My Favorite Thief (33 page)

Archie nodded furiously, his face crimson from lack of air.

“Good.” Abruptly, Harrison released him.

“Archie—are ye all right?” cried Sal, flying over to him as he gasped and choked.

“He's fine,” Jamie assured her. “His eyes hardly swelled at all.” He sounded disappointed.

“All he needs is a bit of fresh air,” Simon advised, following Harrison and Jamie out the door. “I think the seaside might make a nice change for both of you, actually. I understand it's very pleasant this time of year.”

“Come here, Archie, let me hold ye,” said Sal, pulling him against her bountiful form. “Are ye all right?”

“Get the hell away from me!” Archie snapped, incensed that he had been so thoroughly humiliated in front of her and Charlotte.

“Can I get ye somethin'?”

“Get me a goddamn drink,” he ordered, staggering over to the bed. “An' then get yer things. We're leavin'.”

She splashed some gin into a dirty glass and handed it to him. “Where are we goin'?”

“Any place that's the hell away from here,” he muttered before downing his drink.

“Where?” she persisted, frowning. Sal knew Archie was in a bad way, but that didn't mean she was willing to go traipsing all over England with him, not knowing when he might just tire of her and toss her out. At least in London she had friends, sort of. She had places where she could go. She knew her way about. “If we're leavin' London, I got a right to know where we're goin',” she insisted, unmoved by his glower.

“I ain't sure,” Archie grumbled. “Maybe north. Maybe south. Maybe to the seaside. I've got a few quid—let's get to the train station an' decide.”

She shook her head. “Ye know I've always gone with what ye wanted, Archie—an' maybe this time I will too. But first I want to know just what it is ye want. That ain't too much to ask, especially now that ye're flush in the pocket. I need to know what my stake in it is.”

Christ, he thought, first he's nearly strangled to death and then he's being henpecked. Eight hundred pounds, he thought morosely, staring at his empty glass. It wasn't so bad. A man could go far on eight hundred pounds—especially if he didn't piss it all away on gin and gambling. No, he'd have to be smart. Maybe he would buy some kind of business—one where he could be the boss, and work only as hard as he liked. A tavern might be good, with a few rooms upstairs, for those that needed a bed for the night. If he made it friendly and relatively clean, and didn't water down the ale too much, he might do all right. It was definitely a possibility. Still, he didn't think he could manage it by himself. He knew more about drinking gin than pouring it, and he didn't know the first bloody thing about cooking or laundry or keeping a place nice enough that people might actually want to spend some money there.

He looked around the filthy, shabby room, then glanced uncertainly at Sal. She wasn't much at cooking or cleaning. Still, she was strong for a woman and not all that bad to look at. Besides, he'd grown used to having her around, nagging and all. He sighed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Tell me somethin', Sal—if I bought us a wee pub, do ye think ye could learn to cook?”

Chapter Seventeen

…AN' THEN THE LASS TAKES
F
LYNN HERE AN' WALKS
out as strong an' swack as ye please, leavin' old Boney Buchan stewin' in his filthy blather.” Oliver cast Charlotte a loving smile. “He'll nae be botherin' ye again, lass—unless he wants to feel the edge o' my dirk slicin' clean across his skinny, scabbit throat.”

“Here now, that's nae way to be speakin' in front of the lassies,” objected Eunice sternly as she passed around a plate of shortbread.

“Ye'll be giving them bad dreams,” Doreen agreed as she helped Haydon and Genevieve's butler and housekeeper, Beaton and Lizzie, serve tea to Charlotte's family.

Oliver frowned, perplexed. “Why in the name o' Saint Columba would that give 'em bad dreams? I said I'd cut his throat—that should make them feel safe.”

“You don't talk about cuttin' throats in front of young ladies,” Lizzie explained, heaping generous measures of sugar and milk into each of the cups. “Best to say you'll send any rogues off with the whack of a broom, which is what I'll do if that cur comes 'round here, an' let that be that.”

“I like it when you talk about using your dirk to protect us, Oliver,” Annabelle assured him.

“It always makes us feel much better to know that you're ready to use it,” Grace added, smiling.

“There, ye see?” Oliver demanded cheerfully. “The lassies know I'm ready to give a bastin' to any miserable swine who'd dare frighten them or trifle with their feelings.” He raised a meaningful brow at Harrison.

“Forgive me, sir,” said Lady Bryden, confused, “but what, exactly, is a basting?”

“A beatin',” Oliver explained succinctly. “An' dinna be fooled by these old hands—I can still knock a rogue's teeth clean from his head with one blow, leavin' them chewin' on the ground.”

“Really?” Lady Bryden blinked, clearly impressed. “How extraordinary. Perhaps, sir, you might be willing to give a few lessons in fisticuffs to my Harry. He's such a quiet, gentle boy; I worry that some day he might have need to defend himself.”

