Page 47 of Wicked Designs
“She better be because there will be hell to pay if she is not.”
CHAPTER 9
The day was exceedingly fine with sunny skies and a light breeze. Emily leaned down to let the knee-high silky grass brush under her palms. Cedric and Charles walked on either side of her, carrying on a conversation while Emily listened. Penelope, not tethered by a leash, moved about several yards ahead. The small puppy worked to jump through grass, a good five inches above her head. Emily smiled at the pup’s black nose trained to the ground. She sniffed and then bounded over the grass only to resume sniffing again.
“So then,” said Cedric, “I said to the sheikh, ‘Bet you eight hundred pounds I can win this hand,’ and the sheikh, the haughty bastard, replied, ‘Let us make the wager on something more valuable. How would a pair of Arabian mares suit you?’ And I told him I would accept that wager.”
“Are these the mares you mean to breed with Anne Chessley’s stallion?”
“The very pair!” Cedric laughed.
“You won the horses from the sheikh then?” Emily asked in amazement. “Wasn’t he angry?” She envisioned Cedric playing the winning hand before an olive-skinned sheikh whose eyes flamed when he lost his horses.
Cedric swung his cane low over the grass as he strolled.
“Was he angry? The man was livid! But I won fair and square in front of a dozen pairs of eyes. Honestly, foreigners don’t know how to play whist. Too much impulse and bravado.”
A wry smile creased Charles’s lips. “I take it he was fond of his horses?”
“Fond of their lineage,” Cedric clarified. “The mares were both sired by his best stallion, an Arabian called Firestorm. Even I couldn’t afford to make an offer to buy them.”
Emily was in awe. She’d seen an Arabian once, at a country fair, which had performed jumps and pawed the ground and danced. Its coat had been white, like the first snowfall.
Unlike most horses, the nose of Arabians curved up a little at the end. Their equine beauty was alluring and mysterious, and their trim legs lent them an air of delicacy while providing much strength. Their unique build also contributed to fast runs.
“Why aren’t there more pure Arabians in England? I’ve only ever seen one in my life.” Many Englishmen boasted that they owned fine Arabians, but those horseshad been bred in England over countless generations. It was rare for Arabians fresh from the Middle East to arrive on English shores.
“The sheikhs jealously guard their horses. People have been killed over them.”
“I’m rather surprised the sheikh let you walk out alive,” Charles said.
“He let me leave the card room, but he told me one day I’d die a horrible death and he’d get his horses back.”
Emily gasped, but the men only chuckled. Emily saw nothing humorous in a death threat.
“What did you say to that?” Charles asked.
“I told him if he wanted revenge for an honest game of cards he’d best wait his turn because I’ve done far worse to better men.” Little in the world scared either of these men.
“But surely you don’t mean that, Cedric. You have your flaws as all men do. But you are also kind. You wouldn’t do something to a person undeserving.” Emily hoped it was the truth. She knew they were capable of kindness, but an impish curiosity drove her to learn whether these two men would admit to their wicked pasts.
“Are you claiming then that women have no flaws?” There was a merry twinkle in Cedric’s eyes.
“Hmm. I know of a flaw she has…” Charles spun and caught Emily about the waist, tickling her so that she dissolved into giggles and gasps for help.
“We try to be kind to you, kitten, because you are so helpless and sweet.”
Cedric crossed his arms and laughed as she struggled to escape Charles.
“Oh help! Cedric, make him stop!” She tried to free herself, but Charles would have none of it. Cedric gave a well-placed whack of his cane to the back of Charles’s legs. Emily broke free and skirted around Cedric using him as a human shield, as Charles did his best to stalk her like a jungle cat.
“Enough!” Cedric dodged Charles’s reaching hands and fended off Penelope as the pup joined in the fun. Finally Charles relented and let Emily catch her breath.
Cedric held out a hand. “Come along, Emily.” She darted forward, sliding her hand in his, laughing as Charles told an amusing tale about his latest boxing match. It was a perfect day. Almost. Only one thing was missing. One person.
Whitechapel was a despicable area.During the day, carts and people selling cheap wares littered the streets. By night, the area transformed into a haven for prostitutes, degenerates and murderers. Side streets cut and slashed their way through the area, weaving a deadly maze of filth and danger.
Blankenship kept to the shadows. Though a large man, more than able to protect himself in a fight, he’d never believed that any such fight should be fair. He kept his palm tucked inside his jacket on a Manton-made pistol.
