Sally MacKenzie Bundle (177 page)

“Some talk is all I need tonight,” he said. “I will pay your going rate and then some. It will be the easiest money you’ve ever earned. Same for Jen, right, Robbie?”

Robbie nodded.

“Yer sure ye don’t want to go upstairs?” Bess tugged her already low bodice lower. “I can make yer cock crow, see if I can’t.”

“I’m sure you can, Bess, but I really do only want to talk. I need some information.”

Bess pulled back. “Information? What kind of information?”

“Information about an American named William Dunlap.”

“Gawd!” Jen choked on her ale.

“We don’t know nuttin’ about no Dunlap,” Bess said quickly, her face suddenly pale.

“Are you certain?” James dug into his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins. He put them on the table—bright, gold sovereigns—and slowly, almost idly, began to separate them into two piles.

“Aye.” Jen’s eyes followed the track of James’s index finger as it slid a coin across the old, gouged table.

“Nothing?” Another coin clinked against its fellow.

Bess moistened her lips. “What do ye want to know?”

“Where I might find him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like him.”

Bess and Jen exchanged looks. Then Bess glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Ye might try the Broken Dove,” she said. “Or the Red Lady.”

“Or the Rutting Stallion by the river,” Jen added.

“Aye, that’s another of his houses,” Bess said. “He’s gots lots of places to hide in Lunnon. Best take yer friend and watch yer back when ye go looking for him. He don’t fight fair.”

“I didn’t think he did.”

James and Robbie finished their ale.

“Thank you for your time, ladies,” James said as he and Robbie got up to leave.

The girls’ hands flashed out to collect their piles of coins.

“Thankee, yer lordship,” Bess said, her eyes growing wide when she saw how much money was in her hand. “Come again, do.”

“Aye, and ask fer us,” Jen shouted after them.

“Gads, the girl—Jen—was crawling with livestock,” Robbie said as they stepped outside. “I doubt she’d bathed in the last week.”

“Last month, more like. Bathing is a luxury for the rich, my friend. And rich we are, especially for this neighborhood. I think you are going to get a chance for some exercise, but of the pugilistic rather than amorous variety.”

“What?”

“I may be wrong, but I believe two—no, three—large fellows are following us. I don’t suppose you see any sign of that hackney, do you?”

“No, blast it. Are you sure we’re being followed?”

“Don’t look! And yes, I’m sure. You don’t by chance know how to use a knife, do you?”

“No, I don’t by chance.”

“Pity.” James slowed his steps. “I think we’ll do better facing them now, before we reach that dark alley up ahead where they might have reinforcements. Help me over to the gutter and we’ll see if they are really following us or just out for a stroll on their own.”

James staggered and leaned into Robbie. He stumbled to the gutter and bent over as if to empty his stomach. He glanced back as he lowered his head to his knees. If the men behind them weren’t a threat, they should give the sick man and his companion a wide berth. Instead, they hurried towards them.

“Be ready,” James muttered to Robbie. “I don’t see any clubs or sticks, but they’re sure to have a knife or two.”

The one in the lead made a grab for James. Robbie stepped back instinctively, clearing James to swing out of his crouch and connect his right fist to the fellow’s jaw before the other man knew he’d been noticed. The man’s head snapped back, slamming into the second fellow’s nose. The first man crumpled to the pavement.

Ordinary street thugs would have fled at that point—one man down, another injured, the odds now even. Unfortunately, these were not ordinary street thugs. They had obviously been hired to do a job that they hesitated to leave undone.

Robbie was holding his own with thug number three. His science wasn’t textbook, but for street fights, dirty was best. The second fellow, his nose dripping blood, had slipped a knife from his boot. James freed his own knife, sidestepped the man on the ground, and slashed at Bloody Nose’s knife arm. His knife clattered to the pavement. James kicked it away and lashed back with his boot, hitting the man squarely on the knee. He howled, grabbed his leg and fell on the first attacker. At this point, Robbie’s opponent decided flight was in order and took off at a run.

“I don’t suppose the Watch is around when you want them, are they?” James wiped his knife on his breeches and slipped it back into his boot.

“What do we do with them?”

