Page 112 of Wicked Designs
“Who moved the closet there?” he thundered, then entered the next room down and once more slammed the door.
CHAPTER 18
Jim Tanner lingered in the alley just off Curzon Street, and bided his time. A blade lay in his palm, which he kept in the pocket of his long black coat, ready to sink it into the flesh of those pompous lords across the street if they interfered with his mission.
Soon, he promised himself.
His employer had urged him to wait, to snatch the girl without a fight. The order had been issued not out of any need to prevent violence, but to give Tanner time to get away before the alarm was raised. Bloodshed would shorten his exit strategy.
Blankenship was a fool to want nothing more than the little chit. The house he stared at now was probably filled with expensive items he could fetch a fair price for on Shoe Lane or Saffron Hill. Thenouveau richewere only too happy to buy aristocratic items that would foolthetoninto thinking they weren’t the descendants of lower or middleclass men.
He’d been only too eager to steal the Parr girl away from Essex when Blankenship agreed to his hefty price. He knew what lay in store for the girl, but that wasn’t his concern. This was a commission, nothing more.
Tanner’s extensive connections reached from the sewers to the houses of power, from valets to night watchmen and toshers. Word had come almost immediately when Essex and his friends had arrived in London. The coach went straight to Curzon Street where Viscount Sheridan lived and the Parr girl hadn’t left the house since she arrived.
From his spot in the alley, he had watched through one of the windows as the Parr girl quarreled with Essex. Unable to hear words, he read their body language, and it was clear enough that trouble brewed between the lovers.
Evening wore into night and shadows melded into black pools across Curzon Street. Tanner scanned the night sky, but clouds had blotted out the moon.
Tanner spat into the darkness of the alley. What woman was worth five hundred pounds, Tanner didn’t know. The old man should have saved his money and bought a classy whore. But no, his employer wanted some innocent untrained lamb who would spend the whole night screaming in pain while Blankenship violated her. Pity. But again, not his concern.
He ran a hand through his hair and scowled. How would he get the girl out of the house with all of those menwatching her every move? Jewelry, paintings, he’d even stolen a prized King Charles spaniel once. But a woman? With half a dozen guards? Tricky, but not impossible.
Tanner ducked back into the alley as he caught sight of a footman who left the side door of the townhouse to empty a bucket of dirty water by the gutter. The footman headed back inside.
Tanner escaped the shadows, flipped the handle of his blade, and cracked it over the footman’s head.
The footman crumpled, bucket crashing into the marble floor just inside the doorway. Tanner grabbed the unconscious man’s arms and dragged him behind a counter in the small entryway.
With the house dark, most of the other servants were no doubt asleep.
Tanner took the man’s coat and pants—enough to avoid suspicion inside if seen at a distance. He stepped over the footman’s body, leaving the man alive. He didn’t kill servants. They too suffered under the oppression of the rich.
As he moved through the lushly decorated townhouse, his mood blackened further. A dark part of him would have been happy to slit every noble throat in this house, if he’d been paid for it.
He heard voices above him, and Tanner ducked beneath the main staircase.
“Is she finally asleep, Cedric?” a man asked.
“She cried herself to sleep, poor thing. I didn’t know women were so full of tears. I thought she’d flood the upstairs rooms.”
“She still won’t agree to marry Godric?”
“No. She won’t have him, or anyone else.”
“Bloody hell. Is she daft?”
“Don’t ask me to explain the workings of the female mind, Jonathan.”
The first man sighed. “Where’s Charles?”
“He’s gone to catch a few hours sleep. Why don’t you have a rest yourself? It’s been a long day for all of us.”
“You wouldn’t mind? What about Blankenship?”
“Tomorrow we’ll lead his lackeys all over London while those love birds get some sense beaten into them.”
Tanner grinned.Good plan. Pity it was too late.
