The Major and the Pickpocket
The Major and the Pickpocket
Lucy Ashford
Praise for
Lucy Ashford
writing as Elizabeth Redfern:
THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES
Unputdownable[a] remarkable debuta glittering
tale of London in 1795, full of science, intrigue, war,
revolution, and obsessive passion.
Guardian
An engrossing read and a rich,
pungent evocation of the period.
The Observer
brilliantly handled to keep the reader guessing
right to the end.
Charles Palliser
Striking and originala star is born.Literary Review
Quite wonderfulIt is Redferns ability to
bring each scene, each character alive
that makes this such toothsome reading.
USA TODAY
AURIEL RISING
Intelligent.The New York Times
Richly atmosphericRedferns strength
is in recreating a morally corrupt world
Publishers Weekly
You do have qualities in which I am interested, Marcus said.
There is a man in London on whom I wish, very badly, to be revenged. He has several weaknesses, and I intend to attack accordingly. Firstly he is a gambler, who cannot resist a challenge when the stakes are high. And secondly he has a marked liking for pretty women who are skilled at card play.
So Im ruled out for certain, surely, if you are looking for someone pretty? Since you make it quite clear that I am nothing of the kind!
She saw a half-smile flicker across his strong moutha dangerous, all-male smile. Those werent my precise words, minx, he said softly. I think, in fact, that you could be very, very pretty.
Tassie felt the colour rising in her cheeks. You jest with me.
I assure you, this is not jest. No, indeed. His voice, his expression told her he was in deadly earnest. To put it briefly, Tassie, you and I could help each other out quite considerably.
Lucy Ashford, an English Studies lecturer, has always loved literature and history, and from childhood one of her favourite occupations has been to immerse herself in historical romances. She studied English with history at Nottingham University, and the Regency is her favourite period.
Lucy has written several historical novels, but this is her first for Mills & Boon. She lives with her husband in an old stone cottage in the Peak District, near to beautiful Chatsworth House and Haddon Hall, all of which give her a taste of the magic of life in a bygone age. Her garden enjoys spectacular views over the Derbyshire hills, where she loves to roam and let her imagination go to work on her latest story.
This is Lucy Ashfords debut novel for Mills & Boon Historical Romance.
AUTHOR NOTE
Ive always adored historical romances. I grew up daydreaming about King Arthurs knights, Rosemary Sutcliffs Roman heroes, the Scarlet Pimpernel and, of course, Georgette Heyers Regency rakes.
So you can imagine that, although Id had some success writing historical thrillers, I was really longing to create a romance set in a bygone age. And who else to approach but Mills & Boon?
After a lot of fun dreaming up my plot and characters, and with a great deal of help from skilled and sympathetic editors, I finally became a Mills & Boon author with THE MAJOR AND THE PICKPOCKET. The story is set in 1780, at a time when gambling fever was really starting to take the nation in its grip. Great lords and ladies would lose and win mighty fortunes in all-night sittings. My feisty heroine, Tassie, is as skilled as any of them at tricking her way out of trouble at the turn of a cardthat is, until the wounded war hero Major Marcus Forrester calls her bluff!
So here it ismy first Mills & Boon Historical Romance. I do hope you enjoy the story of how the Major and the mischievous pickpocket Tassie discover true love together.
The Major and the Pickpocket
Lucy Ashford
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u770df9dc-48d9-54fa-8f2c-e286461bd240)
Praise (#u8b55c30b-bd7a-51c7-a6f6-e0fcddd81b96)
Excerpt (#ufe908feb-83e9-5d27-9fed-aedeb07b5b7c)
Author The Author (#ub3552f07-baf0-5445-8c7c-d0e3d7e754a6)
Author Note (#ue3c91a4b-a3e5-56b0-b7bb-f625c728d6bc)
Title Page (#ub4759ebc-38dd-523f-8b27-8c30926ec6d7)
Chapter One (#u6ecf89ab-0144-5795-b855-b69753ae00e2)
Chapter Two (#u3a85bb8d-a772-5c1e-a5e0-401c78af832c)
Chapter Three (#ucde59bd2-9ccf-50b9-b442-008ac1934d94)
Chapter Four (#u1dd6cbee-2ca2-5ade-8343-2d1e67dd5307)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
LondonFebruary 1780
Heavy rain that night meant the streets were almost deserted, and so it was even more startling for the few pedestrians in the vicinity of Pall Mall to see a big chestnut mare being pulled up in a frenzy of sparking hooves outside the porticoed entrance of one of Londons most discerning clubs. The mare had been ridden hard. Its glossy flanks were heaving, and its eyes rolled whitely in the gleam of the yellow lamplight. Swiftly the horses rider dismounted, thrusting the reins and a few coins towards a hovering groom before swinging round to face a footman who watched him uncertainly from the shelter of the imposing doorway. At this time of night, and in this sort of foul February weather, club members usually arrived by carriage or sedan, not like some whirlwind from hell on horseback.
But before the footman could issue a challenge, the dark-haired rider, his mouth set in a grim line, was already striding up the wide steps. It was noticeable now that he had a slight limp, but it didnt seem to slow him in the least. His long riding coat, glistening with rain, whirled out behind him as he crashed open the door, and his whip was still clutched in his hand. As the gust of cold air hed let in billowed through the lofty reception hall, all the candles were set a-flicker, and a number of disdainful faces turned to stare. A plump butler started busily towards the intruder, but found himself brushed aside, like a moth.
Im looking for Sebastian Corbridge, announced the man. Lord Sebastian Corbridge. His voice was calm, but the menacing gleam in his eyes was like sparks struck from flint.
He looked as if he had been riding hard all day, to judge by the mud on his boots, and the way his dark, unpowdered hair fell in disordered waves to his collar. He was not old, perhaps no more than twenty-five or twenty-six, but the taut lines of fatigue that ran from his nose to his strong jaw made him look older. The butler backed away warily, because he could see that this tall stranger with the limp wore a sword beneath his loose riding coat. And unlike most of the primped, scented men of leisure who frequented this club, he looked as if he would know how to use it.
By now the mans abrupt intrusion had registered even in the furthest recesses of the reception hall. Murmured conversations died away; startled faces, adorned in many cases with powder and patches, turned one after the other towards the doorway. Even the sombre portraits hanging from the oak-panelled walls seemed to gaze disapprovingly at the abrasive stranger whose clothing continued to drip water on the fine parquet floor, creating little puddles around his leather riding boots.
Lord Sebastian Corbridge. I want him, the intruder repeated softly, his hand flicking his whip against his booted leg in unspoken warning.
Someone rose languidly from a deep leather chair in a shadowed alcove. He was about the same age as the intruder, but his appearance could not have been more different, for his elegantly curled cadogan wig was immaculately powdered; his blue satin frock coat, with its discreet ruffles of lace at cuff and throat, was quite exquisitely fitted to his slender body. And his haughty, finely bred face expressed utter scorn as he gazed at the man who spoke his name.
So, Marcus, he drawled, taking a lazy pinch of snuff from a filigree box. Youre back. As usual, dear fellow, you seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The army hasnt done much for your manners, has it? Members only allowed in here, Im afraid
Sebastian Corbridge broke off, as the dark-haired man threw his whip aside, then covered the ground between them to grasp his blue satin lapels with both hands. My God, Corbridge, the man grated out, but youve got some explaining to do. Let me tell you that Ive just returned from Lornings, and I didnt like what I found there. Youd better start talking. Youd better think up some excuses, and quickly.
Corbridge looked down with pointed disdain at the hands that gripped his exquisite lapels. So youve ridden all the way from Gloucestershire, he sneered, the slight tremor of fear disguised by heavy scorn. Dear me. And there was I thinking you might have come straight from some modish salonafter all, I suppose its just about possible that clothing such as yours is permitted at fashionable gatherings now that there are so many unemployed ex-army officers around town
The taller mans powerful shoulder muscles bunched dangerously beneath his greatcoat, and Corbridge was lifted from the ground.
Do put me down, Marcus! breathed Lord Sebastian Corbridge. You smell of horse, man. Wet horses. All in all, youre rather overdoing itbetraying your origins, you know?
All around the room their audience watched the scene in breath-holding fascination. A young footman, whod just come through from the inner salon bearing a brandy decanter on a silver tray, froze into immobility at the sight, his mouth agape, and the candlelight danced on the golden-amber liquid as it shivered behind the cut glass. Slowly, the dark-haired man called Marcus let go of his victim. His steel-grey eyes were still burning with intensity, and the skin around his grim mouth was white. He drew a ragged breath. At least, cousin Sebastian, I dont stink of trickery and theft.
Nearby an older man whose face was red with indignation jumped to his feet. Enough, man, he rasped at the intruder. Guard your tongue, or well have you thrown out bodily!
Corbridge shook his head quickly, smoothing down his satin lapels. No need for that, eh, Marcus? Firstly, Id like to hear you explain yourself. And, secondly, Id much, much rather you didnt address me as cousin.
Id rather not have to address you as anything, said Marcus. He was more in control of himself now. But the fact remains that we are, unfortunately, related. And you ask me to explain myself; but first Ill ask you this. How do you justify the fact that youve managed to rob my elderly godfather of everything: every acre of land, every penny of savings, and above all the home he loves so dearly?
Lord Corbridge arched his pale eyebrows, just a little. Facts, dear Marcus, let us look at the facts! Though facts, I remember, were never your strong point. Always emotional, werent you? Must be your unstable heritage showing through.
Marcuss face darkened and his fists clenched dangerously at his sides. Corbridge, after taking a hasty step back from him, went on hurriedly, Ive robbed Sir Roderick Delancey of absolutely nothing, I assure you! In fact, I tried to help him, tried to dissuade him from plunging into yet greater debtsGambling is such a sad sickness, especially at his age. He shrugged, an expression of concern creasing his smooth features. But in spite of my every endeavour, Marcus, the foolish Sir Roderick continued to plunge yet deeper into the mire. I extricated him from the likelihood of a debtors prison at vast personal expense. In return, he agreed to offer me as security the great hall at Lornings and the land that goes with it.
If he loses Lornings, hell be a penniless bankrupt!
Wrong again, Marcus. Corbridge gave a thin-lipped smile, drawing confidence from those whod gathered around him. Your godfather will always have a roof over his headthe Dower House, to be preciseand some income from the home farm. Though its more than the pitiful old fool deserves. Gambling is a quite fatal disease, I fear.
And one that he was never infected with, until you decided to poison him!
Corbridge shook his head. Youve been away for two years, Marcus. Whats the matter? Didnt find fame and fortune soldiering in the Americas? Managed to get yourself a lame leg instead? Hoped to come back and live off weak-witted old Sir Rodericks fat purseonly to find the purse no longer so fat? What a shame. He turned with mock concern to his rapt audience. Something should be done about our returned war heroes. They should be awarded a better pension, perhaps. We heard about your promotion, Marcuspity it wasnt with a decent regiment, though. Perhaps the beautiful Miss Philippa Fawcett would have revived her interest in you if youd had a little more to offer her on your return.
The other mans eyes blazed. You know damn well why I didnt get in with a fancier regiment, Corbridge. It was because I didnt care to go around oiling palms with false compliments and fistfuls of money that would have kept some of our badly paid foot soldiers in luxury for the rest of their lives.
How noble, breathed Lord Sebastian Corbridge. How infinitely noble of you, Marcus. Of course, your particular family circumstances dont exactly endear you to your superiors, do they?
Someone in the audience laughed jeeringly. Have the man thrown out, Corbridge. Unstable streak in the whole family, if you ask me. Isnt he the fellow whose mother went mad? Mad as a hatter, they say. She actually ran off with one of his fathers grooms
Marcus turned. In the blinking of an eye, so fast that no one there had time to register it, he had whipped out his sword and held it so that its point just nicked the lace ruffles at the throat of the man who had spoken. The mans eyes were suddenly round with fear; his plump face had gone as white as a sheet. After a seconds paralysing silence, Marcus let his sword fall. He turned back to Sebastian, slamming the long blade back into its sheath.
This quarrel is becoming too public for my liking, he said flatly. I dont care to discuss my private affairs, or my family, in front of specimens like these. Let us arrange a duel.
The flash of fear that crossed Lord Sebastians face was quickly concealed. A duel? With an injured man? he queried, looking pointedly at Marcuss leg. My dear cousin, what must you think of me?
Marcus lifted his dark, expressive eyebrows. Do you really want me to explain exactly what I think of you? In words of one syllable, so everyone here understands?
But Lord Sebastian Corbridge did not reply. Instead he was looking furtively over Marcuss shoulder; and Marcus, seeing that look, swung round, his sword once more at the ready, to face several burly-looking footmen who were advancing rapidly towards him with their fists clenched.
Then, suddenly, another figure moved swiftly out from the shadows, knocking Marcuss weapon aside with a deft blow of his arm. A voicecheerful, almost laughingcalled out, Now, Marcus! Time for the disengage, dear boy! Live to fight another day, eh?
And Marcus found himself being hustled, almost pushed, towards the big outer doors, which were kicked open with a crash by his companion as he hurried Marcus down the wide steps into the chilly street.
Once on the pavement Major Marcus Forrester shook himself free and reluctantly sheathed his sword. Hal, he said with a sigh. Youre a good friend, but you should have let me hit him, at least.
Hal Beauchamp, whose compact, expensively dressed frame nevertheless hid considerable physical expertise, relaxed into a smile and handed Marcus the riding whip hed tossed aside earlier. What, and give those beefy minions who were creeping up behind you the chance to beat you black and blue? he objected. Not the best of ideas, Marcus! A strategic retreat is definitely in order, I think, before those painted fops in there combine their scanty brain power and come after us!
Marcus grinned back at his friend. A pursuit? And you reputedly the best swordsman in the regiment? Hardly likely, I think, Hal.
No. Hardly likely. Hal held out his hand warmly for the other to shake. Good to see you back in London, Marcus. Really good. Now, I assume from your attire that you arrived here on horseback?
A hired horse, yesI paid a groom to see to it.
Very well, then, dear fellow; so now I insist you come and share a bottle of claret with me, somewhere more congenial than that hole, and tell me Hals brown eyes gleamed absolutely everything.
Inside the hallowed portals of the club, Lord Sebastian Corbridge, smoothing down his satin frock-coat like a bird preening its badly ruffled feathers, returned to his table and affected nonchalant disdain. But his hands were still trembling, and he was aware that his acquaintances had rather enjoyed the spectacle they had just witnessed. Corbridge was not a popular man in London.
Is he really your cousin, Corbridge? grinned the portly Viscount Lindsay, generally known as Piggy. You kept quiet about that side of the family, dear boy.
Lord Corbridge paled slightly beneath his fashionably applied powder and patches. I have numerous distant cousins, he replied disdainfully. My great-grandfather, you will recall, was the Earl of Stansfield
Oh, we remember all right, replied Viscount Lindsay, sharing a covert sneer with the others seated at their table. You remind us of it nightly, dear fellow.
The Earl, continued Corbridge stiffly, had a variety of offspring. Major Marcus Forrester, whose mother was the only child of the Earls disreputable youngest son, is one of the least significant of them all.