“Ask a question or two. Hey, there.” James hooked Bloody Nose’s good leg with his boot as the man tried to get to his feet, sending him crashing back to the ground. “Don’t hurry away. Your friend here isn’t much of a conversationalist, but I’m hoping you have something of interest to say.” He pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at the man. “Perhaps this will aid your memory.”

“I don’t know nuttin’, guvnor. God’s truth.” The man’s eyes kept darting back and forth, looking for an escape.

“I doubt if you could recognize God’s truth if it bit you on the arse. I suggest, however, that you try to come up with some truth if you want to keep your miserable hide intact and out of Newgate. Who hired you and what was your task?”

“Nobody hired us, guv. We’re just poor men, trying to make ends meet.”

James said a very short, very vulgar word. Bloody Nose scooted back, but James took a quick step forward and put his boot on the fellow’s bad knee.

“You know,” James said conversationally, “I’ve broken a man’s knee this way. Knees, in case you don’t know it, my friend, are designed to bend only one way. They can be made to bend the other, but it is not very pleasant—at least for the person to whom the knee is attached. I, for example, would not suffer a whit if I stepped down here.” James leaned a little of his weight on his foot and the man screamed.

“God’s balls, he said we was to jump a nob. Them knows how to prance around a ring, not really fight. He niver said we was to jump the likes of ye!”

“I will take that as a compliment. Now, tell me who ‘he’ is and where we may find him. If I like your answer, you will be free to go and take your slumbering friend with you.”

“I can’t. It’d mean m’life.” The man was obviously afraid, but James felt little compassion for someone who would gladly have sliced his liver out just moments before.

“It means your life if you don’t. I’m here and your employer is not. You’ve already felt how sharp my knife is.” James put a little more pressure on the knee. “Shall I step closer and let you feel it again? I wouldn’t want you to worry that it’s grown dull with disuse.”

“All right, all right!” Rivulets of sweat poured down the man’s face. “It was Dunlap that hired us. Now let me go, guv, like ye said ye would. I don’t know nuttin’ more.”

“Not even where we can find Mr. Dunlap this evening?”

“No! I swear it. We just gets the word that a job needs doing and when the job’s done, we gets our coin. We niver see Dunlap hisself. Don’t want to see him!”

“I imagine you don’t.” James sighed. “I really am sorry to have to ruin a perfectly good knee. However, you do have another, so perhaps you won’t miss it so much.” He leaned forward. The man screamed again.

“Stop! Stop! I’ll tell ye, just stop!”

James eased off. “I thought you might change your mind.”

The man swallowed. He looked around quickly, then whispered, “The Rutting Stallion, by the river. He’s usually there when he’s in Lunnon. But I can’t swear to it, guv. He could be at one of his other houses.”

James nodded. “Very well, I believe you have done your best.” He lifted his boot. “Good evening to you.”

The man scrambled to his feet and vanished into the alley up ahead before James finished speaking.

“He left his friend behind,” Robbie said.

James nodded. “An associate only, I’m afraid. I didn’t really expect him to take the body along. The dead weight would slow him down.”

“So what do we do with him?” Robbie eyed the man worriedly.

“Leave him. He’s starting to come around. I suggest we remove ourselves from the vicinity and find our way to this Rutting Stallion.”

“You’re very good with that knife. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“On the Peninsula. Not all the fighting was on the battlefield. I found it paid to be prepared.” James scanned the street on both sides, looking for any movement in the shadows.

“Can you show me some of those moves?”

“Yes, if you want. But fighting is always the last resort, Robbie. The first rule is to pick your battles. Know your escape routes at all times. And be aware of your surroundings so you don’t walk into trouble.” James steered Robbie toward the curb, skirting a dark doorway. “Walk as if you know where you are going and are eager to get there. And, if you can ride, do so.”

They reached Fleet Street and James hailed a hackney.

Dunlap poured himself a brandy. Certainly by now Alf and his companions had dispatched the duke. How thoughtful of Alvord to deliver himself so tidily. A pity about Westbrooke—Dunlap preferred three to one odds over three to two. However, Westbrooke wasn’t much of a fighter, so his presence was negligible. And Alf had taken his best crew.

