”
Michael shook his head. “I was rather hoping you wouldn’t. At least not until we were under sail. But then you had to go and ask for passage. Do you really think you can just disappear, Rose? Lie about your identity for the rest of your life and spend all the time watching your back and keeping track of your stories?”
Rose scoffed and shuffled a little closer to the door that led to the landing. “Well you two have managed to pull the wool over the eyes of many people for many years. Does Ashmoor know about his daughter?”
They both laughed. “He knows about all of his bastards. He just doesn’t care about any of us,” Michael said.
Lucinda was in the process of awkwardly strapping a sword to her belly when she stopped and placed her hand to her middle. She stood like that for a moment and Michael’s attention shifted and he went to her.
Rose didn’t hesitate; she hit the stairs running, not paying any heed to the noise she made. She went back the way she came with the intention of hurling herself out the open window and onto the street. Anthony was right. She was an idiot.
A vice-like steel wrapped around her middle and lifted her off her feet, knocking the breath from her body and causing the room to swing wildly. She didn’t bother with ‘let me go’ or ‘unhand me’. She had walked into a trap of her own making and now she had nothing to leverage, no bargaining power. She had to hope that the mere fact she’d come with a warning would allow her some small mercy in the eyes of the villain. And the villain’s bloody brother…
Chapter Twenty-Two