Fellow didnt look insignificant to me, drawled Viscount Lindsay, raising his eyebrows. Fellow looked damned frightening to me, Corbridge, when he had you dangling there like a gasping fish.
The others joined in the laughter, and Corbridge paled again. The armys all hes fit for, he muttered in a low, angry voice. Theres bad blood on that side of the family. He was scarcely out of infancy when his mother fled to Europe with her lover, some lowly serving man. Since then, Marcus Forrester has shown a dangerous instability. I never thought to see him return alive from the war in America.
No, put in Viscount Lindsay rather maliciously. I bet you didnt, Corbridge. Seems as if young Marcus has found out, too, exactly what youve been up to while hes been away with his precious old godfather and that rather splendid estate at Lornings. All in all, its rather damned bad luck for you that hes returned at all, isnt it? Alive and well and primed for action, it seems.
Lord Sebastian Corbridge was silent. But his slender white hand, which glittered with jewelled rings, twisted in some agitation around the stem of his glass.
Outside the sepia clouds still surged menacingly overhead, and the pavements glinted with puddles in the yellow light of the street lamps as Hal and Marcus proceeded on foot towards the Strand. But at least the rain had ceased; and the citizens of London were heading out again for the gaming clubs of St Jamess, or the colourful taverns and theatres beyond Leicester Fields. Hal Beauchampas fair as Marcus was dark, with a slighter build, and an open, sunny countenancewas cheerfully extolling the merits of the dining parlour at the Bulls Head. Theyll set us up with some excellent victuals, Marcus! he promised. The clarets first rate as well, I assure you. And then we could go on somewhere for a decent game of hazard
No! No gaming. Marcuss vivid, handsome face, which had relaxed in the company of his friend, was suddenly serious once more. I dont think Ill ever cast the dice again, Hal.
Hal Beauchamp pulled a droll expression. He was dressed as usual in the most expensive, if discreet of styles; his long greatcoat that swept almost to the ground was exquisitely tailored, and his beaver hat and shining top-boots bore evidence of the tender care of a skilful valet. Oh dear, oh dear me, he sighed. Its the end of the world indeed if Major Marcus Forrester renounces the fine art. What would your devoted soldiers say? Remember the game of hazard we had in camp, just before the raid on Wilmington last year? The enemy were all around, and you were saying, One more throw, gentlemen. Just one more throw. I feel that my luck is in
Marcus laughed, but his eyes were bleak. It hasnt been in lately, Hal.
No. His friends expression softened. I heard about your injury, at the siege of Savannah. Do you have somewhere to stay in London?
Marcus shook his head. Not yet. The army pensions office offered me some tedious post in recruitment with lodgings all in, but I refused. And I havent started looking for anywhere else yet. I just wanted to find Corbridge.
And kill him? So I must assume you were planning on sleeping in Newgate gaol tonight, said Hal lightly as they jostled their way through the crowds that thronged Haymarket. I have a better suggestion. Come and stay with Caroline and me, in Portman Square. Far more comfortable than Newgate, I assure you.
Marcus struggled, then smiled. It was very difficult not to smile when Hal was around. Theyd been at Oxford together, then the army; theyd shared good times and bad. But now they were both out of the war; Hal because his only sister, who had been recently widowed, needed him at home; and Marcus because of a rebels musketball through his thigh.
You are more than kind, said Marcus, turning to face his friend. But your sisterI would be imposing, surely?
Not at all, dear fellow. She always had a soft spot for you. And your injured leg will give her something to fuss over. Hal hesitated. I heard, you know, about your godfather Sir Roderick and the business with Corbridge. It must have come as a blow to you. The loss of your inheritance, the decline in your prospects
Marcus said quietly, The worst of it, Hal, was seeing what it has done to my godfather. This business has all but finished him off.
Hal nodded, frowning in sympathy. Then stay with us, while you see what can be done.
I have no wish whatsoever to be in anyones debt.
My dear fellow, responded Hal swiftly, lets have no talk of debt. Consider our house your home for as long as you wish.
And to ensure there could be no further argument, Hal resumed his steady pace along the Strand, where the candlelit shop windows with their displays of millinery and trinkets glittered enticingly. Carriages clattered by, and sedan-bearers pushed through the crowds, their polite calls of By your leave, sir! swiftly changing to their usual ripe curses if people failed to move out of their way. Marcus hurried to keep up with his friends loping, athletic stride, knowing he shouldnt have ridden so damned hard for the best part of two daysbut what else could he have done other than resolve to take action, any kind of action, once hed seen the state his gentle, kindly godfather was in?
Sir Roderick Delancey had been a friend and neighbour for as long as Marcus could remember to the Forrester family on their rather ramshackle Gloucestershire estate, and when Marcuss mother had run off, amidst such disgrace that her husband, a broken and impoverished man, died soon after, Roderick took responsibility for his godson Marcus without hesitation. Not possessing any children himself, Sir Roderick had paid for Marcuss schooling; and in the vacations Marcus spent long weeks at his godfathers beautiful country mansion, which he came to regard as his home, his own home having to be sold to cover his fathers debts.
After Oxford, when Marcus set his heart on joining the army, Sir Roderick had offered to buy him a commission in one of the top cavalry units; but Marcus, who had his own kind of pride, refused, and became a captain in a line regiment. He was swiftly promoted, and when his regiment was sent to America to fight under Cornwallis, Sir Roderick continued to write regularly to his godsonbut last autumn the letters had stopped.
And now Marcus knew why.
Some day, Marcus had resolved, he would return to active service. But not yet. He had another battle to fight first, on Sir Roderick Delanceys behalf.
At the corner of Half Moon Alley, a crowd had gathered around a couple of street entertainers who, using a stretch of low wall as their table, were tempting passers-by to bet on which of three upturned cups covered a coin. The first of the pair, a ragged-looking man with a wooden leg, was dextrously switching the cups to allow onlookers tantalising glimpses of the bright coin, while his accomplice, a slim youth wearing a long coat and a cap rather too big for him, was strolling around and drumming up trade in a light, cheerful voice. Roll up, roll up, ladies and gennelmen! Put your penny down, guess which cup hides the sixpenceits easy, see?and win it for yourself! Yes, win a whole, shiny sixpence! Roll up, roll up
Then the lively youth broke off, because his sharp eyes had observed what Marcus now sawa fat member of the Watch huffing and panting towards the pair with his stick raised, and two of his companions coming up behind. Haul them two coves in! the watchman roared. Theyre thieves and scoundrels, the pair of em! The man with the peg-leg had his coin and his little cups thrust deep in his pockets in no time; tucking his wooden limb under his arm, he raced away on two exceedingly sound legs, while, doubtless by prior arrangement, his young companion took off in the opposite direction towards Hal and Marcus, twisting and turning nimbly through the crowds that thronged the pavement. Marcus watched, interested and impressed, as the lad, though caught briefly by the wrist by one of the Charleys, kicked his way free and ran on boldly, his ragged coat flying and his cap crammed low over his head. As he drew nearer, Marcus glimpsed emerald green eyes glinting above an uptilted nose, and a merry mouth curled in scornuntil the lad realised some more watchmen were hurrying up from the other end of the street, thus cutting off his escape.
Now, Marcus Forrester could never understand why a pair like thisup to no real harm, as far as he could seeshould arouse the full ire of the law, when murder and mayhem went on without interruption in some of the hellish back streets where the Watch were afraid to even set foot. Lets even the odds, he murmured to Hal. And just as the lad was hesitating, no escape in sight, Marcus reached out, grabbed him by the armLet go of me, you dratted coneyjack! was his only thanksand thrust the slim fugitive, whose head barely came up to his shoulder, behind his back into a dark doorway. More colourful protests came flowing in abundance from that clear, expressive voice; but Marcus ordered through gritted teeth, Im trying to help, you young fool. Stay there. And shut up. Hal, brown eyes a-twinkling, completed their bodily barricade of the lads hiding place; then the pair of them, arms folded, pretended to look on as if faintly bored, while the breathless old watchmenthe Charleyselbowed their way through the swirling London crowd, up and down the street, looking in vain for their quarry. Wheres that there lad? one of them bellowed. Old Peg-legs helper? Up to no good, im and all his kind, should be anged the lot of themwhich way did e go?
Marcus cast a swift glance back into the doorway, where the youth, having decided rather sensibly to cooperate, was now crouching silently behind him and Hal. Marcus saw again, with a kind of startlement, that pair of wide, incredibly green eyes taking everything in; and just at that moment the young fugitive, sensing his gaze, looked up at him andgrinned.
No fear. No fear at all, in that smooth young faceMarcus frowned, then quickly switched his attention back to the watchmen, who were shaking their heads, swearing volubly and stamping off down the Strand. Marcus looked back into the doorway and nodded. All clear now. Off you go. The lad, emerging blithely from behind the long folds of Marcuss riding coat, whispered, My thanks, and quickly vanished into the crowds.
Hal lifted one querying, humorous eyebrow at his friend. Still on the side of the underdog, I see?
Most definitely, declared Marcus. Why the hue and cry? They were only a couple of street entertainers. But even as he dismissed them both, he was aware that the younger one had puzzled him considerably. My thanks That voice, if you ignored the insults, had been expressive and clear. No hint of low-life in those parting words. He shook his head, swiftly banishing that bright, green-eyed gaze from his mind. On to business, Hal. Where are we heading after weve eaten?
I thought wed go to a new place in Suffolk Street, called the Angel, explained Hal. Its discreet, private, and has some of the best gaming in town. Oh, yes. I know he raised a finger to silence Marcuss protests youre never going to gamble again. But let me just say this. You want to get your revenge on the loathsome Corbridge, for ruining your godfather. Am I right?
You are, replied Marcus, his mood grim once more.
Then remember your army training, dear boy. Go to the kind of haunts your enemy would frequent. Probe his weaknesses. And Corbridges are?
Youve got all night to listen? Well, apart from his general obnoxiousness, his weaknesses, from what I remember, are spending and gambling. And beautiful women, with rather doubtful reputations
Especially young fillies with an eye for the gaming table, broke in Hal. Lady Franklin, Cecilia Connolly, and that ravishing blonde known as La Fanciola from the Opera Housethey are all exquisitely golden-haired, all greedy for money by fair means or foul, and hes dallied with them all! So listen, its quite simple. What you must do is find another of the same kindyoung, accomplished, preferably with guinea-gold curlspersuade her to entice him to the card tables at some private establishmentand use her to get back all your godfathers money off Corbridge!
Marcus laughed, shaking his head. Thats meant to be simple? Ive got a better idea. Why dont I just run him through? It would be a damn sight easier. His hand moved instinctively to his pocket, to check that he had enough money for the night ahead. And then he went very still. My wallet, he breathed. Its gone.
Hals eyes widened. Are you sure? You might have left it somewhere, or dropped it in the street, perhaps
Oh, no. Marcus knew he hadnt dropped it. Suddenly he remembered the young fugitive with the mocking green eyes. He remembered, too late, the light hand that he felt brushing his coat as the lad departed. He turned to Hal and said flatly, If youre still set on a game tonight, youll have to lend me the stake. Until I get to my bankers in the morning, Ive not a penny to my name. That young wretch we helped back there has repaid me by picking my pocket. And, Marcus vowed, if he ever caught the lad, he would give his backside a beating hed never forget
Hal frowned. The ungrateful rogue! Well, of course Ill lend you something, Marcus. Who knows? Tonight at the Angel your luck might change for the better!
I certainly hope so, replied Marcus with feeling. But his bleak eyes did not echo that smile. And Hal, who had been intending to ask Marcus if he had seen Philippa yet, decided that perhaps now was not the best time to broach that rather tricky subject.
Chapter Two
The street trickster whom Marcus was cursing so roundly was meanwhile twisting and turning knowingly through the assortment of narrow alleyways behind Maiden Lane before finally sidling into the shadows of an empty doorway and listening hard.
Nothing. No pursuers. No Charleys. With a sigh of relief the young thief sauntered off northwards whistling The Bold Ploughboy, cap pulled down low over forehead, hands thrust deep into shabby greatcoat; because, although it had stopped raining, the February night was still damp and cold. One hand encountered a leather wallet, and those bright green eyes were troubled, just for a moment, at the memory of its owner; then the youngster strolled onwards. Doubtless the dark-haired swell was rich enough not to miss it over-much.
Carefully avoiding the clusters of hard-drinking men who gathered around Bob Derrys Cider Cellar, the pickpocket, now munching on an apple filched earlier from a fruit stall, chose a secret way through the warren of courtyards that lay behind Drury Lane; then at last came to a halt, gazing up to where a flickering lantern illuminated a faded inn sign. This was the Blue Bell tavern: a pretty name for a low-life inn run by a steel-tongued landlady called Moll. Frowning briefly at the thought of Moll, the youth straightened his shabby coat and marched through the crowded, smoky taproom to push open a small side door into a private parlour, occupied only by a group of men clustered intently round a card game. The sudden draught from the door made the tallow candles flicker. Three of the players leapt to their feet, their hands clutching their cards. Then the fourth one, a gangly young fellow with rather startling tufts of red hair, grinned broadly. No cause for alarm, lads! Its just our Tassie, bin up to her usual tricks, no doubt.
The men sat down again. Tassie closed the door with a deft kick, pulled off her cap and threw it defiantly on the table as her long golden hair tumbled around her shoulders. What do you mean, tis only me? she challenged. Havent you missed me, all of you? No reply. Sighing a little, she let her keen eyes rove over the well-worn cards splayed out on the table. Fie, Georgie Jay, if tis whist youre playing, then I hope you remembered to keep the guard on your pictures, as I told you last night!
Then the girl sat among the men, quite at ease, as the sturdily built, black-haired man in his thirties whom shed addressed as Georgie Jay, looked frowning at his cards. Gods blood, but youre right, Tassie, he said.
Course shes right, said the red-haired lad, still gazing admiringly at the newcomer. Theres no one to beat our Tassie at cards.
Or dice, grinned Georgie Jay. He patted the girls shoulder and turned back to the game.
The girl let her fair brow pucker a little. Werent youworried about me, Georgie?
Why, lass? Should we have been?
She shrugged. Not really. I helped the cups-and-sixpence man up on the Strand.
Old Peg-leg? Did you make much?
Didnt get the chance. We were chased off by the Charleys.
Good job you can run fast, then.
Indeed. Tassie stretched out her legs in their over-large boots and leaned back in her chair, her hands in her pockets, secretly a little upset that they werent more troubled by her encounter with the Watch. She decided to say nothing about the dark-haired man and his wallet, though at one time shed have told Georgie Jay everything, for he was the undisputed leader of this motley crew of travellers, and had been like a father to her ever since hed found her eight years ago, alone on a country lane. We work when we can, hed told her, and when we cantfor times are hard for poor folks like uswhy, then, we take a little from those who have enough and to spare! Yes, Georgie Jay had been her saviour and protector, and she would always be grateful to him. But things had changed. Oh, how they had changed.
Moll, the buxom landlady, had just come into the room to see what was going on, Then she spotted Tassie, and scowled. Our Tassies had a run-in with the Watch, Moll! Georgie Jay told her.
Lords sake, said Moll, what a fuss you all do make of that girl. Taint natural, a grown lass like her trailing round with you all.
