Page 50 of Wicked Designs
Ashton intervened. “Mr. Parr, just how much of a claim does Blankenship have on Em…uh…your niece?”
Parr’s business demeanor returned. “Ironclad. I exchanged her for my debt. He agreed to honor his end of the bargain by marrying her. Unless, of course, she is no longer a maiden.”
“And then she’s free of him?” If so, Godric had victory within his sights again.
“No. Should she come to him devoid of her innocence, he’ll keep her as his mistress.”
“And you agreed to this?” The blood drained from Godric’s face, not with horror, but rage.
Parr looked down, no longer able to mask some sense of guilt. “I did…and it was a devil’s bargain. But what choice do I have? If Blankenship demands payment, I will be destroyed. I am not without sympathy for the girl, but if you knew Blankenship as I do, you would understand.”
“We are not unfamiliar with his influence,” said Ashton.
“Are you? The financial ruin of his enemies is only part of the man’s reputation.”
“And what of Emily? Has she no say in the matter?” Godric interjected.
“She’ll do whatever is necessary. What other use is she?”
Godric planted him a facer and Parr fell back in his chair, clutching his mouth.
“That won’t happen.”
Parr’s tongue probed his teeth, showing blood. “Oh? Why not?”
“Emily is no longer your concern. You won’t have her to settle your debts.”
Albert relishedthe pain with a small amount of satisfaction. Essex did have Emily, and what’s more, she had caught his fancy. Who knew how long the Duke would enjoy her, but at least for now, she was under his protection. Blankenship would be hard pressed to find a way to get to her. Perhaps it was for the best. Blankenship certainly couldn’t hold him responsible for this. He might be able to work this to his advantage and remind his niece of the kindness he’d shown her by being her guardian. Perhaps Essex would forgive Albert’s debt for his efforts to take care of Emily.
The blow to his jaw proved that Emily was in far better hands than his. A man simply did not hit other men in polite society unless their emotions ran a thousand leagues deep.
Albert smiled, winced, then smiled again. It seemed Emily’s sweet temperament was paying off. But for her sake he hoped Blankenship’s ambitions for her were not as obsessive as they seemed to be.
Jim Tanner scoutedthe darkened street ahead of him. It was one of many clever routes in St. Giles where he could slip away into the impenetrable darkness, evading any who might pursue him. It was also the perfect place to meet a new client. Evening was drawing closer and shadows stretched over the maze of the rookery, darkening pawnshop windows and hovels. He had received a note through his connections that a man wished to pay him highly to recover a young lady from the clutches of a group of dangerous noblemen. The prospect had intrigued him enough to agree to meet the potential client an hour after sunset.
Scuffling steps in the darkness ahead had him reaching for the blade he kept tucked in his coat.
“I say…are you there?” A low rumbling voice demanded. “I brought the information and a down payment.” The voice softened to a rough whisper as a tall, wide man stepped into a pool of fading light only a short distance away.
Tanner revealed himself, enjoying the gasp and thejump from the potential client. He’d been only four feet away, and the man never noticed.
“So you need me to acquire a lady?” Tanner clarified.
“Yes. She’s currently hidden at the Duke of Essex’s estate. Five men are guarding her at all times.” The man said as he handed over a scrap of parchment with directions to the estate.
Tanner read the paper and then ripped it to pieces, discarding them in a pool of dirty water where the ink would smudge beyond readability.
He’d never crossed paths with the Duke of Essex, but he was sure to be like every other pompous aristocrat. Bored, rich and allowed far too much power.
As a young man, Tanner had felt such loyalty towards these men, especially his master, a middle-aged viscount. As a footman, he’d seen to the man’s every need, expecting no extra kindness or treatment for his hard work. There had been pride, great pride in one’s duty to his master.
At least until his master had discovered Tanner’s sweetheart and violated her. Lacy. Tanner’s blood boiled at the memory of finding her bent over his master’s bed, skirts up around her hips, taking whatever his master wished to give her. She hadn’t protested, no woman in the service ever did. To refuse their master was cause for dismissal.
Rage had destroyed Tanner’s sanity. He’d killed his master, killed the man with his bare hands and then fled. Now, seven years later, he’d established himself as a professional thief for hire, one of the finest. The deft of hand talents, and the ability to go unseen by everyone, afootman’s trade, worked even better for him as a specialist in acquiring items desired by paying clients.
The man, Thomas Blankenship, was certainly able to pay him well. His sources had confirmed it, though they also warned he was dangerous and deceptive.
“I want five hundred pounds upon delivery of the girl. Crossing a duke will require a time away from England.”