“Well, now, I suppose there's a thing or two I could teach the lad,” Oliver returned amiably. “Although I dinna believe ye need worry. I've seen the lad stand his ground, an' he fared well enough. Of course the scraggy old toast he faced was half his size and twice his age!” He barked with laughter.

“Harry, have you been fighting?” Lady Bryden regarded Harrison with disapproval.

“I had no choice—the fellow was bothering Charlotte,” Harrison explained.

“Oh, well, in that case, good for you.” His mother smiled, pleased that her son was protective of his new friend.

“I'm terribly grateful to you, Oliver, for always taking such wonderful care of all the children.” Genevieve wrapped her arm tighter around Charlotte. Her daughter seemed thin and pale and exhausted, which was troubling. Genevieve did not know whether Charlotte's condition could be attributed to the events of the last few weeks, or whether the tremendous stress of trying to run a refuge house in one of the less desirable areas of London had taken an unacceptable toll upon her. “It has given Haydon and me a great deal of comfort to know that you, Eunice, and Doreen have watched over Charlotte so closely since she decided to come to London and set up her refuge house.”

“We realize that all three of you have been instrumental in helping her to get it established,” Haydon added, wanting to be sure that the three elderly servants understood just how much they were appreciated. A quick glance at Genevieve's worried face had told him his wife had decided it would be best to take Charlotte home to Inveraray to rest for a while. Given everything Charlotte had been through recently, Haydon found himself in complete agreement.

“ 'Twas nothin',” said Oliver modestly.

“The lass does most of the work,” Doreen added, sensing that Genevieve and Haydon were having second thoughts about Charlotte's venture.

“Aye, we help keep things sailin' smooth—that's all,” Eunice declared. “ 'Tis always a fine day when we can seat a few hungry souls 'round a table an' give 'em a hot meal and a bed.”

“Eunice makes prime treacle scones,” Flynn said enthusiastically. “I was thinkin' of 'em night an' day while I was waitin' for a chance to escape that soddin' old shanker.”

“Were ye now?” Eunice's plump face shone with pleasure. “Well, lad, it just so happens I'm fixin' treacle scones tonight, along with anythin' else ye please, to celebrate yer comin' home. What do ye fancy?”

“Anythin' but haggis,” Flynn said, wrinkling his nose. “Maybe some of yer brown beef stew with potatoes an' peas.”

“Brown beef stew it is, with cranachan for dessert.”

“That sounds splendid, Eunice.” Simon's mouth began to water at the thought of one of Eunice's wonderful meals. “May I come over for dinner? I'm starving.”

“I'd like to come too,” Jamie swiftly added.

“Well, o' course, lads, there's room for both of ye. Maybe ye'd all like to come—I'm sure Annie, Ruby, an' Violet will have a fine time hearin' all about how ye trapped the Dark Shadow an' gave Boney Buchan his due last night.”

“That's very kind of you, Eunice, but I think we will wait for another night,” Genevieve said. “I believe Charlotte is tired, and needs to have an evening of quiet rest.”

“I'm fine,” Charlotte assured her. “You're all welcome to come over if you wish.”

She did not want to prevent her family from getting together for dinner and celebrating. It was clear they were excited and wanted more time to talk and laugh and enjoy each other's company. She wished she felt more like celebrating herself. She thought she should have felt elated, for having just rescued Flynn and standing her ground against her father for the first time in her life.

Instead she felt empty and strangely fragile.

“Can I come, too?” demanded a low, faintly teasing voice from the doorway.

Charlotte looked up to see her beloved older brother Jack leaning carelessly against the entrance to the drawing room. A shaky smile spread across her face.

“Jack! When did you get here?” squealed Annabelle, jumping up to kiss him.

“Why didn't you send us word that you were coming?” asked Genevieve, also rising to hug him.

The room dissolved into a whirl of excited questions as his family crowded around to welcome him home. Only Charlotte remained where she was, her hands clutching the wrinkled skirts of her gown. Jack studied her intently as he hugged each member of his family, assessing every detail of her, from the paleness of her skin to the bruised crescents of sleeplessness beneath her eyes. His gaze moved swiftly to Harrison and Lady Bryden, who were the only people in the room he did not know. Lady Bryden returned his gaze with warm curiosity, obviously enjoying the commotion his family was making around him as she waited for him to be introduced to her. The man seated beside her was harder to read. His expression seemed friendly enough, but his dark eyes were shadowed.

“Lady Bryden and Lord Bryden, permit me to introduce my son, Jack Kent,” said Haydon. “Jack, this is Lord Bryden and his mother, Lady Bryden.”

Feeling slightly wary, as he always did in the company of aristocratic strangers, Jack gave them a small, stiff bow.