Tassie met Molls glare with stony dislike, and began to get to her feet, but Georgie reached out to forestall her. Tassies one of us, Moll. Bring the girl some food, will you? You know shell be ready for her supper.
Tassie was; but she fought down the hunger pangs gnawing at her ribs. My thanks, but Im not hungry. Most certainly not for anything Moll dished out.
She picked up her cap, ready to leave; but just at that moment Georgie Jay exclaimed, Tassie! Now, what in the name of wonder is that? He was pointing at the ugly bruising on her wrist, where the Watch man had grabbed her.
Its nothing. Nothing at all. She stepped quickly back, shaking down her sleeve.
So you were in danger! Look, Tass, perhaps it really is time you stopped all your trickery out on the streets
Oh, fiddlesticks, Georgie, she said airily, you all have close shaves with the Watch every now and then, dont you? Tonight was no different!
But Georgie Jay was sighing as he gazed at Tassies defiant face beneath her tumbling curls that glowed a fierce gold in the flickering candlelight. Youre a lass, Tassie, he said regretfully. Its as simple as that. Things just cant go on the same. Why, youre nigh as tall as young Lem! How old are you nowfifteen, sixteen?
Tassie shrugged her shoulders, guessing now was not the best of times to tell him she was seventeen. How should I know how old I am? Do you really think anyone used to celebrate my birthday? No, indeed. Painful memories flashed through her mind. The big old house where shed spent her early childhood. The long days spent locked in her room, learning her letters or struggling over hateful stitching with frozen fingers. The endless fear of punishment. Shed run because she felt that nothing, anywhere, could be worse.
She realised now that shed been more than lucky to be found by good-hearted Georgie Jay, who still lived by the honourable code of the travelling folk, and insisted that his followers did the same. Hed stoutly declared that Tassie had a place with them for ever; but even he, it seemed, was now having his doubts. And so, perhaps, was she.
All the same, he was saying now, we need to have a talk, lass.
Tassie gazed at him steadily. Are you trying to tell me that you dont want me with you any more?
Georgie Jay looked unhappy. Weve been doin a bit of thinkin and Molls got a grand idea that might suit you just fine!
Tassies eyes flashed warningly as she looked at the older woman. Oh, has she now?
Molls got a brother, Georgie pressed on. He and his wife, theyve got a small farmKent way, isnt it, Moll?and they could do with some help around the place
Tassie turned on Moll incredulously. You think that Id go as a servant to your brother? The one you were going on about the other night, saying he was a miserable skinflint and a tyrant?
Moll coloured and looked angry. Theres a good opportunity for you there, young madam, and dont you scoff at it!
Ill scoff at it all right, Tassie breathed. Youd better think again, Moll, if you want to find your brother aa cheap skivvy. And, holding her head high, she marched to the door that led to the stairs, and closed it with a resounding bang behind her.
Once in the inner hallway, though, Tassie stopped, fighting to control the emotions that were now shaking her body. Despite her words of bold defiance, there was a huge lump in her throat, and her heart ached sorely. Shed known for some time that things couldnt go on as they were. But if Georgie Jay and his comrades didnt want her, she had no one. No one.
She heard them all getting up. One by one the othersLemuel, Billy, and kind old Matt who played the fiddle at country fairs, whod all been her friends for yearstraipsed out through the other door to the taproom to have their meal, until only Moll and Georgie were left in there. Tassie bit her lip. Moll and Georgie. Usually Georgie Jay and his friends kept pretty much on the move, taking rooms at various inns or lodging houses depending on the work they found. But this winter theyd spent all of the last two months at the Blue Bellbecause Georgie Jay had taken to sharing landlady Molls room, and Molls bed. And now Tassie could tell by the sound of clacking little heels on the flagstones that Moll had moved towards the jar of gin that she kept for herself on a high shelf near the door. Georgie Jay must have followed her; he was saying, in a low voice so that Tassie could only just hear, I did warn you she wouldnt like the idea, Moll.
Such a fuss about a silly girl, Moll snapped back. Tassie heard the rattle of gin jar against beaker; and could just picture Moll drinking it down in one greedy swallow. All right, then. Ill not interfere! But youll have to think of somethin for her, Georgie Jay. Sakes alive, you must have seen the way men are starting to look at her! Lemuel worships the ground she walks on, and that big simpleton Billy watches her all the time. Shes becomin a real pretty piece, and therell be trouble soon if you dont look out
Tassie could stand to hear no more. Horrified to find that her eyes were smarting with tears, she almost ran up the rickety staircase to her tiny attic room, where she was greeted by the loud squawking of a brightly coloured parrot gazing at her from its perch by the window. Georgie Jay had bought Edward for her seven years ago in Dorchester market, and now she angrily dashed away her tears with the back of her hand and stroked the birds beautifully-crested head, whispering, How can Georgie Jay be so taken in by thatthat strumpet, Edward? Molls fat, and she paints her face, and she pickles herself in gin!
Edward cocked his beady eye at her. Whos a pretty girl, then? Tassie almost smiled. But she couldnt ignore the fact that what Moll had said was right. Tassie couldnt go on pretending to be what she was not for much longer. If only I were a boy! she went on in anguish, jumping up to pace the little room while at the same time trying to resist the temptation to chew her fingernails, something she always did when she was distressed. Edward just put his head on one side, his bright eyes blinking, and crunched steadily on the remains of a crust. Tassie drew a deep breath, then flung her big coat on the bed.
Soon after she had joined Georgie Jays band, shed taken to dressing like a lad because it was easier, and when her breasts had started to swell shed worn loose shirts buttoned to the neck and hoped no one would notice. When her monthly courses began, a kindly serving girl at the farm where they were working came to her rescue and gave her some strips of linen to use, and into the bargain gave her an earthy lecture on how men were fiery creatures, and likely to be aroused beyond reason by the presence of a young, pretty maid. So Tassie tied up her bright golden hair with a piece of twine and pushed it under a cap; as she grew she continued to dress in loose breeches and boots and a rough cambric jacket several sizes too big for her that concealed her swelling curves; and season after season she tramped the dusty roads in the cheery company of Georgie Jay and his band, never complaining of weariness, always hoping that things would remain the same, because in truth she had no other life to turn to.
But she knew, in her heart of hearts, that things were changing fast. Moll had spotted the trouble with Billy already.
Billy was big and strong, but he was simple-minded. His family had been turned out of their cottage when the local landowner wanted to pull it down to make more space for sheep, and Billy had attached himself to the company like a faithful dog, invaluable if there was any kind of hard physical work. Tassie had always felt quite safe with him, as she did with all the others in their little band. But a couple of weeks ago, a little after midnight, Billy had knocked at the door of Tassies bedroom. Tass, he called out. Let me in, will you? I want ter tell you somethin.
Shed opened the door, and instantly smelled that hed been drinking. Big Billy, with his thatch of wiry black hair, had always been a little over-fond of his ale. So she told him that she would talk to him in the morning; but hed muttered something and a strange, hot look had spread across his face as he gazed at Tassie, with her hair loose past her shoulders, and dressed only in her thin cotton nightshirt.
Hed tried to kiss her then, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her close. Tassie struggled desperately to push him away, but Billy wrapped one arm around her waist, trapping her, while with the other hand he began to fumble at her breasts. She could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against his breeches while his hot lips smothered her mouth; and Tassie, gasping, twisted violently and used her knee, very hard, in the place where she knew it would hurt him the most. Billy had whimpered with shock and gone limping off to his room. Tassie hoped fervently that the hateful episode had vanished into the shadows of Billys slow mind; certainly hed not troubled her again in that way, and she didnt think he would. But it had been an unpleasant reminder that Molls warnings were only too true.
And now, they thought they could just pack her off to Molls brother in the country! Oh, never. Suddenly she remembered the wallet shed stolen from the gent in Half Moon Alley. Pulling herself up on the dingy little bed, she sat cross-legged in her boots and buckskin breeches and her mans shirt, and tossed back her long blonde curls from her face. Then she eased the slim leather wallet from her hip pocket; but her heart sank again, for there wasnt much in it. A few coins, amounting to little more than two guineas, and a pencilled note, folded up. The coins she put carefully into a little locked box hidden beneath her bed; the note she casually unfolded, preparing to crumple it and toss it aside. But then her eyes opened wide as a curling lock of chestnut hair tied up in a pretty blue ribbon fell on to the bed. Tassie read the note avidly. For my darling Marcus. A little memento. All my love for ever, Philippa.
Well! So her noble rescuerMarcuswas in love! Tassie instantly held it closer. Philippas handwriting was dainty, with lots of curly flourishes, quite the opposite of Tassies bold, clear hand; Tassie would be prepared to wager that Philippa didnt chew her nails as she did, or fuzz the cards at whist, or swear like a trooper when the occasion arose. A prim parlour-miss indeed; the writing was a little faded, but the sheet was still scented with the remnants of some exotic and no doubt expensive floral perfume, which made both Tassie and Edward sneeze. Tassie went over to the window, preparing to hurl the lock of hair and the note out into the darkness. All my love for ever.
Just for a moment, she paused. Just for a moment she wondered what it must be like, to love a man like that; to be loved, in return. Then she pushed the window open and tossed out the lock of chestnut hair and the note into the courtyard, to join the heaps of stinking rubbish down there. Fancy carrying that around with him, Edward. She shook her head. Darling Marcus. A little memento
Edward squawked appreciatively and repeated, Darling Marcus! Darling Marcus! Tassie hesitated again; then she pressed her lips together and hurled the wallet through the window as well.
The noise of singing and laughter came up from the tavern below. She went to put more coals on the slumbering fire, and caught sight of her face in the cracked mirror over the hearth. A pale, haunted face, with shadowed green eyes, and clouds of golden curls tumbling to her shoulders. Tassie, the street thief. Tassie the trickster. Who was she really? Why was she all alone, forced to run long ago from a place of hateful cruelty?
She went slowly to count up the coins in her money box, and the old memories came crowding in. The great old house, miles from anywhere. Well-bred, hateful voices, snarling over her: This brats trouble, William, I tell you! Nothing but trouble, and some day shes going to find out the truth
Thoughtfully, Tassie put her money box away and picked up her much-worn pack of cards from beside Edwards perch. Outside she heard the nightwatchman call the hour, Ten oclock and alls well..
No. No. All was most decidedly not well. Sitting cross-legged on her little bed, she began by the light of the flickering candle to practise one of the tricks shed persuaded old Peg-leg to teach her in return for her help today. The time had come, as shed always known it would, for her to make her own plansbefore somebody else tried to make them for her.
She might, perhaps, have felt even more trepidation had she realised just how ardently Major Marcus Forrester was thinking thoughts of revenge against the ungrateful wretch whod removed his wallet. He and Hal were at that moment dining at a fashionable chop-house just off the Piazza, where Hal, guessing that his friends forlorn financial prospects must be lowering his spirits, talked to him encouragingly of the money that could be made by investing in cotton and shipping. Marcus listened, pretending to take an interest. Then Hal, taking the plunge, started to tell Marcus that his sister Caroline had recently met Miss Philippa Fawcett out walking in the park, and that she was looking unusually lovely, and was there any chance of Marcus calling on her; at which Marcus shook his head swiftly and ordered, Talk of something else, Hal. Anything else.
And as Hal recounted inconsequential gossip, Marcuss thoughts drifted far away to Lornings, the beautiful estate in the Gloucestershire countryside that belonged to his godfather, Sir Roderick Delancey. The place Marcus had always thought of as his home. As soon as Marcus, freshly returned to London just over a week ago after a storm-racked Atlantic voyage, had heard the news about Sir Roderick, hed set out to see him. Hed found him, not at the great hall itselfwhich to Marcuss dismay looked totally abandonedbut in the much smaller Dower House, which lay close by.
Its all my own fault, Sir Roderick had replied simply. He seemed to have aged terribly in the two years of Marcuss absence. Dear boy, what a homecoming for you.
Marcus had gone quickly over to his godfather and put his strong hand on his shoulder. It wasnt your fault. My cousin Corbridge is a lying, deceiving toad.
And I should have known it! But Id got so badly in debt, you see, thanks to the company Sebastian led me into; and only Sebastian seemed to know the way out of it
By taking you to one gaming house after another?
He assured me I could not help but win, Marcus! But I lost so heavily, night after night. Corbridge saved meat least I thought he didby promising he would see to my bills until September of this year. But in return and Sir Roderick sighed heavily I had to sign a letter promising him the entire Lornings estate as security.
Marcus listened, tense-faced. But surely your debts, however great they are, arent equivalent to the value of Lornings?
Sir Roderick hung his head. Believe me, theyre bad enough. If Sebastian hadnt taken on the bills, I would have had to put myself in the hands of moneylenders; and then, you know, what with the interest they demand, my debts would have doubled and trebled, until even the sale of the estate wouldnt have paid them off. I had no choice, Marcus. Im so sorry. Lornings was supposed to be yours. I shall never forgive myself!
Marcus shook his head vehemently. I dont give a fig for my inheritance. Youve given me support and encouragement all my lifewhat more could I ask? But I cant forgive Corbridge for forcing you out of your rightful home. And I swear to God Ill make him pay.
Lornings is still mine for the moment, Sir Roderick had said, with a gentleness that tore at Marcuss heart. Until the autumn, that is. ButI cannot afford to maintain the Hall now, so it seems best to live here, in the Dower House.
Marcus was silent, thinking. Then he said suddenly, This last gaming house Corbridge took you to. Where you lost everything. Was it some backstreet den?
It was disreputable, certainly. But if youre thinking of contesting the letter that I signed, then dont trouble yourself, because Corbridge had it legally drawn up and witnessed. He looked around him rather helplessly. Im comfortable here, really I am. And Ive still got some land and livestockIve always fancied trying my hand properly at farming
At your age? thought Marcus sadly. His godfather, who was sixty-three, suffered from arthritis. He had two ageing retainers, husband and wife, who had stayed loyally with him for a pittance, and a capable man called Daniels who ran the small farm. Otherwise he was on his own, with hardly any resources now that his fortune was so badly compromised.
Ill come and help you, promised Marcus. Well get the land to rights again, believe me. But first his steely eyes narrowed Ive got Corbridge to deal with.
Sir Roderick was watching him with loving but anxious eyes. Please dont do anything foolish, my dear boy! I know how impetuous you can be!
And Marcus had smiled grimly as he replied, Impetuous? Dont you worry. I shall consider every actionextremely carefully.
But so far, concluded Marcus, so far his plans had not gone well. Hed confronted Corbridge earlier tonight in the white heat of his rage, and been forced, publicly, to retreatthen hed had his wallet stolen. Not the best of starts.
Hal was calling for the bill. Marcus hated not being able to pay for himself, but Hal brushed his objections aside. If youre staying with us as you promised, then youll have plenty of opportunities to repay me when youre ready. Caro will love having you, and we might even persuade her to host one or two small gatherings; you could invite anyone you liked
Marcus interrupted. If youre thinking of Philippa again, then I must tell you I dont think Ill be inviting her anywhere. You see, she knows that my inheritance has gone.