No, Dunlap thought as he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk, if you are going to be foolish enough to visit the stews of London, you have to expect some unpleasant surprises. If he looked out his window now, he might even see the dark forms of two bodies bobbing down the Thames. He had told Alf not to weight the corpses with stones. Runyon wanted proof that the job was done, and the best proof was Alvord’s very dead body. Just to be safe, Dunlap had made arrangements for a boatman to find it in the morning. No use taking the chance that sun and water and the river birds would make Alvord’s corpse unrecognizable.

As soon as he knew Runyon was satisfied, he was leaving. He would not be coming back. He’d quite lost his taste for England.

There was a commotion in the hall. Dunlap frowned. It sounded as though Belle was yelling. Belle never yelled during business hours. After hours, when he licked through the layers and folds of her luscious flesh to the pearl hidden within,
then
she yelled. God, she yelled loud enough to wake the Watch, if the Watch were stupid enough to venture into this part of London. He took a sip of brandy. He would miss Belle, but then the world was littered with Belles. Clarisse in his Paris house, for instance, was a lusty wench. She had quite an assortment of entertaining bed tricks.

There was the noise again. It was definitely Belle.

“Yer grace! I told ye, Mr. Dunlap is not here. No, ye cannot go into that room.”

“Madam, I am going in there now. Please step aside. I will remove you by force if I must.”

Dunlap bolted out of his chair, sending brandy flying. Shit! Alvord was just outside his door.

He opened the window behind his desk and threw his leg over the sill as he heard the doorknob rattle. It would take even Alvord a moment to break that lock. By then he would be gone. He climbed down the sturdy vine he had planted years ago when he’d first purchased this brothel.

A wise man always had an alternate exit.

The room was empty, of course. James looked out the window, but there was no sign of Dunlap.

“A pity, Robbie, but I believe the bird has flown.”

“Damn. Shall we look at one of his other places?”

“No, I think not. I’m sure Mr. Dunlap is too wily to go to ground in an obvious location.” James nodded at the distraught madam. “I don’t suppose you know where your employer has headed, do you?”

“Oh, no, yer grace. I don’t know nuttin’.”

James sighed. “As I thought. Let’s go home, Robbie.”

They hailed a hackney. James was tired and sore. It had been a while since he had been in a street fight. A nice hot bath was what he wanted.

Unbidden, the image of Sarah flashed into his mind, Sarah with her hair down and her clothes off. Another part of his anatomy suddenly became stiff and sore.

He fervently wished he could relieve that ache as well tonight.

Chapter 13

“Lady Gladys, may I have a moment of your time? I wish to discuss my future.”

“Again? There’s nothing to discuss, miss, unless you want to discuss wedding plans.”

Sarah stared down at the sunlight streaming over the green and gold carpet of Lady Gladys’s sitting room.

“I’m not sure…I don’t think…I really can’t marry his grace.”

She heard two teacups clatter into their saucers.

“Lud, girl, you can’t jilt the Duke of Alvord.”

“Amanda is right, Sarah. The announcement has appeared in all the papers. It is too late to change your mind.”

Sarah swallowed. “Perhaps we could let the engagement stand until the end of the Season, and then—”

Lady Amanda snorted. “The way you’re going, miss, you’ll be
enceinte
by the end of the Season.”

“Amanda!”

“Well, it’s true, Gladys. The girl can’t keep her clothes on around James.”

Lady Gladys frowned at Sarah. “Amanda is correct on that score, Sarah. You have allowed my nephew shocking liberties.”

Sarah’s whole body burned with mortification. “I am sorry. I never meant…”

“Oh, don’t apologize. I’m certain James was extremely persuasive.”

“Extremely.”

“Amanda!” Lady Gladys looked back at Sarah. “Your, um, activities with James are beside the point, dear. Even if you had done no more than discuss the weather, you would still be committed to this marriage. The engagement has been made public. To cry off now would ruin your reputation.”

“If it weren’t already ruined by your scandalous activities at the Green Man,” Lady Amanda interjected.

Lady Gladys sighed. “There is that. And don’t think the
ton
will forget, Sarah. A broken engagement will burden you
and
James for the rest of your lives.”

“It can’t be as bad as that!”

“Yes, I’m afraid it can.” Lady Gladys patted the spot next to her on the settee. “Come sit down and we’ll discuss this rationally. I’m sure you’re just suffering from a case of bride nerves.”