Page 69 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
“Thomas, let’s go,” Walsh begged.
“Not yet. We have to set the scene for him, just like in one of those silly little plays you paint backdrops for. Yes, we’ll give Kentwell quite the tableau...” He handed the lantern to Walsh, who set it down on a nearby crate. Balfour came toward her, his eyes gleaming dangerously.
Suzannah reached up into the coils of her hair, found a thin paintbrush that she usually used to keep her hair in place, and the moment Balfour lunged, she struck, plunging the sharp end of the paintbrush into his face. It sank into his cheek, blood spraying out, and he howled. But her victory was short-lived.
“I’ll wring your little neck!” he snarled and grabbed her arm, flinging her toward the wall. She struck the wood paneling and lights dotted across her eyes, but she turned back to face Balfour, teeth bared, ready to fight them with all of her strength.
17
Kit crept up the rope ladder that hung down the side of theWind Sprite’s hull as it floated in the harbor. He left the small dinghy that he’d rowed up to theWind Spriteand tied it to the ladder. The ship wasn’t moored close to the docks, but was anchored farther out on the water and reachable only by boat.
Everything was quiet, but that was to be expected. It was a trap, after all. As he reached the quarterdeck, he checked the ship, searching for his enemies and his wife. No guards were present—it was as if the ship was deserted. He had commanded his friends to wait for him on the dock and watch for trouble. Felix was to fetch the nearest constable and lie in wait for Kit to signal when he’d found Suzannah and she was safe. No matter what happened aboard the ship, he didn’t want Walsh, Balfour, or their hired men to flee, and the dock was the only avenue of escape.
He located the gangway down to the deck below and began searching room by room, one of the daggers ready in his palm. He neither saw nor heard a single thing. Walsh must have sent the entire crew off the ship before Kit arrived. It wasn’t until he went down another deck that he finally found Suzannah. She lay in a storeroom, her bright green gown trailing out from behind some crates. Someone had set a lantern on one of the crates nearby, illuminating the room.
He knew that if he entered that room he might never walk out of it again, but if he didn’t... he would not have the chance to get his wife to safety. For the first time in seven years, revenge was not the most important thing on his mind. Love was. Love for Suzannah was the only thing that mattered.
“Suzannah!” He rushed toward her and rolled her onto her back. She was bleeding from her bottom lip, and a heavy red mark covered one side of her face. Someone had struck her. Her gown was in tatters with blood was splattered over her bodice. Other than her face, she seemed unharmed, so the blood was clearly someone else’s, which meant Suzannah had put up quite a fight. She moaned as he cradled her in his arms and knelt on the floor. He could barely speak as Suzannah’s lashes fluttered open.
“Please, be all right,” he breathed. “Please,” he murmured as he held her as the treasure she was to him. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
“Kit... you’re here...” She started to smile, but the smile slipped into horror as the color drained from her face. “You must leave...”
“It’s too late for that,” Balfour said from behind Kit, who stiffened but didn’t take his eyes off his wife. “Drop your weapon.”
“Let me put Suzannah ashore and you can do what you wish with me,” Kit said, his hand still clutching the dagger.
Suzannah grasped his arms, frantically shaking her head. “No,” she begged. “We will face this together,” she insisted as she tried to sit up.
“No, you must go,” Kit whispered. “The others are waiting to take you to safety.” He spoke the words so softly that only she could hear them.
“I’m afraid you’re both staying,” Balfour interrupted. “Dropthe blade.”
Kit slowly crouched and set the blade down upon the floor. Then he helped Suzannah stand and put her behind him as he faced Balfour. The man had a pistol aimed at Kit’s chest. Walsh was hovering nearby. His gaze darted nervously around. Here they were, the men who had ruined his life, believing they had gotten the better of him.
For years, he’d thought they had succeeded in destroying him, but they had failed in the one way that mattered. He had someone to live for, not a cause to die for. So long as Suzannah was alive, Kit would fight to save her.
“She has no part in this. You have me. Let her go,” Kit insisted.
Balfour ignored him. “Fetch the manacles,” he said to Walsh, who produced a pair of iron shackles.
Balfour pointed at an iron bar half-embedded in the wood wall where crates were tied up to keep them from shifting. “Bind his hand to that railing.”
Walsh approached Kit, forcing himself between Kit and Suzannah, who had to take a shaky few steps backward from them. Kit held still as the other man clicked one manacle around his wrist and the other to the iron bar. Every instinct in him shouted that he should grab Walsh by the throat, but if he did, Balfour would shoot either him or Suzannah.
When Walsh finished securing one of Kit’s hands to the wall, he retreated to stand behind Balfour.
“There, you have me. I cannot do anything against you, Balfour. Now let my wife go,” Kit pressed. He hoped that by agreeing to Balfour’s demands he could buy Suzannah’s safety.
Balfour studied the pistol he held as if he was bored. “We had everything we wanted. The company, the money. You’d played your part. I don’t fault you for surviving your time in Australia, you know. Not really. But you should have had the good sense to stay there. To come back to England on a foolish, pointless quest for vengeance. Such pride. I’d have thought the colonies would have beaten that out of you.” His gaze moved from the gun to Kit, his eyes cold. Had Kit been alone with Balfour, he would have laughed at the challenge his gaze held, but Suzannah was in danger, and he could only think about doing what he must to protect her.
“You can still walk away, Balfour. You don’t have to do this. You and Walsh can leave England.”
Walsh started to nod as he agreed with Kit’s suggestion.
“Me? Why should I have to go anywhere? You bankrupted Maynard, and as for me... Well, you’ve ruined everything. I’m being investigated for all of the cases where I sent people to the noose or had them transported. Do you know how hard it is to open an inquiry into a magistrate?” Balfour snapped. “We are like gods among men. And yet somehow you lined the right pockets with coin, and now everything I’ve built will be destroyed. I am owed all that I’ve taken.”
“You sent innocent people to die,” Kit replied.