Marcus, I dont believe
Marcus topped up their glasses. Actually, I think she knew before I did. His voice was lightly casual, but Hal saw that his friends expression was bleak. No doubt her doting parents found out and told her. I called on her just before I set off to see Sir Roderick. Oh, it was all very civilised; Philippa talked of how we both needed some time to reconsider our rash youthful commitment, and her foolish mother hovered by her side all the time, looking terrified in case I should try to change Philippas mind. I didnt, of course.
Hal frowned as he absently counted out the coins for the bill. He knew that Philippas parents, the businessman Sir John Fawcett and his wife, lived, when not in town, on a moderately prosperous estate in Gloucestershire that bordered Lornings to the south. Happily willing to overlook Marcuss slightly dubious parentage in view of his being the great-grandson of the Earl of Stansfield and his expectation of Sir Rodericks substantial estate, the ambitious father and vain, silly mother had openly encouraged the friendship that had grown up between their daughter and Marcus. Even Marcuss long absence in the American wars had not dulled everyones belief that the two of them would marry.
But Sir Rodericks catastrophic change of fortune had altered all that, and now Philippa was doing her Season in London, intent on wealthier prospects. Hal felt deeply angry for his friend, who had come back from two years of brave service to his country to be faced with calculated rejection. But of course Hal knew that Marcus didnt want his, or anybodys, sympathy.
Instead, Hal leaned forwards, and poured out the last of the wine. Time to re-plan tactics, dear boy, he said briskly. Plenty more where she came from.
Were there? Marcus had been remembering a summers day, just before he had set sail for the American war two years ago. He and Philippa had ridden out along the Gloucestershire lanes, unchaperonedPhilippa had laughingly escaped from her groomand on a grassy bank by a secluded stream Philippa had allowed Marcus to kiss her and promised him that she would wait for him for ever
Hal was still talking. Capitalise your assets, Marcus, he was pronouncing gleefully, and get your revenge on Corbridge. Remember gambling is his fatal flaw!
Revenge on Corbridge indeed. Marcus echoed Hals toast at last, and knocked back the last of the claret. Talking of gambling, Haldidnt you mention a gaming house called the Angel?
It was eleven oclock, and the night was just beginning.
Chapter Three
Got it! Tassie was still sitting cross-legged on her bed in the light of a tallow candle, so utterly absorbed in her task of getting all the hearts to the bottom of the pack that at first she didnt hear the quiet knock at her door. Then it came again, and she tensed, afraid that it might be Billy. But, no, it was Lemuels voice that she heard, calling out quietly, Tassie. Tassie, are you in there? I was just wonderin if Edwards all right, seeing as I was lookin after him for you
Quickly Tassie scrambled off the bed, pushing her loose hair back from her face and tucking her big shirt into her slim buckskin breeches. Lemuel was a bit sweet on her, she knew, but she trusted him to keep his distance. She opened the door wide. Come in, Lemuel, do. Yes, Edwards fine. Moll hasnt poisoned himyet. My thanks for keeping an eye on him.
Darling Marcus! Darling Marcus! cackled Edward, pleased with his new-found phrase.
Marcus? Lemuel stood in the middle of the room, frowning in puzzlement.
Tassie laughed and coloured a little. Oh, its just some nonsense hes picked up. She tapped Edwards perch lightly. Be quiet now, Edward, do.
Lemuel nodded, his face expressing eager shyness. And you, Tass? Are you all right? Afterafter
She shrugged, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her breeches. After hearing that Moll wants to get rid of me, you mean? Aye, Lemuel, Im all right. Shell not get the better of me, never fear.
Lemuel grinned at her approvingly, then his eyes fell on the pack of cards. You been practising your tricks then, Tass? Theres none of us can beat you at cards, is there?
No one, said Tassie earnestly, because it was true. She could even beat Georgie Jay, without him realising exactly which trick she was up tothe Kingston Bridge cheat, or shaving the cards, or even the difficult sauter la coupe. Shed mastered them all
And then, suddenly, she realised what she had to do next. It was so blindingly obvious that she almost laughed aloud. Her green eyes gleaming, she gestured Lemuel to the battered chair at the foot of the bed. Sit down, Lemuel, she said encouragingly. I want to talk to you.
To me? His freckled face lit up.
Yes, Lemuel. She perched on the edge of her bed again and gazed at him thoughtfully as he lowered his gangly frame into the chair facing her. Last night, she went on, I heard you talking with the others about a private gaming parlour thats just opened up in town. You were saying that everyone of fashionall the swellsare crowding into it. And I heard Georgie Jay tell how someone lost five hundred guineas at basset therein just one evening.
Lemuels perplexed brow cleared a little. Oh, the Angel, you mean? Aye, Georgie Jay was talking of us dressin in our smart togs and goin along there some time. Though its a bit risky, cos the place hasnt got a full gaming licence, you see. That means it could be raided by the Horneys, any time.
Tassie nodded, her chin resting in her hand. Mmm. So it was an illegal gaming den, patronised by the fashionable and the richAlready her pulse was speeding up in anticipation. I see. And what else do they play there, Lemuel, beside basset?
Oh, the usual. Faro, vingt-et-un, piquetyou know, Tass, all those fancy French games! Apparently its full to busting every evening. Attracts everyone, from the highest blue-bloods towell, to
People like us? slid in Tassie gently.
Aye! Though I told Georgie Jay I thought wed be a bit out of our depth, seein as how the stakes are so high. And, like I said, it could be raided any time.
So all the more reason, said Tassie thoughtfully, to go as soon as possible. She smiled at him. Liketonight.
Tonight? Lemuel shook his head. Oh, no, Georgie Jays far too busy. Hes promised Moll hell move her some barrels of ale up from the cellar.
I wasnt thinking of Georgie Jay, whispered Tassie sweetly, leaning forwards from her perch at the edge of the bed. I was thinking about you and me, Lem dear.
He gaped. We cant, Tassie! Wed never get in! And weve not the stakes
I have, she responded calmly. She patted the little money box at her side. And of course well get in. Ladies are admitted, arent they?
Why, yes, stuttered Lemuel. They say the ladies of quality think it fine sport to go along without their husbands knowin, and play in secret. But youre
But Im what, Lem? Tassie stood up and gracefully pirouetted around his chair. I shall dress up like a fine lady, and you can be my escort. And I shall win more money than youve ever seen before, and Ill pay you your share, if you do exactly as I say!
Lemuel was still open-mouthed. But, Tassie, we cant just walk into a place like that and start fleecing them high-up swells.
She broke off her pirouetting to declare, Youre just scared, Lemuel, thats your trouble.
He jumped to his feet at that, burning with hurt pride. I aint scared of nothing! But its too risky for you, girl! Therell be all sorts lurking there amongst the gentrycheats, rakes, whoremongersbad company, Tass!
She gazed at him, her hands on her slender hips, her green eyes gleaming. Then come with me to protect me. If you wont comewhy, then, Ill just have to go on my own. Wont I?
Very well, then! Ill go with you! But if Georgie Jay finds out
And why should he find out, unless you tell him?
Lemuel let out a low moan of defeat.
Already Tassie had worked out that all she needed to do was borrow one of Molls gowns, and pile up her hair in the foolish way all the ladies of fashion did. Dear Lemuel, she grinned, I knew youd agree. Give me twenty minutes to prepare myself, would you? And you must put on your best brown suit, and polish your shoes. Not a word of this to anyone else, mind! She held the door open for Lemuel and he stumbled out, looking rather stunned. She started humming The Bold Ploughboy, then broke off to call after him, No ale, now, to fuddle your wits. Were in for a lively night, you and I!
It was an hour later. The Angel was crowded; and Marcus was uneasy, because it was becoming apparent to him that his good friend Hal was being systematically cheated. How, exactly, he could not say. Hal, playing piquet, had easily won the first game, and the second also. His female opponent appeared almost hesitant, pausing over her discards and frowning like a Johnny Raw.
But the third game she won in six quick hands, a look of unwavering concentration on her face.
From then on, the usually unflappable Hal began to look flustered. Marcus knew that his friend was no mean player, but his female opponent never seemed to put a foot wrong. Marcus himself had stopped playing at the faro table some while ago, because he was unwilling to risk any more of the stake that Hal had lent him; and now he drew closer to study the girls face, because there was something about her that puzzled him. Of course there were plenty of women amongst the men up here in the candlelit, luxuriously furnished back room of the Angel. Some of them were ladies of high rank out for a secret adventure without their husbands, though others were scarcely better than women of the streets. Was this one a Cyprian?
Whatever part she was playing, she certainly played it demurely, keeping her head lowered and speaking at all times in a cool and alluring voice. When she looked up to smile at Hal, Marcus saw that her face was sweetly heart-shaped, and dominated by huge green eyes that drew his gaze time and time again. And her hair was glorious: a rich cluster of golden curls piled in artful disarray, with just a few stray locks trailing down around the slender column of her neck in a way guaranteed to make most men dream of kissing her there
But she wore far too much rouge and lip paint, and as for her gownHer gown was a hideous contraption, made of some reddish-brown fabric in the style of years ago; it was too large for her slender figure, and the shabby lace ruffles at her wrists were yellow with age. Who was she? Who had brought her here?
At that very moment, she looked up at Hal and said, in her gentle voice, Tis my game, sir, I believe. But no credit to me; I rather think fortune smiled on me.
The somewhat bemused Hal put a brave face on it. Nonsense. You were by far the better player, maam! Gallantly he pushed his guinea rouleaux across the table to her. Will you honour me with another game?
The young woman hesitated before saying, Very well, then. Just one more.
One more is probably all I can afford, said Hal ruefully, and his opponent laughed, a pleasing, merry sound that to Marcus was strangely familiar, though he was damned if he could place it. Surely he would remember a girl like that if hed met her before! Her face was almostbeautiful, and yet her clothes, and her lip paint, were ridiculousMarcus looked round. All in all there must be fifty or sixty people crowded in here, and every table had its punters and watchers, all eyeing every turn of the cards, every cut and deal. Hals table was in a corner of the room, and quite a few of the usual gamesters had gathered round, their greedy eyes devouring the golden-haired girl as she began to deal.
Then Marcus saw that somebody else a few yards away was also watching her closely; a nervous long-limbed young fellow in a homespun suit too tight for him, with shockingly cut red hair. Here was her accomplice, thought Marcus scornfully, ready to safeguard the girls winnings and perhaps sell her on for the night! He frowned. Yet her clothes, her entire manner, were just not right for a whore, though God knew shed tried her best, with that face paint.
Marcus again found his memory stirring tantalisingly. Then he saw something. She was spreading her cards in her hand in an attempt to study them, her green eyes wide and her brows drawn together in apparent puzzlement. Her fingernails looked as if she made a habit of chewing them; her painted lips were moving in what appeared to be a na?ve endeavour to calculate the value of her cards.
But there was nothing na?ve about the way she reached to flick a loose fold of the tawdry lace at her wrist, while at the same time making another very quick, almost imperceptible movement. Shes drawn a card from her sleeve and interchanged it with one from her hand. Marcus swore softly under his breath. Of course it was over in an instant, and Hal hadnt noticed a thing, because he was too busy frowning over his own cards. And now, Marcus saw, those thick eyelashes of hers were fluttering demurely as she displayed her cards to Hal and said, in her sweet voice, I think you will find that Ive spoiled your repique, sir. The game is surely mine.
Hal was soundly routed. His pleasant face twisted ruefully in acknowledgement of his fate as he pushed the last of his guinea rouleaux across the table. How clever of you to have kept the guard! Well done, maam, well done indeed; I wish I had half your skill at the game.
The girl, smiling, was already gathering her winnings together. You must take consolation, sir, in the fact that most certainly I had the luck of the cards tonight.
Luck? questioned Marcus grimly. Luck? He could see that her edgy red-haired companion was already sidling through the crowd towards her. No doubt theyd swiftly exchange for golden guineas the rouleaux shed won and move on to some other backstreet gambling haunt, ready to fleece some other innocentif he, Marcus, were to let them
No time to explain to Hal. As Hal rose, Marcus was there in his place, saying quickly to the girl, Your pardon, maam, but I could not help noticing that you play an intriguing game. Would you care to indulge me before you go?
She looked up swiftly, and just for a moment Marcus could have sworn that there was a flash of somethingwas it fear?in her eyes. But then she said, with only a trace of hesitation, Why, with pleasure, sir.
Hal, surprised, muttered to him, Youll find your match there, Marcus. Shes good.
Perhaps thats the attraction, said Marcus, gazing coldly at the girl, whose heart-shaped face still looked somewhat pale beneath her rouge. Shall we say ten shillings the point?
The girl seemed to catch her breath, and then nodded. Marcus beckoned a groom-porter for a fresh pack, and put some card money on the tray. Looking up, he was in time to catch a scarcely perceptible glance between the girl and her red-headed companion, who had perched nervously on a chair nearby. Marcus smiled grimly to himself and handed the pack to the girl. She won the cut, and opted to discard five of her twelve cards. Once more her pretty face with its delicate tip-tilted nose was a mask of concentration.
For a while the play was even. Marcus went down on the first rubber, though not by much. But then, gradually, the girl began pulling away. He watched her fingers, so quick, so agile as they drew his tokens relentlessly towards her. His keen grey eyes, that on active service had been able to see the gleam of gunmetal in woodland over a mile away, strained to see more. This time she made no move towards her wrist-lace; in fact, sheddeliberately?pushed back her cuff to her elbow. He frowned as he noticed a faint ring of fresh finger-shaped bruises around her slender wrist; someone had been rough with her recently. But then he saw what he had been waiting for. Yes. She was marking the cards, indenting certain corners very, very lightly with the sharp little fingernail of her right hand, in a gesture as swift as the blinking of an eye! Marcus carried on playing and was aware of Hals increasingly puzzled frown as his pile of rouleaux continued their journey to the girls side of the table. The girls companion was watching, too, his unease scarcely hidden.
There it was again. A tiny squeeze of his opponents fingernail as she delicately indented yet another glossy card. Moments later she carefully spread out her winning hand, and her cheeks dimpled in a sweet smile. Four aces and three kings, sir! I think I have you, if you please!
Marcus was very still for a moment. Then he deliberately leaned forwards, and picked up the girls cards at one stroke, breaking all the rules of play. Hal, at his shoulder, gasped aloud. The girls painted smile flickered, but her big green eyes were still wide and innocent. Is aught amiss, sir?
Indeed, there is a slight problemmaam, Marcus replied, equally calmly. You see, I discover in myself an aversion to playing with out-and-out cheats.
He was aware of Hal drawing closer, standing tensely at his side. Of the thin, anxious fellow in brown also edging nearer to the girl, his face tight with strain. The girl was better. In fact, she was amazing. She gazed across the table at Marcus, saying in that same sweet, polite voice, Im afraid I dont quite follow your meaning, sir.
Ha! Dont you, by God! Marcus was gathering up all the cards now, and throwing them on the table, picking up one picture card after another with his strong, lean hands and jabbing at the telltale indentations. Youre trying to tell me you didnt do this? he grated out. And this? And this?
