The Cracksman's Kiss (16 page)

Michael shook his head and placed a comforting hand on his
wife. “No, dearest, we are French citizens through marriage and Cohen’s title.”

Clare looked relived and returned her attention to her son.

Kassie frowned. “What about me? If England and France go to war I will not be safe here.”

All eyes turned to her. Devon looked thoughtful for a minut
e. “What say you, Auggie, since Kassie was not married to Cohen would she be in danger if she stayed?”

Auggie set down his fork. “I think it would be wise to keep
her presence here a secret for now. If war were to break out, then perhaps we should consider havin’ documentation forged to support a claim of French citizenship.”

Kassie shook her head. “I cannot let you do that. If you
were caught you would all be in danger.”

“I’m sure ye will be safe until I return. If it appears ye are in
danger I kin take ye with me to Sicily.” Auggie patted her hand.

The talk at the table turn
ed to Auggie’s dig. Emily squeezed Kassie’s hand. “Do not worry—you will be safe from Everton and Napoleon here.”

The meal finished as nursemaids gathered the sleepy children and ushered them off to bed.
The men headed off to the study for after dinner port and cigars. Emily linked her arm with Kassie’s and led the way to the parlor, then sat at the piano and began to play a soft haunting melody. Clare handed Kassie a glass of dark liquid; she sipped and found the bitter almond and peach-flavored beverage to her liking. Leaning back in her chair, she listened as the four women sang a sad tune in French. The final notes of the music faded away by the time the men joined them.

Devon hugged his wife as they sat together on the settee. “
I think tonight, in honor of my brother, we shall devote the evening to fond remembrances of him.”

Everyone ra
ised their glasses. “To Cohen.”

Chapter
Twenty

Auggie inche
d his way along the hedge to the back gate of Everton’s mansion, pausing for a moment to listen. All was quiet except for the incessant chirping of crickets. He groped for the lock he was sure would be on the gate, but could find nothing. When he pushed on the iron clasp it swung open. He froze for a moment, suspicious the entry seemed too easy.

A shadowy movement along the garden path caught his atten
tion. Was it his imagination or was someone lurking in the dark? He drew his dagger, preferring its stealth compared to the noise of a pistol shot, and eased his bulk through the gap, cringing as his foot brushed a cluster of dried grass. The resulting tiny crackle sounded like a riotous boom in his mind. He slunk forward, his eyes trained on the spot where he had seen the mysterious shadow.

An arm closed around the column of his neck and squeezed. B
efore he could react, the click of a pistol being cocked against his temple warned him not to move. He froze. A low voice whispered in his ear. “Drop the knife.”

Auggie let the blade slip from his fingers. When the st
ranger’s grip relaxed he seized his opportunity. With a mighty heave he latched onto the arm and flipped his attacker over his shoulder. The man grunted as he landed on his back at Auggie’s feet. Before he could scramble to his feet, Auggie leaped on him. They struggled, rolling around, each trying to gain the upper hand on the other. Finally Auggie got a hand free and aimed a punch at the other man’s jaw.

“Bloody hell!” the man howled when the punch connected.

Auggie held back a second blow, his fist cocked in midair.
The voice sounds familiar.

His hesitation was enough for the man to gain the upper hand. His fist struck Auggie’s jaw.
Auggie rolled to the side, his ears ringing from the force of the blow. “Ye addle-brained bastard!”

“Auggie?”

Auggie shook his head to clear the ringing and rolled to his feet, sure now of the voice.

“Cohen? What the hell? I thought ye were dead!”

“Hush or we will both be dead!”

Auggie lowered his voice. “What happened to ye? I saw
the cannonball hit where ye was standin’.”

Cohen chuckled. “It did. The force of the blast shot me o
ut over the water. The wind was knocked out of me, but I managed to crawl up onto a floating piece of debris. When I came to I heard the baby crying. By some miracle Lucca was floating a few feet away in his basket, damp and unharmed.”

“Oh dear God! Kassie will
be elated the wee bairn is safe.”

“Kassie is alive?”

Auggie reached for his friend in the dark and squeezed his shoulder. “Aye, she is alive and well. I took her to Marseilles. She is there with yer family.”

He registered the relief and emotion in Cohen’s voice as
he clapped his hand on Auggie’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. I am forever in your debt.”

