Page 104 of The Last Chance
The time passed slowly.
Mrs Lowry whimpered as the murmur of the city dulled and the barge slipped through the black water, gliding around the hulls of moored vessels like a giant eel. They reached the Isle of Dogs. The barge banged against the narrow jetty as the Scotsman dropped his oar and moored the boat.
“Agree with whatever I say,” Aaron whispered to Mrs Lowry. “Your life depends on it.”
“Wakey-wakey!” Pike loomed over Aaron, dragging him up by his waistcoat. “Reckon you wished you’d worn a coat tonight.” The lout chuckled as he cracked Aaron across the cheek, knocking his head sideways.
“Take him to the Pit,” the skipper said as Pike hauled Aaron onto the jetty. “I’ll deal with the problem here.”
Aaron opened his eyes and swayed as he pointed at the trembling Mrs Lowry. “She’s hidden Lucia as security,” he said, speaking like the drunken lords who frequent the Den. “Your mistress will want to question her before you dump her in the Thames.”
The skipper waved his hunting knife at Mrs Lowry and beckoned her ashore. “Tell me where the lass is, or ye’ll nae keep yer tongue.”
Mrs Lowry drew her shoulders back. “I’ll only speak to Natasha.”
Aaron let his head flop forward. “Throw her overboard. It will scupper the plans and save me killing her myself once I’m free of these bonds.”
Pike laughed. “You ain’t leaving the Pit alive.”
“Don’t laugh,” Aaron slurred. “I can beat you with my hands bound and while high on laudanum. Kill the woman.” He stumbled for dramatic effect. “I’ll enjoy watching Natasha put a lead ball between your brows.”
The brutes exchanged wary glances.
While lighting their lamps, they spoke about the risks of notgetting paid, before the Scot said, “Aye, best bring the woman to Mrs Chance. Let her decide.”
Natasha wasn’t waiting at the Ferry House Inn as the men expected. According to the stable hand, she left the tavern when a grey-haired nabob arrived. It was obvious the lad referred to the devious Earl of Berridge.
The two lackeys guarding the path behind the tavern stepped aside for the skipper. Aaron made a mental note of their faces, though few men in London would dare challenge the Chance brothers.
They cut through the fields, the marsh fog obscuring their vision, the ground squelching beneath their boots. Pike shoved Aaron in the back, wanting him to trip, as they followed the track across the boggy terrain to an area of raised ground near a row of alder trees.
The Dog Pit.
Aaron recalled the amber glow of twenty lit braziers, not the measly light from the lamps now hanging from metal crooks. He imagined the crowd gathered around the wooden platform where men fought for a heavy purse, the shouting and shoving, the thud when his opponent hit the boards. The stench of blood and sweat.
The Dog Pit was aptly named. It’s where men howled and whined and battled to be named pack leader. Tonight, it was a bleak and barren wilderness, where a corpse might remain undiscovered for months.
He saw Natasha, dressed in a green hooded cloak, her ebony ringlets framing a face of harsh angles and bitter lines. He remembered her cackle, the ugly laugh that followed every cruel jibe.
“You brought him.” Natasha rubbed her hands like he was a beef supper. She stopped a foot away, a predatory glint in her eyes, and stroked his bristled cheek. “Goodness, what ahandsome devil you are. It almost makes me wish I had kept you as a pet.”
“You’re too old for me, Natasha,” he stuttered, maintaining the facade. Her hair was grey at the temples, the corners of her mouth drooped with the gravity of age. “I prefer a woman with a heart.”
“Like Miss Lovelace?” Natasha tapped her finger to her lips. “What will become of your little concubine when she’s living all alone at The Burnished Jade? Poor Lord Howard cannot rescue her now he’s dead. There’s always Mr Parker. He would warm anyone’s bed.”
It took Hercules’ strength not to react. Joanna lived in his heart and mind, but he could not afford to let sentiment make him weak.
“What do you want?” Aaron said though knew full well.
“What any mother wants for her daughter. Stability.” Natasha’s arrogant gaze shifted to Mrs Lowry, then to the Scot. “Why is she still breathing? I told you. I can’t afford mistakes.”
The burly fellow squirmed. “She has the girl hidden somewhere. The men cannae find the young lass and are scouring the streets.”
Natasha’s eyes blazed. “What have you done with Lucia?”
“I’ll die before I tell you,” came Mrs Lowry’s brave reply.
“You’ll not be so brazen when Murray puts a blade to your throat.” Natasha glared at Pike. “Tie her up. We’ll dispose of her when we find my daughter.”