His raised voice was drawing onlookers now. And the girls slender figure seemed frozen to her chair as she realised, at last, that her game was at an end. Marcus reached across the table scornfully for the winnings shed garnered from himself and Hal. And then, suddenly, he heard shouting from the street outside, and the sound of feet clattering up the staircase, and the room was filled with cries of alarm. The Watch! The Watch are upon us! Marcus was on his feet already, but not before the wretched girl had grabbed all the rouleaux back and was elbowing her way through the panic-stricken punters towards the back staircase. Marcus lunged after her, and just managed to catch hold of her arm. Not so fast. Not so fast, you bloody little cheat
She fought him quite ferociously, though no one noticed, because all around them people were pushing and jostling and calling out in panic. This was an illegal gaming parlour, after all, and none of them wanted to spend the night in a magistrates cell. Chairs were being overturned, candles extinguished, cards sent flying to the floor as they all tried to get to the stairs that led to the back exit. The girl continued to struggle wildly, but he hung on all the tighter as they were swept towards the top of that staircase with the rest of the fleeing crowd. He must have hurt her; she let out a low cry; then suddenly her elbow in his diaphragm all but winded him, and she hissed, Take your hands off me, you coneyjack, you!
Coneyjack. Thieftaker. Marcus almost dropped her in his surprise. It was you! he exclaimed. You, running from the Watch earlier this evening in the Strand! I hid you from them, told them youd gone the other wayand thenthen, you ungrateful wretch, you damned well picked my pocket!
The press was even tighter now because they were almost at the top of the darkened staircase. For a moment her huge green eyes glinted vividly in the shadows. With fear? Not for long. Maybe, she breathed, thats cos all you overbearing, arrogant gents deserve to be robbed! Then she twisted violently to get free of his grip and called out wildly, Lemuel, Lemuel, where are you? Come and help me, you great slow-witted fool!
Marcus clung on grimly to his captive as the tide of people in full flight swept past them. Lemuel, he growled. So thats your young friends name, is it? Ill wager hes out on the streets by now, running full tilt for whatever hovel you call home
He got no further, because she brought her knee up and thudded it, hard, against his right thigh.
Marcus swore fluently and almost lost her. He snatched a swift look over his shoulder, but of Hal there was no sign, damn it. He tightened his grip on the wretched girl and dragged her with himshe was still kicking outto the crush at the top of the stairs. He wasnt going to let her go, yet if the minx carried on fighting him like this, theyd end up tumbling down the steps, and being trampled underfoot in the stampede
Nothing else for it. He picked the girl up and put her over his shoulder, then let himself be carried down the rickety staircase by the crowd of nervous punters hustling towards the back doorway, and the safety of the warren of dark alleyways that lay behind Great Suffolk Street. Within seconds the girl had started to pummel his back, but fortunately his coat was of good, thick broadcloth; his strongly muscled shoulders were as impervious to her clenched little fists as were his ears to her colourful threats. All the same, he was glad when at last they got outside and he was able to swing the jade down and set her on her feet. It was starting to rain again. Around them the crowd was melting swiftly away; the girl tried to hop off, too, but he gripped her and pulled her into a nearby doorway. There were no lamps here, and the shadows clustered like sepia pools, far away from the candle-lit windows further along the street. Let go of me! She was still struggling, like a wildcat; he almost shook her into submission and suddenly she went limp in his arms. Another trick? If he did let her go, would she fallor run?
Somewhere in the darkness fiddle music was spilling out from a lively tavern. But out here, as the last of the Angels fleeing patrons vanished into the blackness, they were quite alone. The doorway gave them little shelter from the rain, which was landing on her cheeks, washing away her rouge and starring her thick lashesor were they tears he saw? Her golden hair was tumbling from its pins and falling around her shoulders in damp disarray. What would she try next? He expected more insults, more oaths; but this time the cunning jade adopted a different tactic. In a voice that quivered slightly she begged, Please, please, sir, dont hand me in. Im but a poor orphan; I do swear I meant no harm
Marcus had no difficulty hardening his heart against this plea. Ill let you go with the greatest of pleasure. But not before youve given me back my winnings, and also the wallet you stole from me earlier this evening.
She caught her breath. Wallet? Fie, what wallet? Ive not the faintest notion what you mean! Marcus wanted to shake the girl; he found her cheek incredible; but before he could reply he heard the sound of clattering footsteps as some of the magistrates men came rushing down the back staircase from the gaming hell and out into the alley, furious because so far theyd been deprived of their prey. Until now. Marcus cursed thoroughly under his breath. Leave this to me, he hissed at the girl.
Heres one of em, lads! called a constable, jabbing his finger at Marcus. Now, you was up there, wasnt you, eh? He jerked his head towards the deserted upper storey of the ill-fated gaming club. Reckon we need to ask you some questions, siryoure coming along with us, if you please!
Marcus had absolutely no intention of doing so. Swiftly he drew the rainsoaked girl into his arms and laughed. A gaming hell, constable? Not me. In fact, Ive just been down to a little nunnery in Haymarket, where Mother Bentleyyou know her?rules the roost. And from there I picked out this charming maid for a night of pleasure. A whole guinea, Ive paid, and we were just on our way back to my lodgingsnow, do you think Id have time to waste on cards, or dice?
Even as he spoke he heard the girls sharply indrawn breath as the damned little minx prepared to protest. The constables were muttering and scratching their heads, eyeing him dubiously. One word of denial from the girl, and hed be finished.
Swiftly he pulled her hard against his body and bent his head to kiss her. He could taste the cool rain on her lips, could feel her heart thumping through the wet silk of her gown as she struggled like a trapped bird in his arms. He was surprised, because she smelled so clean, so fresh. Surprised, too, because, as he continued to kiss her for the benefit of those gawping officers of the law, she seemed to freeze in shock, as if she had never been kissed before
But that was impossible! Inevitably, though, he felt the spearing of desire at his loins. Her mouth was strangely temptingcool, tender, tantalisingand as he held her closer, just in case the jade once more tried to run, he felt her slender body tense against him, felt the thrust of her nipples pressing against his chest through her thin bodice in a way that made the blood pound in his veins. Aware of some sudden, unguessedat danger, Marcus relaxed his grip on her and fought down his arousal. She sagged in his arms, just as if hed drawn all the strength from her slender body. Marcus felt a pang of pity for her, then reminded himself grimly that she was a pickpocket, a cheat, and no doubt a whore. He tried not to wonder again whether it was rain or tears that had gathered on her thick lashes.
Youre an excellent actress, minx, he muttered grimly in her ear. But youre not getting out of this one. Two guineas were in that wallet of mine, and two guineas worth of a kiss I shall have, if only to save us both from a night in the magistrates cells. In a louder voice he called out to the watching men, Would you leave us in peace, gents? I told you, I paid dearly for this little lightskirt!
You made a mistake, then, jeered one of the men. Pretty she may be, but she aint got enough flesh on her to keep a man warm for a minute, let alone a night.
Oh, let im alone, muttered another. The fools probably lost all his money gambling. Hell be glad of any doxy he can get. Come onIm cold and wet. The pair of em aint worth the blasted trouble.
Marcus still held on tightly to the girl even though the officers of the watch were disappearing down the street; for he could hear fresh footsteps hurrying towards them from the opposite direction. But it was only Hal pounding up the alleyway, his boots splashing in the river of water that ran down the cobbled streets, his expensive wide-brimmed hat dripping with rain. Marcus, there you are! he exclaimed. I went after the girls accomplice, but he bolted like a ferret. See youve managed to hang on to the girl herself, though. By all thats holy, never seen such a neat gamester in my life!
There was almost admiration in his voice. Marcus pulled the girl back into the shelter of the doorway, out of the rain. So you realised she was cheating you, did you? Just a little late, if I may say so. Any ideas what to do with her? Im wondering if I should hand her over to the magistrates for her own good
That started her up. No! You cant prove a thing! Youll not send me to gaol, youll not! The girl was starting to struggle wildly again, her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath her soaking gown.
Then Hal, scratching his elegant head in some bemusement, said, I agree with the girl; not sure, you know, that the magistrates are the answer, dear boy. But, he added in his droll way, she certainly brings to mind what we were talking of earlier.
What the devil are you talking about?
Hal shrugged defensively. Well, with that hair of hers, and her skill at cards, you could almost dress the girl up and use her to tempt your cousin Sebastian
Corbridge! Marcuss eyes opened wide as he stared at his captive. Her ravishing blonde hair had tumbled from its pins and was glittering in the rain: guinea-gold curls. CorbridgeYes. Yes. The girls an expert at trickery. Yet with that look of wide-eyed innocence, she had both of us fooled; Hal, my friend, youve maybe hit on the answer
Hal was staring at him. But, Marcus, I didnt really mean it. Only a joke. Look at her. Shes dressed like a scarecrow, swears like a trooper
Shes also a fine little actress, Marcus announced. It was she who stole my wallet earlier this evening.
No! Drawing warily nearer, Hal regarded the girl with a kind of horrified fascination. By God, yes, I see it nowits the fleet-footed lad you saved from pursuit! Not at all sure, you know, that Corbridges fancy runs in that particular direction, dear boy. But then again, his taste for whores is said to range far and wide.
Marcus felt the girl suddenly freeze into stillness. Are you calling me a whore? she breathed.
Hal stammered, No! Not exactly, you know, I merely suggested But with a last desperate burst of strength the girl had broken free, and Marcus was lunging after her, catching her round her slender waist; which was just as well because Tassie, who had hardly consumed anything all day except for one over-rich glass of wine at the Angel, suddenly swayed on her feet.
Hal called out, Gently there, Marcus. Go easy with her, man!
Trickery, said Marcus dismissively, all trickery. But even as he spoke, he had to move quickly, and was just in time to catch her as she crumpled slowly into his arms.
Chapter Four
Tassie woke to find herself in a big four-poster bed curtained with damask drapes. Feeling suddenly as if she couldnt breathe, she pushed her way out to find that it was daytime, and she was in a vast room full of dark mahogany furniture with gloomy paintings on the walls. Fear dried her throat. There was no sound at all, except for the ticking of an ormolu clock on the marble mantelshelf above the fireplace. The fingers pointed to just past three oclock. She must have slept all nightand half the day.
She flew to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. Her panic mounting, she hurried across to the big, velvet-draped window through which the low February sun was sending slanting rays of pale afternoon light. There was no escaping this way either, for from the window it was a straight drop of thirty feet or more to the broad pavement below. Now theres a bone-breaker of a fall, Georgie Jay would say
Where was she? How far away were her friends? She knew she was still in London, because beyond the huge stuccoed houses that lined this wide square she could see slate rooftops and white church spires stretching away to the familiar golden dome of St Pauls. But there was no sign at all of the seething bustle of humanity that filled the noisy streets around Covent Garden. A solitary carriage was pulling up further down the road, and a footman held open the door to let out a beautifully dressed woman and a small girl.
The way the woman held the childs hand, and smiled down at her, with love, brought a sudden ache to Tassies heart. Then her mind was filled with other emotions, because shed suddenly realised that she was no longer wearing Molls shabby old gown, but was swathed in a white lawn nightdress, with lacings at her throat, and with skirts that fell down to her bare ankles. She touched it with distaste and growing alarm. Who had undressed her, and put her in this? She couldnt remember a thing about arriving at the house! But she did remember those men last night. Marcus and his fancy friend Hal. Had they brought her here? If so, why? Why hadnt Marcus just handed her over to the constables? Then she remembered. And felt rather sick again. She sat suddenly on the edge of the vast bed, and recalled how Marcus and his friend had been discussing her hair, her voice, her skill with cards. Talking about heras if she was for sale.
Molls brash voice came back to her, as she warned, You must have seen the way men are starting to look at her! Therell be trouble soon if you dont look out
She clasped her hands together tightly. Something told her that what the men Marcus and Hal had in mind for her could be a good deal more dangerous even than being hauled up before the magistrates. Frantically she started to search the room for her shoes, her stockings, the horrible gown shed stolen from Moll; but it was no good. Every chest, every closet was quite empty.
And besides, the door was locked.
She stood very still in the centre of the room, trying to keep calm, trying to think what her friends would do. Stay in charge, Tass, Georgie Jay was always telling her. Size up your enemys weaknessand remember every card thats been played in the game.
But her game so far, with the man called Marcus, had been a simple path to disaster. Again her heart quailed within her. Shed been stupid enoughyes, and ungrateful enoughto pick his temptingly placed pocket as he hid her from the Watch yesterdayand then, as if Fortune was wreaking revenge, shed been challenged by him to a game of piquet at the Angel. Shed recognised him immediately, of course, with his thick dark hair and his lean, hard face and his limp. A little shiver had gone through her as he assessed her. But she still hadnt been able to resist cheating him, playing a dangerous game as ever; and if it hadnt been for the place being raided shed have escaped with her winnings, despite the fact that the man called Marcus had realised she was cheating him. But the general alarm, the rush to get out, had meant that she was trapped, literally, in her enemys arms. And then hed recognised her as the thief whod taken his wallet.
Hed also assumed that she was a doxy, and that Lemuel was her keeper. Lemuel, in charge of her! That was a joke, but nothing else about her situation was very funny at all.
Tassie curled up, shivering, on the big bed. She couldnt help but remember the moment when Marcus had pulled her against his long, powerful bodyhow hed felt dangerously strong and full of hard-packed muscle. Then hed kissed her, so casually, as if hed done that sort of thing with women a hundred times beforeShe clenched her hands tightly.
And that wasnt the worst of it. The worst of it was that shed been wildly disturbed. Her whole body had pounded with agitation. She should have pushed him away, should have defended herself, as she had that time with Billy, but instead shed found herself melting treacherously in his arms. She remembered all too vividly how her small breasts had tingled, her nipples growing hard, almost painful as they were crushed against his broad chest. And all the time, as he pressed his lips mercilessly against hers, all the time, as his strong hands played across her back for the benefit of the constables, pulling her even closer, shed felt an insistent ache of longing, a melting in the pit of her stomach, as though a flame had been kindled there
Worst of all, though, had been the cold, shivery feeling that engulfed her when at last he let her go, and insulted her so hatefully in front of those leering constables.
They had some plan afoot, the arrogant Marcus and his friend Halsomething to do with a man called Corbridge. Then when shed tried to run away, theyd kidnapped her and brought her here. Why? Oh, this was playing deeper than shed ever intended when she planned her stunt with Lemuel last night. She had to get out of here.
Just then she heard the sound of footsteps coming towards her door. She jumped up, her arms folded defensively across her breasts as she heard a key turning in the lock. Her heart thumped so heavily she thought she might choke. The door opened, and a woman glided into the room. She wore a black gown, edged frugally with lace; her brown hair was gathered tightly at the nape of her neck. She was young, yet she was dressed like a middle-aged matron. Was she perhaps the housekeeper here? Behind her followed a thin female servant, also in black, but with a starched white apron over her skirt and a white lace cap on her head. She carried a tray of food, and her expression was dauntingly grim. But the first woman smiled at Tassie and, to Tassies astonishment, her unremarkable face was quite transformed by the kindness that shone from within her.
My dear, she said softly, you should not have got out of bed! You should still be resting. She turned to the maid, who had put the tray down on a small satinwood table. That will be all, thank you, Emilia. You may go.