Auggie choked back his elation. “What are ye doing here?”

“I came for vengeance.”

“Me, too.”

Both men laughed.

Auggie stood up. “What’s yer plan?”

Cohen clambered to his feet. “I was going to break into his safe and steal everything of value the bastard has, you?”

Auggie clenched his teeth together. “I was gonna’ kill him.”

There was understanding in the silence stretching between them. Cohen’s voice broke the quiet. “So what do we do now?”

Auggie scanned his mind for options
. “We scare the bastard straight. Come on.”

They crept forward until they came to the veranda and p
aused to listen. All was quiet. Auggie waited as Cohen slipped up the steps and crouched down in front of the double doors.

The house was silent, not a light glowed anywhere inside tha
t he could tell. Auggie shifted with impatience. Finally his ears detected the tiny click of the lock as Cohen manipulated the tumblers to line up in order. Cohen motioned him forward as he eased open the door. Together they made their way inside the earl’s study. When Cohen crossed to the painting on the wall behind the desk, Auggie slunk to the study door. He opened it and glanced both ways down the hallway beyond. There was no one in sight. He kept his vigil as Cohen lit a candle and worked to open the safe.

“Auggie.”

He looked over his shoulder at Cohen.

“Come here and hold the bag.”

Auggie took one last peek out into the hall, and then hurried over. He picked up the satchel and held it up as Cohen swung the door to the safe open. Inside, artifacts of different countries were stacked, along with jewels of many shapes and sizes. Auggie was not surprised to see the famed French ‘Tears of God’ necklace, the elaborate piece consisting of thirty-one blood red rubies, reportedly stolen five years before from Napoleon’s mistress.

Cohen removed piece after piece of stolen jewels and ill-got
ten artifacts from their hiding place. Auggie noted he did not touch any of the money. Knowing Cohen like he did, the jewels and artifacts would be returned to those who lost them, for financial gain to the Emperor, of course. When the last piece was placed in the satchel he closed the top. Cohen shut the safe and grinned.

The gas lights flickered to life. Both men spun toward the door
. The earl and his butler stood framed in the doorway, the latter with a pistol pointed in their direction.

“I would say it is nice to see you again, Ashton, but I would be lying.” The earl sneered.

Cohen’s eyes flashed. “Why stop lying now, Everton?”

The earl’s sneer grew broader. “You are awful cocksure of you
rself for one who will soon be swinging from the hangman’s noose.”

“You are the one who will hang, Everton. All of the stolen j
ewels I just found in your safe prove beyond a doubt you are a thief.”

The earl strolled into the room. “I have to hand it to you
, Ashton, you are a first rate cracksman. Too bad you wanted to play above one’s touch. I could have used a man like you.”

Cohen’s fists clenched, the muscles along his jaw twitch
ing in irritation. “I may be of humble birth, but I draw the line at working for a lecher like you.”

“A street rat with honor. How droll.” The earl chuckled, hob
bling forward and snatching the satchel from Auggie’s hand. “Too bad your honor will not save you this time. Where is the girl and the child?”

“She is dead. You killed her just like you killed your last
wife, Everton.” Cohen’s facial expression did not change.

The earl shrugged, not even pretending sorrow. “And the child?”

Cohen glared at him. “My son is hidden away where you will never get your vile hands on him.”

Lord Everton shook his head. “You nick ninny, you did me a
favor. Hand over your merry-begotten and I will let you go.”

Cohen snorted. “Like hell you will, the moment you have
your hands on the boy you will put a bullet in my head.”

The earl looked over his shoulder. “Bernard, take these two
down to the river. Kill them anyway you like, and leave their bodies for the fish.”

Auggie peered at Cohen from the corner of his eye as Bernard motioned for them to exit the
room. He picked up on the silent signal Cohen sent and walked ahead of him to the door. When he drew level with Bernard he reacted, grabbing the barrel of the gun and wrenching it from the startled butler’s hands. By the time he swung the weapon on the man, Cohen’s arm was wrapped around the earl’s neck.

“I believe if I were to feed your scrawny carcass to the fish
they would spit you back out,” Cohen growled with a triumphant look.

The butler looked back and forth between Auggie and Cohen.

“Do not do it,” Auggie warned.