“I'm delighted to meet you, young man,” said Lady Bryden, smiling. “I assume from the bronze of your skin that you have been abroad?”

“Yes.”

“Our Jack loves the sea,” Oliver explained proudly. “Canna keep the lad in one place more than a week or two—he's always off on a ship to India or China or some such wild place. The need to wander is in his bones.”

“Really? How fascinating,” enthused Lady Bryden. “You must come over for dinner one night and tell us all about your travels. I'm sure my Harry would love to hear about all the places you have been, wouldn't you, Harry?”

“It would be an honor to have all of Charlotte's family dine with us in our home.” Harrison met Jack's penetrating gaze with affected calm.

He had understood the moment Charlotte's eyes fell upon her brother that the two of them shared a uniquely powerful bond. He had been able to feel it pulsing between them across the room, even as Jack stood and accepted the affection and good wishes of the rest of his family. Although he had yet to go to her, Harrison could also feel a shield of protectiveness emanating from Jack toward Charlotte.

It was clear that if this handsome young man suspected for an instant that Harrison had trifled with Charlotte, he would take great pleasure in beating Harrison to a pulp.

“You gave me quite a scare, Charlotte,” Jack said, kneeling before her once everyone else had had a chance to hug him. He gently covered her hands with his, stopping her from clutching her skirts. “We were docked in Italy when one of my men told me they had seen an English newspaper which said you had been kidnapped.”

“ 'Twas nothin', lad,” Oliver scoffed. “I kept the lass safe, an' then we took the Dark Shadow here home an' Eunice an' Doreen stitched him up and then we helped find the real tooler who's been goin' about London thievin' and murderin'. 'Tis all over an' done with now—but we're pleased to see ye've made the trip to London, all the same.”

Jack glowered at Harrison. All that he had absorbed from what Oliver had just said was that this bastard had taken Charlotte against her will.

“Jack,” began Charlotte, sensing his outrage, “it isn't what you think.”

“Is he the one who took you hostage?” Jack demanded. “The one they were talking about in the newspapers?”

“Actually, your sister insisted that I take her hostage,” Harrison explained. “I tried my best to talk her out of it.”

“That's true,” Charlotte quickly agreed. “I knew Harrison was trapped, and the only way he could get past everyone was if he used me as a shield—”

“And you did that?” Jack rose to his feet, unable to believe that Charlotte was actually defending the spineless bastard. “You took a helpless girl who can barely walk and dragged her in front of you as a shield, just because she suggested it?”

“No, I listened to the suggestion of a young woman who is both intelligent and strong-willed, and we walked out together,” Harrison countered evenly as he rose from his chair to face him. “And quite frankly, I find your description of Charlotte as a helpless girl who can barely walk utterly wrong. She is a remarkable woman who is capable of extraordinary things, and the fact that she endures a limp does not prohibit her from doing anything she sets her mind to.”

“Well said, lad!” Oliver slapped his knee with approval. “I've thought the same thing myself about the lass for years.”

“Sometimes ye have to make the best o' a bad bargain,” observed Eunice philosophically. “An' that's what our Charlotte has done.”

“Charlotte really has done some amazing things, lately, Jack,” Annabelle chimed in. “She has done marvelous work at her refuge house, and has already helped a number of women and children.”

“And she has attended dinner parties and balls and even spoken in public, appealing for donations,” added Grace.

“She came up with a clever plan to trap the real Dark Shadow,” continued Jamie proudly.

“And last night she faced her father after he tried to blackmail her, and she told him if he ever bothered her again she'd go straight to the police.” Simon beamed at Charlotte as he finished, “She was brilliant.”

Jack stared at his sister in surprise. “You did all that?”

Charlotte nodded, watching as Jack's expression shifted from disbelief to a kind of painful regret.

“Well,” he murmured, “I guess a lot of things have changed while I've been away.” He cleared his throat, then glanced uncertainly at Harrison. “Forgive me.” He turned abruptly and left the room.

“Jack!” Charlotte rose and followed him out of the drawing room, closing the doors behind her. “Wait!”

He stopped at the top of the stairs and faced her. “I'm sorry, Charlotte.”

“For what?”

He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “So much has happened to you—I should have been there for you. You were kidnapped, for God's sake—and then your father…” He shook his head. “I should have been with you, and I wasn't.”

Charlotte reached out and gently took his hand, and together they sat down on the top step of the staircase.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jack,” she assured him gently, leaning against him the way she had from the time they were children. “I've always known you could never stay in Inverness and spend your life looking after me—I've never expected it—never wanted it. And as you can see, I've managed all right, with the help of the rest of the family. I'm not as helpless as you think I am.” She paused a moment before quietly reflecting, “I'm a lot stronger than even I realized.”