The maid gave Tassie a far from friendly look, which Tassie duly registered. Then she left, and Tassie waited, tense, silent. You looked so ill, my dear, the woman was continuing, when Hal and Major ForresterMarcusbrought you here last night. You need to rest. And you need plenty of good, nourishing food.
Major Forrester. An army officer. Tassie shut her eyes and opened them, both frightened and perplexed. If Hal and Marcus had brought her here, why hadnt they told this kind womanwho clearly had authoritythat Tassie was a common thief and a cheat to boot?
We thought you might enjoy a light meal after your rest. The woman pointed encouragingly at the tray. What is your name, pray?
Tassie took a deep breath. Tassie. Thats allma am.
Then welcome to this house, Tassie. Hal has instructed me to look after you until you get your strength back.
Tassie muttered, Saints and fiddlesticks, I dont believe She corrected herself rapidly. I meanwhy, maam?
Oh, you poor thing, of course, youll hardly remember! Youre here because Hal and Marcus found you, hungry and near-frozen with cold, out on the streets last night. You fainted; they couldnt just leave you there.
Tassie blinked. So the two men hadnt told this lady anything like the truth, and the omission did nothing to reassure her. She glanced quickly at the door, wondering whether to make a run for it right now. They have acted verynobly, she breathed.
Her irony was completely lost on the other woman. Well, naturally! She smiled. Hal is sometimes rash and impetuous, but he has a most generous heart. And so, of course, has Marcus. Gracious me, here I am, rattling on, and your food is growing cold! Ill leave you to eat in peacebut first, can I let anyone know you are here? Friends, or family?
No one, maam, said Tassie in a small voice. No one at allshe should be used to it by now, but even so she was caught unawares by the sudden ache in her throat. But you are kind to think of it. Mymy thanks.
The lady in black frowned, her head a little on one side. Strange, she murmured. Hal and Marcus said you were from one of the poorest quarters of the city, but your voice, your manner of speaking, give that the lie. Surely you have not always lived in poverty?
I was brought up in the country, said Tassie quickly. I am an orphan.
Ah, one hears such sad stories about orphansWere you treated kindly?
Tassie shrugged. I was fed, and given a roof over my head, maam.
I see. Tassie. Tassie. What an interesting name. Well, enough of my questions. Enjoy your food. I will visit you later; no doubt Marcus will also.
The lady left the room, closing the door behind her. Tassie, bracing herself anew at the sound of Marcuss name, heard her footsteps retreating softly down the corridor, and drew a deep, deep breath to steady herself. For the kind lady had helped her more than she would ever know, in that she had forgotten to lock the door
Marcus, who had been restlessly pacing the first-floor drawing room as the afternoon sun sank low in the sky, turned questioningly towards the black-gowned Caro Blakesley as she came to join him. Hals sister was one of the kindest, sweetest people he knew, and the death of her husband in a riding accident a year ago was a tragedy she had borne with dignity. Now he asked her, quickly, Is she awake, Caro? Shes not ill, is she?
She seems well, Marcus. I think the girl slept for so long simply because she was totally exhausted, and weak with hunger, poor thing. I took her a hot meal and told her to rest. She was most grateful.
Marcuss grey eyes narrowed. Grateful? Are you sure of that?
Yes! Contrary to what you said, she seems to me to have a shy but sweet nature. Her name is Tassie. I was quite enchanted by
Marcus broke in. Caro. You did lock the door to her room again, didnt you?
Caro hesitated. Why, no, I did not. It seems so hard to keep her a prisoner, when she is such a meek, gentle thing! She was an orphan, you know, brought up in the country
But Marcus was no longer listening, because he was already heading for the hallway.
He caught Tassie at the top of the stairs. She turned to run, but he was on her in seconds, grasping her firmly as her arms and legs flailed amidst the loose folds of her voluminous nightdress. Breathing hard, a little too conscious of her strikingly feminine form beneath the enveloping garment, Marcus carted her back down the corridor and threw her on to the four-poster bed, then very firmly shut the door. Outside, the February dusk was gathering into chilly darkness; he quickly closed the curtains, and lit a candle from the low-burning fire, while Tassie lay there glaring at him.
He went to stand over her, his hands on his hips, and said in a voice calculated to frighten her far more than any ranting or raving, I was informed that you were resting.
Yes. Yes, I was!
Carolike her brother, Halis good, and kind, and far too trusting.
Tassie heaved herself up. Carothat ladyshe is Hals sister?
Of course. Why, what else could she be?
Tassie muttered, I thought she was praps the housekeeper here.
Housekeeper!
Well, how was I supposed to know different? Nobody said! She felt her heart thumping rather hard again, but tossed back her loose hair defiantly. Any rate, one things for sure: Caro is kinder than you!
Certainly Im not so easily taken in by a cunning trickster. He smiled dangerously. Trying to escape, were you? Decided to do a runner?
Tassie bit her lip. She certainly wasnt going to try to run past him, even if he did have a limp. She was nearly as tall as Lemuel, but this man towered over her, six foot of hardened muscle, shoulders forbiddingly broad beneath his riding coat, strong booted legs set firmly apart. Major Marcus Forrester. All ready for action, she thought rather faintly. His long dark hair was tied loosely back from his face in a way that only emphasised the implacable set of his jaw, the iron glint in his grey eyes. And she couldnt help but remember his kissOne way or another, she really was in trouble. Time for desperate measures.
Slowly she pulled herself up off the bed. She let a couple of tears pool in her eyes, then, as soon as she guessed hed noticed them, she looked away and swallowed. Its a bit difficult to explain. You see, II was just going to look for the serving maid who brought me my food. I was hoping she would help me. It is my monthly time, sir, andand
Instantly Marcuss face was all concern. He said, Dear God, how stupid of me. You mean Emilia: I shall fetch her to you straight away, with all that you require.
Tassie blushed shyly and glanced up at him from beneath demurely lowered lashes. My thanks.
But then, suddenly, his eyes flashed with anger and he sprang towards her. By God, you impudent wench, he roared, is there no end to your trickery?
Hed grabbed her by the arm, and with his free hand was grasping at the deep pockets of her nightdress. And Tassie realised with horror that he had seen, outlined against the fine lawn fabric, the little silver mirror and the gilt scent phial that shed hidden there. She grabbed for them at the same time he did, but she was too late, and as he scooped the precious objects into his hands, Tassie dived instinctively for the door.
A futile attempt. Thrusting the objects on to a nearby table, he hauled her back, and she was overpowered by the sheer masculine force of him. He was breathing hard as he fought her into submission: every plane and angle of his lean face seemed carved in granite, and there was a dangerous light in his eyes. You little thief! he exploded. How could you steal from Caro, who has made you a welcome guest in her house?
She cursed her survivors instinct to take what she could, born of years of hardship. Trying vainly to still the wild beating of her heart, Tassie gazed up at him with despairing defiance. I didnt know this was her house, did I?
Even so, this goes beyond all bounds.
And so do you, youre a bully and aa prig! she declared, taking refuge in attack. Youve no right to keep me here against my will, no right at all, and you will let me go, this minute!
He shrugged, and to Tassies surprise, a slow smile started to soften his features as he gazed down at her. He spread his hands wide. Playing the street minx again? Im not stopping you. A positively wicked grin curved his mouth. But youd not be wise to go out on the streets looking like that, I assure you.
Bewildered by his sudden change of heart, still breathless from her outburst, Tassie followed the raking line of his hard grey eyes and looked down at herself. To her utter dismay, she realised that in the struggle for the trinkets, the laces that fastened the neck of her nightgown had come undone, leaving her bosom completely exposed. He was watching her with cynical amusement, and she gave a horrified gasp and tried to pull the fabric back across her throat. But her fingers fumbled with the unaccustomed laces, giving him time to lazily reach out his hand and brush his palm across her pink-tipped breasts; and as her nipples pulled and tightened to his touch, Tassie felt a sensation flood through her so strongly that she could scarcely stand. Like his kiss, onlyonlyHer breasts ached almost unbearably, and her stomach churned with dark longing. She tried to back away, but her legs were weak; she was struggling for control, yet felt quite helpless as his long fingers toyed with those incredibly sensitive crests.
And Marcus, too, was shaken. God, but she was beautiful, this girl! Common thief she might be, but she was also a young woman, and all that any man could desire; that was why the heat seared his flesh and pounded between his thighs. Watch yourself, Marcus, he warned himself. Douse that flame at your loins, man, she knows exactly what shes doing. Aloud he drawled, A tempting doxy, indeed, in spite of that hot temper! Well played, my resourceful vagabond. You certainly know how to distract your opponent when caught in the wrong, dont you? But you should take care, you know. Not every man would react to your teasing with such restraint.
Tassie almost groaned with shame. He thought shed revealed herself to him deliberately! Desperately she tried to push him away, but he knocked her hands aside, then reached with almost dismissive casualness to catch at the laces of her nightgown and proceeded, with those same long, sensitive fingers that had just tormented her so wickedly, to tie the laces into perfect bows across her throat. Tassie slapped at him blindly, overwhelmed by his nearness. Get your hands off me, she faltered. Or IllIll
Marcus was in control again. An iron self-control hed learned in battle. Obediently he took a step backwards and admired his handiwork. Youll what, minx? Call for the constables?
Tassie, white-faced, let her gaze swing towards the door; Marcus quickly moved to block her path. Oh, no. No escape that way, my dear. At leastnot before Ive informed you of a proposition Ive got in mind for you.
Tassie pulled herself together with an effort. Indeed? she flashed back. A proposition? And there was I thinking youd already made several! Let me go now; give me back my clothes, or Ill tell that kind lady, Caro, that youve tried to kidnap me!
He smiled, his teeth white and even in the shadowy light of the fire. Just as I could tell her youre a thief. Save your histrionics for the low-class dives of Covent Garden, Tassie. Yes, I know your name; Caro told me. Let me repeat that Im not in the market for light-fingered doxies. She flinched again; he pressed on. But you do happen to have several qualities in which I am interested. Firstly, youre obviously an expert at all forms of trickerycards, thievery, and so on. Secondlyyoure rather a good little actress, arent you? Ive noticed how quickly youre able to switch from ranting hussy to poor, beleaguered innocent, from spouting street cant to quite respectable English. Tell me, where did you learn to speak so well when youve a mind to it?
Her heart thudded again, but she tilted her chin defiantly. Why, sir, it just comes natural to me! she declared, putting her hands on her hips and deliberately adopting her ripest city slang. Anyone can speak proper when they choose!
That I take leave to doubt. But now Ill move on to my third point. You, as I see it, are in deep trouble. You stole my wallet, and were cheating at the Angel; by rights you should be locked up in Newgate. Not a pretty prospect, as Im sure youll agree.
Tassie did agree. Shed heard about Newgate, and the very thought of being inside that foul place made her feel quite sick. I thought you were talking about a proposition, she said in a low voice. But it sounds more to me like some kind of threat. And I warn you, if you turn me in Ill deny everything!
He said evenly, in a voice that made her shiver, You could try. But I would advise against it. He took a few uneven paces round the room, and paused eventually with one hand on the mantelpiece, and his booted right foot on the fender. The firelight flickered over his lean, vivid face and made sparks appear to dance in his disturbing grey eyes. Let me take you to the heart of the matter. There is a man in London on whom I wish, very badly, to be revenged. He has several weaknesses, and I intend to attack accordingly. Firstly, he is a gambler, who cannot resist a challenge when the stakes are high. And, secondly, he has a marked liking for pretty women who are skilled at card play.
So Im ruled out for certain, surely, if you are looking for someone pretty? Since you make it quite clear that I am nothing of the kind!
She saw a half-smile flicker across his strong moutha dangerous, all-male smile. Those werent my precise words, minx, he softly said. I think, in fact, that you could be very, very pretty.
She felt the colour rising in her cheeks. You jest with me, Tassie said flatly.
I assure you, this is no jest. No, indeed. His voice, his expression told her he was in deadly earnest. To put it briefly, Tassie, you and I could help each other out, quite considerably.
Tassie clasped her hands together tightly. So far Ive gathered that you want me to play cards with your cousin. Sebastian Corbridge.
Shed taken him by surprise. How on earth do you know his name?
I heard you talking about him last night, with your friendHal. She looked up at him directly. But why bother with me, Marcus? Fie, it would only take a skilled card cheat one night to fleece this man Corbridge, and you must know there are plenty of those in London town! Why not look one of them up, and leave me out she let scorn trickle into her words of your petty scheme of revenge?
Marcus was silent for a while, but he was still assessing her with those iron-hard eyes that made her feel so uneasy. At last he said, This isnt about me, Tassie. Corbridge, you see, has cheated not me, but my godfather, a kindly, honest old man who has no idea how to protect himself against rogues. That is why I am acting for him. I want to lay a trap for Corbridge, I want him lured into deep, deep play; and I want you to be the bait at the heart of it.
Bait. Tassie swallowed rather hard on the sudden dryness in her throat. His coat of dark grey broadcloth had fallen open as he talked, and the moulded softness of his white silk shirt did nothing to diminish the breadth or the power of his shoulders and chest. She found her gaze flickering with some agitation over the strong muscles of his thighs beneath his tight-cut breeches and remembered a little faintly how shed felt, all too clearly, the evidence of his arousal as hed casually fondled her breasts.
Bait. This man wanted to make a bargain with her. He wanted to cold-bloodedly use her to trap an enemy he despised.
Oh, this was possibly the most dangerous man she had ever met. She would have to keep her defences up, every minute, until she got well away from here. She tilted her chin in defiance, though really she felt more alone and more afraid than she had for many years. And how exactly were you thinking of paying me, Marcus? By the hour? By the day? How do you usually hire youryour sluts, pray?
He folded his arms across his chest. I thought Id reassured you several times that youre really not to my taste. I was merely offering to pay you for your time, and skills
Her fear was banished by anger. Oh, this I will not endure! You think your fancy words and fine money give you the right to insult whomsoever you pleasebut youve truly picked the wrong person this time, believe me, Major Forrester! Now, Id be extremely obliged if youd give me back my clothes and let me go, this very minute.
No!
There was a pause. Then Marcus said slowly, regretfully, It really is a great pity, Tassie, but I think youd be wise to go along with my plan.
Tassie paled. Why?
Unfortunately, some things are beyond my power. You see, the constables have got hold of that young red-headed scamp who was with you last night.
She was shaking her head, feeling unsteady. No. Lemuel got away from the Angel, I know he did. Youre lying!
He shook his head. He made the mistake of going back to the Angel once the fuss had died down, to look for you; that was when the constables arrested him. Lemuels not as clever as you, is he, Tassie? Hes the kind who talks too much. If hes not released pretty quickly, he could get you and all your friends into serious trouble.
Her heart was thudding again and she felt rather sick. So what must I do? To help him? Oh, poor Lemuel, always the most loyal of friends, and tis all my fault Marcuss eyes were hard as granite. I have a certain amount of influence at the Bow Street office. I could get your friend out of there, without a charge. But only if you agree to help me with my plan against Corbridge.
Tassie gazed at him, her heart aching with distress. Soso youre prepared to blackmail me now, are you, in order to get what you want?