“Now, as I see it, Everton, you have a choice. You can give
me the satchel and let us go on our way, or we can call the constables to sort all this out. I think they would be very interested in how you got all those stolen jewels.”

The earl glared at Auggie, his eyes almost bulging from their sockets as Cohen tig
htened his grip. He wheezed and nodded.

Cohen released him. The earl rubbed his neck and glared a
t him. “If you ever set foot in England again, you son of a dockside whore, I will see you suffer an agonizingly slow death,” the earl croaked.

“I have no reason to stay in England.” Cohen reached for the satchel on the desk.

At the same time Bernard, drove his shoulder into Auggie knocking him off balance. Auggie tumbled backward as the gun went off. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the earl wield his cane at Cohen’s head. He crashed to the floor, his attention shifting back to Bernard as they fought for control of the gun. The butler was a match for him in strength and size. They rolled back and forth along the floor, each trying to get purchase against the other.

Auggie glanced up in time to see the steel glint of the knife
tip attached to the end of the earl’s cane catch Cohen’s arm. The fabric rent and blood seeped through the dangling cloth of Cohen’s coat. His face took on a pained look, mixed with anger, as he jumped back out of reach of the vicious blade. The earl swept the cane back across the top of the desk in an attempt to deliver another savage attack. This time it caught air, and then the base of the candle on the desk. It toppled over igniting the papers on the top.

Auggie grunted and forced the barrel of the gun up under Ber
nard’s chin as the flames grew, engulfing the drapes on the windows. Thick smoke billowed into the air as the flames licked their way up the wall to the ceiling. Breaking the butler’s hold, he flopped on top of the man, driving his fist into the butler’s jaw. The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. Panting and exhausted, Auggie pushed off the man. He looked toward the desk in time to see the earl slash at Cohen again. The tip of the blade left a bloody trail across his collarbone, and then impaled itself into the chair behind. The earl tried to jerk the blade free as Cohen stumbled around to the other side of the desk. Before he could loosen his weapon, the heavy iron rod holding the flaming curtains fell from its purchase on the wall, hitting the earl in the head. He crumpled to the ground, and his body was consumed in flames.

Auggie lurched to his feet. “Cohen! Let’s get out of here!”

Cohen shook his head. “We have to get them out,” he yelled over the roar of the flames.

Grabbing the butler by the ankles, Auggie dragged him throu
gh the fire to the glass doors, kicked them open, and pulled the unconscious man out onto the veranda. He looked back, coughing and choking.
Where is Cohen?
A moment later Cohen stumbled through the door, dragging the earl’s charred body behind him. He collapsed on the floor, gagging and coughing. Auggie hurried to the earl. One look at the elderly man told him he was already dead. Lifeless eyes stared back at him from the blackened face. Auggie tossed his tartan over the smoking remains. Fire bells clanged nearby, letting it be known the blaze was spotted and help was on the way. Servants hurried from the house and gathered on the lawn.

The butler moaned, and then coughed. He sat up and rubbed h
is jaw, his eyes widening as he took in the flames crawling along the outer wall. “His lordship!”

Auggie held the man as he sought to scramble back into the carnage.
“It is too late, your employer is dead.”

“What about the safe?” The man struggled, his eyes wild.

“The safe is made of iron, it should survive the fire.” Auggie assured him. “Why?”

The butler bowed his head. “The earl’s will is in there. He left everything to
me. I served him for years, doing things I would rather not remember because he was going to leave everything to me. I ordered Ashton’s ship sunk. I wanted to make sure Kassie and the child she was not supposed to have would not inherit what is mine.”

Cohen fixed the servant with an incredulous stare. “You tried to kill us?”

The servant nodded. “The potion was supposed to keep her from getting with child.”

Auggie grabbed the man by his shirt front. “What about my
father and sister? Did ye cause their deaths, too?”

The butler shook his head. “Nay! I did not. I swear on my
mother’s grave, but I know the men who did.”

The clanging bells grew louder as the fire wagons rolled
onto the lawn. Fire boys jumped from the horse-drawn contraptions and began to work the hand pumps to spray the water.

The constables hurried forward. “What happened here?”

Auggie shoved the butler into his arms. “It is a long story best told over a bottle of port,” he said with a grim shake of his head. He eyed the blood dripping from Cohen’s arm. “And after my friend here gets some stitches.”