Page 2 of A Masked Lady for Mr. Kenworthy
“I see you understand me now, Cousin,” he said, sneering. “That means I do not need to say that you must do exactly what I tell you.”
Faye glanced up at Mayson, failing to control the trembling that had taken over her body. She had no idea what he was about to say, but she knew the only response she could give in that moment was a weak nod of her head. Her cousin, still sneering, nodded once more.
“Very good,” he drawled, as though praising a young child. Then, his expression became a scowl. “Now, listen well. I have made arrangements for you to attend the masquerade ball the Marquess of Turlington is soon to be hosting. Do not get excited, though, little Cousin. This is far from benevolence on my part. You will be going for the sole purpose of getting into Lord Turlington’s study unobserved and stealing a black leather journal he has in his possession. I fancy you are unacquainted with such matters of stealth, but you will do as I say.”
Faye’s mouth fell open, and she stared at her cousin with equal parts of fear and disbelief. She shook her head slowly, his words temporarily making her forget all about the gun in his hand.
“What in thunder are you about, Cousin? You must be mad,” she breathed. “You cannot ask such a thing of me.”
Mayson shifted his pistol hand, instantly refreshing her memory of its presence. He narrowed his eyes at her and snarled.
“You shall guard your tongue, little girl. I am not asking such a thing of you,” he said. “I am demanding it. And what’s more, you will do as I say.”
Anger began to flood through Faye. It was one thing for him to come in and treat her and her mother so poorly. It was a whole different matter to try to get either of them involved in criminal activity. She glared at him with angry defiance, balling up her hands at her sides.
“And what will you do if I do not?” she asked. “Shoot me, right here in my home? You would never get away with such a crime. You and I both know that.”
To her horror, Mayson’s smile widened. The pistol made a clicking sound in his hand, and he raised it ever so slightly.
“Do not be so sure of yourself, little Cousin,” he said. “You might be surprised what one can get away with. Especially if there are no witnesses to certain events.”
Faye shook her head, bewildered.
“Mother may be unwell, but she would certainly hear a gunshot,” she said, scoffing. “And she would know very well that I did not shoot myself.”
Mayson laughed wildly.
“You innocent little girl,” he said. “If your mother does not receive the care she needs, she will not live long enough to bear witness to anything.”
Faye furrowed her brows, momentarily confused. She looked at her cousin’s face, and the smug knowingness of his expression gave her the answer. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, shaking her head in disbelief.
“You would not dare,” she whispered, already knowing what her cousin’s response would be.
Mayson nodded, smirking.
“I would indeed,” he said. “If you do not do exactly as I tell you, I will see to it that your mother never receives any kind of medical treatment ever again.” Faye stared at her cousin, furious with the tears that began to stream down her cheeks. It was one thing for Mayson to know he had deeply upset her. It was another for him also to gain the satisfaction of seeing her cry. It was clear to her that her cousin was a terrible, cold monster. It was also apparent that she truly did not have a choice.
As unable to answer Mayson as she was unwilling, Faye merely lifted her chin, scowling at her cousin despite her trembling lip and tear-stained face. Then, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the study. Mayson’s howling laughter followed her out of the room and down the passageway told her he understood perfectly that she would do as he demanded, even though she had not verbally agreed. The thought made her ill, and she rushed up to her bedchambers before her stomach could reject the meager food she had attempted to eat that day, right there on the hallway floor. She wanted to check in on her mother, but she did not want the dowager countess to see her in such distress. How could she ever tell her mother what Mayson had just demanded she does for him? Could she ever look her mother in the eyes again if she did it? As she realized she had no choice, she slid down onto the floor, her back against the door. She covered her face with her hands and spent the next few hours crying softly.
Despite exhausting herself crying and worrying about the task Mayson was forcing on her, Faye lay awake in her bed that night, unable to close her eyes. She kept trying to tell herself that things would be all right if she refused Mayson’s demand. However, she knew her mother’s condition had worsened drastically over the past few weeks, and she was barely surviving as things were. If Mayson cut off her medical care, as he had threatened to do, she would surely die before Faye could find another way to take care of her. Her heart began to ache as she thought about her late father. How could he ever have left them in such a dire situation? And how could he have ever allowed them to end up under the guardianship of such a horrible man? She bit her lip and tried to reign in her blameful thoughts. Surely, her father had not known her cousin was involved in any sort of criminal activity. Even if her father’s businesses were not running as profitably as she had believed they were, he would never have turned to any sort of criminal activity to support his family after his demise. Would he?