Blackmail? he queried sharply. Hardly. All you have to do is dress yourself up like a ladyin clothes which I will provideand speak charmingly, as I know very well you can. When the time is right I want you to play cards with my cousin Lord Sebastian Corbridge, making quite sure that you win; in return, Ill help your foolish friend and reward you handsomely.
How much?
Im willing to offer you the sum of fifty guineas.
The ground rocked beneath Tassies feet. She had never seen so much money in her life. Fifty guineas She drew a deep breath and tossed her hair back from her face. Arent you afraid that I might rob and cheat you again, Marcus?
Marcus laughed, and in his laughter was a sudden chill. No, Im not. Not in the slightest. You see, Ill be keeping a very close eye on you, Tassie. I hold all the aces this time. From now on, dont even think of getting the better of me.
She would think of nothing else, Tassie vowed resolutely. But her answer had to be yes. Yes, she would accept his offerfirstly, because Lemuel was in trouble, and, secondly, because this mans money, so casually offered, could mean more than he would ever guess.
It might help her to find out who she really was.
Only a few days ago, back at the Blue Bell, Tassie had asked Georgie Jay casually, How would you find out, Georgie? If there was some mystery about your past? If you wanted to know where you really, truly belonged?
Georgie Jay had frowned. Its the same old story if you want anything, Tass. You need money. Money for fancy investigatorsmoney for lawyers. Youd need a whole purseful of guineas to go down that road, girl. Not thinkin about that place you ran from all those years ago, are you now? Shed shaken her head. And yet she was always thinking about it, always. Now, in this bedroom, alone with Marcus, she swallowed down the sudden ache in her throat. Shed known for months that her time with kind Georgie Jay and his friends could not go on for ever. You need money
Bait, Marcus had said. Shed be the bait in the trap; the lure to tempt his enemy Corbridge into a deep, deep game. But once Lemuel was safe, she, Tassie, would make very sure that she was the one deciding on the order of play. She faced Marcus squarely, hiding all her inner turmoil like the player, the trickster he took her to be. Fifty guineas, you said?
I did.
And you promise to pay me as soon as Ive done what you want?
Most certainly I promise.
And youll get Lemuel away from the constables Tassie thrust out her hand. We have a bargain, Marcus, you and I. But the touch of his warm, strong fingers as he grasped hers unsettled her anew. She dragged her hand away quickly. He proceeded to tell her then that she would be staying here, with Caro to look after her, until the time was right to tackle Corbridge; and Tassie nodded coolly, as if it were every day that she made a bargain for fifty guineas with a complete stranger. But her heart was thudding against her chest like a caged bird by the time he finally left her. And after hed shut the door, she heard the key being turned in the lock outside.
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Lucy Ashford
Praise for
Lucy Ashford
writing as Elizabeth Redfern:
THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES
Unputdownable[a] remarkable debuta glittering
tale of London in 1795, full of science, intrigue, war,
revolution, and obsessive passion.
Guardian
An engrossing read and a rich,
pungent evocation of the period.
The Observer
brilliantly handled to keep the reader guessing
right to the end.
Charles Palliser
Striking and originala star is born.Literary Review
Quite wonderfulIt is Redferns ability to
bring each scene, each character alive
that makes this such toothsome reading.
USA TODAY
AURIEL RISING
Intelligent.The New York Times
Richly atmosphericRedferns strength
is in recreating a morally corrupt world
Publishers Weekly
You do have qualities in which I am interested, Marcus said.
There is a man in London on whom I wish, very badly, to be revenged. He has several weaknesses, and I intend to attack accordingly. Firstly he is a gambler, who cannot resist a challenge when the stakes are high. And secondly he has a marked liking for pretty women who are skilled at card play.
So Im ruled out for certain, surely, if you are looking for someone pretty? Since you make it quite clear that I am nothing of the kind!
She saw a half-smile flicker across his strong moutha dangerous, all-male smile. Those werent my precise words, minx, he said softly. I think, in fact, that you could be very, very pretty.
Tassie felt the colour rising in her cheeks. You jest with me.
I assure you, this is not jest. No, indeed. His voice, his expression told her he was in deadly earnest. To put it briefly, Tassie, you and I could help each other out quite considerably.
Lucy Ashford, an English Studies lecturer, has always loved literature and history, and from childhood one of her favourite occupations has been to immerse herself in historical romances. She studied English with history at Nottingham University, and the Regency is her favourite period.
Lucy has written several historical novels, but this is her first for Mills & Boon. She lives with her husband in an old stone cottage in the Peak District, near to beautiful Chatsworth House and Haddon Hall, all of which give her a taste of the magic of life in a bygone age. Her garden enjoys spectacular views over the Derbyshire hills, where she loves to roam and let her imagination go to work on her latest story.
This is Lucy Ashfords debut novel for Mills & Boon Historical Romance.
AUTHOR NOTE
Ive always adored historical romances. I grew up daydreaming about King Arthurs knights, Rosemary Sutcliffs Roman heroes, the Scarlet Pimpernel and, of course, Georgette Heyers Regency rakes.
So you can imagine that, although Id had some success writing historical thrillers, I was really longing to create a romance set in a bygone age. And who else to approach but Mills & Boon?
After a lot of fun dreaming up my plot and characters, and with a great deal of help from skilled and sympathetic editors, I finally became a Mills & Boon author with THE MAJOR AND THE PICKPOCKET. The story is set in 1780, at a time when gambling fever was really starting to take the nation in its grip. Great lords and ladies would lose and win mighty fortunes in all-night sittings. My feisty heroine, Tassie, is as skilled as any of them at tricking her way out of trouble at the turn of a cardthat is, until the wounded war hero Major Marcus Forrester calls her bluff!
So here it ismy first Mills & Boon Historical Romance. I do hope you enjoy the story of how the Major and the mischievous pickpocket Tassie discover true love together.
The Major and the Pickpocket
Lucy Ashford
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u770df9dc-48d9-54fa-8f2c-e286461bd240)
Praise (#u8b55c30b-bd7a-51c7-a6f6-e0fcddd81b96)
Excerpt (#ufe908feb-83e9-5d27-9fed-aedeb07b5b7c)
Author The Author (#ub3552f07-baf0-5445-8c7c-d0e3d7e754a6)
Author Note (#ue3c91a4b-a3e5-56b0-b7bb-f625c728d6bc)
Title Page (#ub4759ebc-38dd-523f-8b27-8c30926ec6d7)
Chapter One (#u6ecf89ab-0144-5795-b855-b69753ae00e2)
Chapter Two (#u3a85bb8d-a772-5c1e-a5e0-401c78af832c)
Chapter Three (#ucde59bd2-9ccf-50b9-b442-008ac1934d94)
Chapter Four (#u1dd6cbee-2ca2-5ade-8343-2d1e67dd5307)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
LondonFebruary 1780
Heavy rain that night meant the streets were almost deserted, and so it was even more startling for the few pedestrians in the vicinity of Pall Mall to see a big chestnut mare being pulled up in a frenzy of sparking hooves outside the porticoed entrance of one of Londons most discerning clubs. The mare had been ridden hard. Its glossy flanks were heaving, and its eyes rolled whitely in the gleam of the yellow lamplight. Swiftly the horses rider dismounted, thrusting the reins and a few coins towards a hovering groom before swinging round to face a footman who watched him uncertainly from the shelter of the imposing doorway. At this time of night, and in this sort of foul February weather, club members usually arrived by carriage or sedan, not like some whirlwind from hell on horseback.
But before the footman could issue a challenge, the dark-haired rider, his mouth set in a grim line, was already striding up the wide steps. It was noticeable now that he had a slight limp, but it didnt seem to slow him in the least. His long riding coat, glistening with rain, whirled out behind him as he crashed open the door, and his whip was still clutched in his hand. As the gust of cold air hed let in billowed through the lofty reception hall, all the candles were set a-flicker, and a number of disdainful faces turned to stare. A plump butler started busily towards the intruder, but found himself brushed aside, like a moth.
Im looking for Sebastian Corbridge, announced the man. Lord Sebastian Corbridge. His voice was calm, but the menacing gleam in his eyes was like sparks struck from flint.
He looked as if he had been riding hard all day, to judge by the mud on his boots, and the way his dark, unpowdered hair fell in disordered waves to his collar. He was not old, perhaps no more than twenty-five or twenty-six, but the taut lines of fatigue that ran from his nose to his strong jaw made him look older. The butler backed away warily, because he could see that this tall stranger with the limp wore a sword beneath his loose riding coat. And unlike most of the primped, scented men of leisure who frequented this club, he looked as if he would know how to use it.
By now the mans abrupt intrusion had registered even in the furthest recesses of the reception hall. Murmured conversations died away; startled faces, adorned in many cases with powder and patches, turned one after the other towards the doorway. Even the sombre portraits hanging from the oak-panelled walls seemed to gaze disapprovingly at the abrasive stranger whose clothing continued to drip water on the fine parquet floor, creating little puddles around his leather riding boots.
Lord Sebastian Corbridge. I want him, the intruder repeated softly, his hand flicking his whip against his booted leg in unspoken warning.
Someone rose languidly from a deep leather chair in a shadowed alcove. He was about the same age as the intruder, but his appearance could not have been more different, for his elegantly curled cadogan wig was immaculately powdered; his blue satin frock coat, with its discreet ruffles of lace at cuff and throat, was quite exquisitely fitted to his slender body. And his haughty, finely bred face expressed utter scorn as he gazed at the man who spoke his name.
So, Marcus, he drawled, taking a lazy pinch of snuff from a filigree box. Youre back. As usual, dear fellow, you seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The army hasnt done much for your manners, has it? Members only allowed in here, Im afraid
Sebastian Corbridge broke off, as the dark-haired man threw his whip aside, then covered the ground between them to grasp his blue satin lapels with both hands. My God, Corbridge, the man grated out, but youve got some explaining to do. Let me tell you that Ive just returned from Lornings, and I didnt like what I found there. Youd better start talking. Youd better think up some excuses, and quickly.
Corbridge looked down with pointed disdain at the hands that gripped his exquisite lapels. So youve ridden all the way from Gloucestershire, he sneered, the slight tremor of fear disguised by heavy scorn. Dear me. And there was I thinking you might have come straight from some modish salonafter all, I suppose its just about possible that clothing such as yours is permitted at fashionable gatherings now that there are so many unemployed ex-army officers around town
The taller mans powerful shoulder muscles bunched dangerously beneath his greatcoat, and Corbridge was lifted from the ground.
Do put me down, Marcus! breathed Lord Sebastian Corbridge. You smell of horse, man. Wet horses. All in all, youre rather overdoing itbetraying your origins, you know?
All around the room their audience watched the scene in breath-holding fascination. A young footman, whod just come through from the inner salon bearing a brandy decanter on a silver tray, froze into immobility at the sight, his mouth agape, and the candlelight danced on the golden-amber liquid as it shivered behind the cut glass. Slowly, the dark-haired man called Marcus let go of his victim. His steel-grey eyes were still burning with intensity, and the skin around his grim mouth was white. He drew a ragged breath. At least, cousin Sebastian, I dont stink of trickery and theft.
Nearby an older man whose face was red with indignation jumped to his feet. Enough, man, he rasped at the intruder. Guard your tongue, or well have you thrown out bodily!
Corbridge shook his head quickly, smoothing down his satin lapels. No need for that, eh, Marcus? Firstly, Id like to hear you explain yourself. And, secondly, Id much, much rather you didnt address me as cousin.
Id rather not have to address you as anything, said Marcus. He was more in control of himself now. But the fact remains that we are, unfortunately, related. And you ask me to explain myself; but first Ill ask you this. How do you justify the fact that youve managed to rob my elderly godfather of everything: every acre of land, every penny of savings, and above all the home he loves so dearly?
Lord Corbridge arched his pale eyebrows, just a little. Facts, dear Marcus, let us look at the facts! Though facts, I remember, were never your strong point. Always emotional, werent you? Must be your unstable heritage showing through.
Marcuss face darkened and his fists clenched dangerously at his sides. Corbridge, after taking a hasty step back from him, went on hurriedly, Ive robbed Sir Roderick Delancey of absolutely nothing, I assure you! In fact, I tried to help him, tried to dissuade him from plunging into yet greater debtsGambling is such a sad sickness, especially at his age. He shrugged, an expression of concern creasing his smooth features. But in spite of my every endeavour, Marcus, the foolish Sir Roderick continued to plunge yet deeper into the mire. I extricated him from the likelihood of a debtors prison at vast personal expense. In return, he agreed to offer me as security the great hall at Lornings and the land that goes with it.
If he loses Lornings, hell be a penniless bankrupt!
Wrong again, Marcus. Corbridge gave a thin-lipped smile, drawing confidence from those whod gathered around him. Your godfather will always have a roof over his headthe Dower House, to be preciseand some income from the home farm. Though its more than the pitiful old fool deserves. Gambling is a quite fatal disease, I fear.
And one that he was never infected with, until you decided to poison him!
Corbridge shook his head. Youve been away for two years, Marcus. Whats the matter? Didnt find fame and fortune soldiering in the Americas? Managed to get yourself a lame leg instead? Hoped to come back and live off weak-witted old Sir Rodericks fat purseonly to find the purse no longer so fat? What a shame. He turned with mock concern to his rapt audience. Something should be done about our returned war heroes. They should be awarded a better pension, perhaps. We heard about your promotion, Marcuspity it wasnt with a decent regiment, though. Perhaps the beautiful Miss Philippa Fawcett would have revived her interest in you if youd had a little more to offer her on your return.
The other mans eyes blazed. You know damn well why I didnt get in with a fancier regiment, Corbridge. It was because I didnt care to go around oiling palms with false compliments and fistfuls of money that would have kept some of our badly paid foot soldiers in luxury for the rest of their lives.
How noble, breathed Lord Sebastian Corbridge. How infinitely noble of you, Marcus. Of course, your particular family circumstances dont exactly endear you to your superiors, do they?
Someone in the audience laughed jeeringly. Have the man thrown out, Corbridge. Unstable streak in the whole family, if you ask me. Isnt he the fellow whose mother went mad? Mad as a hatter, they say. She actually ran off with one of his fathers grooms
Marcus turned. In the blinking of an eye, so fast that no one there had time to register it, he had whipped out his sword and held it so that its point just nicked the lace ruffles at the throat of the man who had spoken. The mans eyes were suddenly round with fear; his plump face had gone as white as a sheet. After a seconds paralysing silence, Marcus let his sword fall. He turned back to Sebastian, slamming the long blade back into its sheath.
This quarrel is becoming too public for my liking, he said flatly. I dont care to discuss my private affairs, or my family, in front of specimens like these. Let us arrange a duel.
The flash of fear that crossed Lord Sebastians face was quickly concealed. A duel? With an injured man? he queried, looking pointedly at Marcuss leg. My dear cousin, what must you think of me?
Marcus lifted his dark, expressive eyebrows. Do you really want me to explain exactly what I think of you? In words of one syllable, so everyone here understands?
But Lord Sebastian Corbridge did not reply. Instead he was looking furtively over Marcuss shoulder; and Marcus, seeing that look, swung round, his sword once more at the ready, to face several burly-looking footmen who were advancing rapidly towards him with their fists clenched.
