Page 24 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
Lionel’s hands curled into fists as he fought his rage. Balfour had paid to have Kit killed before he even reached the colonies. Why? He’d already been convicted.
Then it struck him. Kit was a fighter. Even at nineteen he had been strong and resilient. If anyone could survive the crossing and seven years of dangerous life in the colonies, it would be Kit. And Kit would come home. Balfour must have realized that if Kit ever came back, he would be out for revenge.
You aren’t wrong, Balfour,Lionel thought grimly.
“Well, he lied to you. Hollingsworth is here in London. Now. We must do something,” Maynard said. “I’ve only just returned from Boston. We’ve expanded—”
“What? I told you not to sign any contracts without my approval. Your business troubles are what got you into this bloody mess in the first place. If we hadn’t talked that boy into being your partner, you never would’ve been able to collect the insurance on the stolen goods and send him away for the theft. And if I hadn’t helped you, you would be in debtors’ prison,” Balfour growled, and something crashed in the room.
“My sister won’t like that you’ve broken her favorite vase,” Maynard chided smugly.
Lionel’s eyes widened. Maynard’s sister was married to the Duke of Stoneleigh, a grizzled beast of a man who wielded great power in the House of Lords at the moment. What the devil was Balfour doing at Stoneleigh’s house? Balfour was meeting Maynard’s sister at her home... while her husband was not there.
A grin returned to Lionel’s face. It was all beginning to make sense, how these two men had been connected all those years ago and why they continued to help each other now. Now that he knew the truth, he would wield it like a sword.
“What your sister likes and doesn’t like ismyconcern,” Balfour said coldly. “Now, have you seen Kentwell with your own eyes, or is this merely gossip?”
“I haven’t seen him,” Maynard admitted. “But there’s mention that he’ll be attending most of the events this season, including a ball at Lord Lennox’s home.”
“Then I wantyouand I to attend Lennox’s ball and verify this rumor,” Balfour ordered. “If it is true, then we shall meet at the docks, the usual place. We’ll discuss our options then.”
“Fine,” Maynard said.
A door slammed, and Lionel guessed that Maynard had left. Lionel scaled the wall again. When he landed on the other side, a pretty housemaid was staring at him, a dustpan and a broom held in her hands. Her lips parted in shock, and fearing she would scream, Lionel put a finger to his lips and winked roguishly at her and tossed her a coin for her silence. She giggled softly as she caught the coin. He tipped his hat at her and then exited the mews to get back onto the street. He would trail Walsh and send Darius and Kit a message.
* * *
A deep voicepulled Suzannah from her thoughts. “Who is that?”
She was sketching again while she listened in the wings to another round of rehearsals. She’d been idly doodling while echoing the lines of the play underneath her breath. She knew them all by heart now. Suzannah glanced up to see Jude smiling down at her. He was a tall, muscular, rather beautiful man, but what she loved most about him was his kindness. Ever since he’d arrived from America, his natural joy had been infectious. Whenever he smiled, she smiled back.
She glanced back down at her sketch, frowning a little.
“You seem quite focused on this man,” Jude observed. “Is he a friend?”
A blush crept across Suzannah’s cheeks. The face she drew was the face that had haunted her as she tossed and turned in bed. The face of Kit Hollingsworth.
“I suppose I am quite focused. I have been commissioned to paint his portrait.”
Jude pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, studying the sketches. “Is that right? You must be pleased, then. You always told me you wished to paint portraits.”
“I... yes. I suppose. Jude, may I ask you something that may sound rather insensitive? If you don’t wish to answer once I ask, I completely understand.”
Jude’s warm brown eyes were full of compassion. “Of course. What do you wish to know?”
“Before you escaped from America, how long were you a slave?”
Jude’s gaze turned distant, and Suzannah immediately regretted her question.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s all right. I can talk about it. I was born into slavery. I had three masters in twenty years, each worse than the last. Just after I turned twenty, I managed to escape and sailed here.” Despite his smile, she saw the pain still in his eyes. “I’ve been free for four years now.”
She couldn’t begin to imagine how hard that must have been to escape and fight his way toward a life he deserved, knowing that so many others were left behind.
“How have you survived such horrors with compassion?” she asked. “Doesn’t that... I mean, you were treated terribly, no better than an animal. How are you not blind with rage?” The memory of Kit’s eyes flashed across her mind, the rage and pain that seemed so strong it would drown him.
Jude was quiet a long moment. “I decided some years ago that I measure my own worth. I let no other person tell me what my value is. I may have scars and memories darkened with despair, but they are only memories now. They have only the power I give them, or in my case, the power I refuse to give them. Each day I choose to be the person I have the right to be, and with that power of choice, I find joy and peace.”