Faye shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts. She refused to believe her father would ever be so irresponsible with her and her mother’s wellbeing, even if he had allowed his businesses to flounder. Perhaps, he’d had plans to rebuild his fortune, but he had died before he could see them through. Whatever the case, she knew he had loved her mother and her dearly and that he would never have purposely jeopardized their safety once he was no longer there to protect them. Besides, none of that mattered now. What mattered was her mother and how close she was to follow her husband into death.
As the reality crashed down onto Faye, she began to cry again. She had watched her mother rapidly turn into the hollow, weak husk of the woman she had once been, who now lay ill in a bed which appeared far too large for her. She had witnessed the countess’s once lush, light-brown hair turn gray in a matter of months and seen the light gradually dim in her sky-blue eyes. The dowager countess, who had only recently looked more like an older sister than Faye’s mother, now resembled her grandmother. And now, she had to face the real possibility that her mother might not live to see another Christmastide. She loved her mother dearly, and there were still so many times to look forward when she had always dreamed of having her mother there by her side, such as her wedding day and the birth of her own children. It was unbearable to think that those times might now never come to pass. And the only way she could prevent such a devastating thing as losing her mother from happening was to comply with Mayson’s demands.
Faye shuddered, wiping vainly at the tears in her eyes. It was one thing for Mayson to be a criminal, but for him to blackmail her into joining him in his life of crime by holding her mother’s life over her head was abhorrent. It showed Faye that her cousin had no remorse, that he was indeed what one would call evil. Only a man with no soul could be so horrible to his own flesh and blood and take pleasure in their suffering. She wished desperately that there was someone she could turn to who could help her and her mother out of their predicament. But, with her father gone and no other relatives that she knew of, there seemed to be no one to rescue them both before it was too late.
Chapter One
Thomas Kenworthy slowed his pace and brushed a strand of ash-blond hair out of his blue-green eyes. He held his breath, covering the lower half of his face with one hand to regain control of his breathing before he took another step forward. After a moment, he lowered his hand, running it through his circle beard in a vain attempt to soothe his raw nerves. At just under six feet, he had to slouch to pass beneath a broken archway down the dark alley he was traversing, but he did so with practiced stealth. The smells assaulting his upturned nose were nauseating, but he forced himself to take another quick, deep breath and hold it as he continued with his mission.
A sudden movement ahead of him in the alleyway refocused his attention. Thomas narrowed his eyes and watched the stranger he had been tracking, careful to make a note of his every movement so as not to lose sight of him. He saw the stranger was now walking a bit faster, so he picked up his own pace. As he walked, he scanned the ground, searching for any holes or obstacles littering the broken road before him, so he did not step on something that would make a sound and alert the stranger to the fact he was being followed. His heart leapt into this throat when the man stopped abruptly and looked over his shoulder, and Thomas had to press himself against the wall beside him. For a horrible moment, Thomas was sure the man had detected him, and he held his breath.
After a moment, he glanced toward the man and saw he had knelt and was making a tugging motion. Thomas realized the fellow had gotten his trousers caught on a jagged piece of brick and was trying to free himself with relief. Thomas waited until the man began moving again before stepping away from the wall and continuing his pursuit. He saw the alley was coming to an end soon, and, once more, Thomas stopped. He did not know this part of London well, and he could not see clearly enough to tell if the path stopped at a dead end. A moment later, the man ahead of him turned to his left and disappeared around a corner.
Thomas moved faster, walking on his toes to keep his footsteps quiet. He could not afford to let the man get away from him, but he did not wish to run straight into him either, should the path be blocked or come to a sudden end ahead. He clung to the wall as he reached the corner, slowly peeking around it to assess the situation. The man was walking several paces ahead of him, and Thomas could see, just ahead, the little light that had illuminated the road thus far was all but gone. If he was going to act, it must be now.
He crouched low and sped up his steps, remaining as quiet as he could. He reached the man from behind without being detected and wrapped his arm around the fellow’s neck. Fortunately, he caught the man completely unaware and was able to reach into his jacket pocket and pull out the cloth he had previously doused with laudanum before the man had time to understand what was happening. It took little effort to place the cloth over the man’s mouth and nose, and he only struggled against Thomas’s grasp for a moment before his body began to go limp.