Then, suddenly, another figure moved swiftly out from the shadows, knocking Marcuss weapon aside with a deft blow of his arm. A voicecheerful, almost laughingcalled out, Now, Marcus! Time for the disengage, dear boy! Live to fight another day, eh?
And Marcus found himself being hustled, almost pushed, towards the big outer doors, which were kicked open with a crash by his companion as he hurried Marcus down the wide steps into the chilly street.
Once on the pavement Major Marcus Forrester shook himself free and reluctantly sheathed his sword. Hal, he said with a sigh. Youre a good friend, but you should have let me hit him, at least.
Hal Beauchamp, whose compact, expensively dressed frame nevertheless hid considerable physical expertise, relaxed into a smile and handed Marcus the riding whip hed tossed aside earlier. What, and give those beefy minions who were creeping up behind you the chance to beat you black and blue? he objected. Not the best of ideas, Marcus! A strategic retreat is definitely in order, I think, before those painted fops in there combine their scanty brain power and come after us!
Marcus grinned back at his friend. A pursuit? And you reputedly the best swordsman in the regiment? Hardly likely, I think, Hal.
No. Hardly likely. Hal held out his hand warmly for the other to shake. Good to see you back in London, Marcus. Really good. Now, I assume from your attire that you arrived here on horseback?
A hired horse, yesI paid a groom to see to it.
Very well, then, dear fellow; so now I insist you come and share a bottle of claret with me, somewhere more congenial than that hole, and tell me Hals brown eyes gleamed absolutely everything.
Inside the hallowed portals of the club, Lord Sebastian Corbridge, smoothing down his satin frock-coat like a bird preening its badly ruffled feathers, returned to his table and affected nonchalant disdain. But his hands were still trembling, and he was aware that his acquaintances had rather enjoyed the spectacle they had just witnessed. Corbridge was not a popular man in London.
Is he really your cousin, Corbridge? grinned the portly Viscount Lindsay, generally known as Piggy. You kept quiet about that side of the family, dear boy.
Lord Corbridge paled slightly beneath his fashionably applied powder and patches. I have numerous distant cousins, he replied disdainfully. My great-grandfather, you will recall, was the Earl of Stansfield
Oh, we remember all right, replied Viscount Lindsay, sharing a covert sneer with the others seated at their table. You remind us of it nightly, dear fellow.
The Earl, continued Corbridge stiffly, had a variety of offspring. Major Marcus Forrester, whose mother was the only child of the Earls disreputable youngest son, is one of the least significant of them all.
Fellow didnt look insignificant to me, drawled Viscount Lindsay, raising his eyebrows. Fellow looked damned frightening to me, Corbridge, when he had you dangling there like a gasping fish.
The others joined in the laughter, and Corbridge paled again. The armys all hes fit for, he muttered in a low, angry voice. Theres bad blood on that side of the family. He was scarcely out of infancy when his mother fled to Europe with her lover, some lowly serving man. Since then, Marcus Forrester has shown a dangerous instability. I never thought to see him return alive from the war in America.
No, put in Viscount Lindsay rather maliciously. I bet you didnt, Corbridge. Seems as if young Marcus has found out, too, exactly what youve been up to while hes been away with his precious old godfather and that rather splendid estate at Lornings. All in all, its rather damned bad luck for you that hes returned at all, isnt it? Alive and well and primed for action, it seems.
Lord Sebastian Corbridge was silent. But his slender white hand, which glittered with jewelled rings, twisted in some agitation around the stem of his glass.
Outside the sepia clouds still surged menacingly overhead, and the pavements glinted with puddles in the yellow light of the street lamps as Hal and Marcus proceeded on foot towards the Strand. But at least the rain had ceased; and the citizens of London were heading out again for the gaming clubs of St Jamess, or the colourful taverns and theatres beyond Leicester Fields. Hal Beauchampas fair as Marcus was dark, with a slighter build, and an open, sunny countenancewas cheerfully extolling the merits of the dining parlour at the Bulls Head. Theyll set us up with some excellent victuals, Marcus! he promised. The clarets first rate as well, I assure you. And then we could go on somewhere for a decent game of hazard
No! No gaming. Marcuss vivid, handsome face, which had relaxed in the company of his friend, was suddenly serious once more. I dont think Ill ever cast the dice again, Hal.
Hal Beauchamp pulled a droll expression. He was dressed as usual in the most expensive, if discreet of styles; his long greatcoat that swept almost to the ground was exquisitely tailored, and his beaver hat and shining top-boots bore evidence of the tender care of a skilful valet. Oh dear, oh dear me, he sighed. Its the end of the world indeed if Major Marcus Forrester renounces the fine art. What would your devoted soldiers say? Remember the game of hazard we had in camp, just before the raid on Wilmington last year? The enemy were all around, and you were saying, One more throw, gentlemen. Just one more throw. I feel that my luck is in
Marcus laughed, but his eyes were bleak. It hasnt been in lately, Hal.
No. His friends expression softened. I heard about your injury, at the siege of Savannah. Do you have somewhere to stay in London?
Marcus shook his head. Not yet. The army pensions office offered me some tedious post in recruitment with lodgings all in, but I refused. And I havent started looking for anywhere else yet. I just wanted to find Corbridge.
And kill him? So I must assume you were planning on sleeping in Newgate gaol tonight, said Hal lightly as they jostled their way through the crowds that thronged Haymarket. I have a better suggestion. Come and stay with Caroline and me, in Portman Square. Far more comfortable than Newgate, I assure you.
Marcus struggled, then smiled. It was very difficult not to smile when Hal was around. Theyd been at Oxford together, then the army; theyd shared good times and bad. But now they were both out of the war; Hal because his only sister, who had been recently widowed, needed him at home; and Marcus because of a rebels musketball through his thigh.
You are more than kind, said Marcus, turning to face his friend. But your sisterI would be imposing, surely?
Not at all, dear fellow. She always had a soft spot for you. And your injured leg will give her something to fuss over. Hal hesitated. I heard, you know, about your godfather Sir Roderick and the business with Corbridge. It must have come as a blow to you. The loss of your inheritance, the decline in your prospects
Marcus said quietly, The worst of it, Hal, was seeing what it has done to my godfather. This business has all but finished him off.
Hal nodded, frowning in sympathy. Then stay with us, while you see what can be done.
I have no wish whatsoever to be in anyones debt.
My dear fellow, responded Hal swiftly, lets have no talk of debt. Consider our house your home for as long as you wish.
And to ensure there could be no further argument, Hal resumed his steady pace along the Strand, where the candlelit shop windows with their displays of millinery and trinkets glittered enticingly. Carriages clattered by, and sedan-bearers pushed through the crowds, their polite calls of By your leave, sir! swiftly changing to their usual ripe curses if people failed to move out of their way. Marcus hurried to keep up with his friends loping, athletic stride, knowing he shouldnt have ridden so damned hard for the best part of two daysbut what else could he have done other than resolve to take action, any kind of action, once hed seen the state his gentle, kindly godfather was in?
Sir Roderick Delancey had been a friend and neighbour for as long as Marcus could remember to the Forrester family on their rather ramshackle Gloucestershire estate, and when Marcuss mother had run off, amidst such disgrace that her husband, a broken and impoverished man, died soon after, Roderick took responsibility for his godson Marcus without hesitation. Not possessing any children himself, Sir Roderick had paid for Marcuss schooling; and in the vacations Marcus spent long weeks at his godfathers beautiful country mansion, which he came to regard as his home, his own home having to be sold to cover his fathers debts.
After Oxford, when Marcus set his heart on joining the army, Sir Roderick had offered to buy him a commission in one of the top cavalry units; but Marcus, who had his own kind of pride, refused, and became a captain in a line regiment. He was swiftly promoted, and when his regiment was sent to America to fight under Cornwallis, Sir Roderick continued to write regularly to his godsonbut last autumn the letters had stopped.
And now Marcus knew why.
Some day, Marcus had resolved, he would return to active service. But not yet. He had another battle to fight first, on Sir Roderick Delanceys behalf.
At the corner of Half Moon Alley, a crowd had gathered around a couple of street entertainers who, using a stretch of low wall as their table, were tempting passers-by to bet on which of three upturned cups covered a coin. The first of the pair, a ragged-looking man with a wooden leg, was dextrously switching the cups to allow onlookers tantalising glimpses of the bright coin, while his accomplice, a slim youth wearing a long coat and a cap rather too big for him, was strolling around and drumming up trade in a light, cheerful voice. Roll up, roll up, ladies and gennelmen! Put your penny down, guess which cup hides the sixpenceits easy, see?and win it for yourself! Yes, win a whole, shiny sixpence! Roll up, roll up
Then the lively youth broke off, because his sharp eyes had observed what Marcus now sawa fat member of the Watch huffing and panting towards the pair with his stick raised, and two of his companions coming up behind. Haul them two coves in! the watchman roared. Theyre thieves and scoundrels, the pair of em! The man with the peg-leg had his coin and his little cups thrust deep in his pockets in no time; tucking his wooden limb under his arm, he raced away on two exceedingly sound legs, while, doubtless by prior arrangement, his young companion took off in the opposite direction towards Hal and Marcus, twisting and turning nimbly through the crowds that thronged the pavement. Marcus watched, interested and impressed, as the lad, though caught briefly by the wrist by one of the Charleys, kicked his way free and ran on boldly, his ragged coat flying and his cap crammed low over his head. As he drew nearer, Marcus glimpsed emerald green eyes glinting above an uptilted nose, and a merry mouth curled in scornuntil the lad realised some more watchmen were hurrying up from the other end of the street, thus cutting off his escape.
Now, Marcus Forrester could never understand why a pair like thisup to no real harm, as far as he could seeshould arouse the full ire of the law, when murder and mayhem went on without interruption in some of the hellish back streets where the Watch were afraid to even set foot. Lets even the odds, he murmured to Hal. And just as the lad was hesitating, no escape in sight, Marcus reached out, grabbed him by the armLet go of me, you dratted coneyjack! was his only thanksand thrust the slim fugitive, whose head barely came up to his shoulder, behind his back into a dark doorway. More colourful protests came flowing in abundance from that clear, expressive voice; but Marcus ordered through gritted teeth, Im trying to help, you young fool. Stay there. And shut up. Hal, brown eyes a-twinkling, completed their bodily barricade of the lads hiding place; then the pair of them, arms folded, pretended to look on as if faintly bored, while the breathless old watchmenthe Charleyselbowed their way through the swirling London crowd, up and down the street, looking in vain for their quarry. Wheres that there lad? one of them bellowed. Old Peg-legs helper? Up to no good, im and all his kind, should be anged the lot of themwhich way did e go?
Marcus cast a swift glance back into the doorway, where the youth, having decided rather sensibly to cooperate, was now crouching silently behind him and Hal. Marcus saw again, with a kind of startlement, that pair of wide, incredibly green eyes taking everything in; and just at that moment the young fugitive, sensing his gaze, looked up at him andgrinned.
No fear. No fear at all, in that smooth young faceMarcus frowned, then quickly switched his attention back to the watchmen, who were shaking their heads, swearing volubly and stamping off down the Strand. Marcus looked back into the doorway and nodded. All clear now. Off you go. The lad, emerging blithely from behind the long folds of Marcuss riding coat, whispered, My thanks, and quickly vanished into the crowds.
Hal lifted one querying, humorous eyebrow at his friend. Still on the side of the underdog, I see?
Most definitely, declared Marcus. Why the hue and cry? They were only a couple of street entertainers. But even as he dismissed them both, he was aware that the younger one had puzzled him considerably. My thanks That voice, if you ignored the insults, had been expressive and clear. No hint of low-life in those parting words. He shook his head, swiftly banishing that bright, green-eyed gaze from his mind. On to business, Hal. Where are we heading after weve eaten?
I thought wed go to a new place in Suffolk Street, called the Angel, explained Hal. Its discreet, private, and has some of the best gaming in town. Oh, yes. I know he raised a finger to silence Marcuss protests youre never going to gamble again. But let me just say this. You want to get your revenge on the loathsome Corbridge, for ruining your godfather. Am I right?
You are, replied Marcus, his mood grim once more.
Then remember your army training, dear boy. Go to the kind of haunts your enemy would frequent. Probe his weaknesses. And Corbridges are?
Youve got all night to listen? Well, apart from his general obnoxiousness, his weaknesses, from what I remember, are spending and gambling. And beautiful women, with rather doubtful reputations
Especially young fillies with an eye for the gaming table, broke in Hal. Lady Franklin, Cecilia Connolly, and that ravishing blonde known as La Fanciola from the Opera Housethey are all exquisitely golden-haired, all greedy for money by fair means or foul, and hes dallied with them all! So listen, its quite simple. What you must do is find another of the same kindyoung, accomplished, preferably with guinea-gold curlspersuade her to entice him to the card tables at some private establishmentand use her to get back all your godfathers money off Corbridge!
Marcus laughed, shaking his head. Thats meant to be simple? Ive got a better idea. Why dont I just run him through? It would be a damn sight easier. His hand moved instinctively to his pocket, to check that he had enough money for the night ahead. And then he went very still. My wallet, he breathed. Its gone.
Hals eyes widened. Are you sure? You might have left it somewhere, or dropped it in the street, perhaps
Oh, no. Marcus knew he hadnt dropped it. Suddenly he remembered the young fugitive with the mocking green eyes. He remembered, too late, the light hand that he felt brushing his coat as the lad departed. He turned to Hal and said flatly, If youre still set on a game tonight, youll have to lend me the stake. Until I get to my bankers in the morning, Ive not a penny to my name. That young wretch we helped back there has repaid me by picking my pocket. And, Marcus vowed, if he ever caught the lad, he would give his backside a beating hed never forget
Hal frowned. The ungrateful rogue! Well, of course Ill lend you something, Marcus. Who knows? Tonight at the Angel your luck might change for the better!
I certainly hope so, replied Marcus with feeling. But his bleak eyes did not echo that smile. And Hal, who had been intending to ask Marcus if he had seen Philippa yet, decided that perhaps now was not the best time to broach that rather tricky subject.
Chapter Two
The street trickster whom Marcus was cursing so roundly was meanwhile twisting and turning knowingly through the assortment of narrow alleyways behind Maiden Lane before finally sidling into the shadows of an empty doorway and listening hard.
Nothing. No pursuers. No Charleys. With a sigh of relief the young thief sauntered off northwards whistling The Bold Ploughboy, cap pulled down low over forehead, hands thrust deep into shabby greatcoat; because, although it had stopped raining, the February night was still damp and cold. One hand encountered a leather wallet, and those bright green eyes were troubled, just for a moment, at the memory of its owner; then the youngster strolled onwards. Doubtless the dark-haired swell was rich enough not to miss it over-much.
Carefully avoiding the clusters of hard-drinking men who gathered around Bob Derrys Cider Cellar, the pickpocket, now munching on an apple filched earlier from a fruit stall, chose a secret way through the warren of courtyards that lay behind Drury Lane; then at last came to a halt, gazing up to where a flickering lantern illuminated a faded inn sign. This was the Blue Bell tavern: a pretty name for a low-life inn run by a steel-tongued landlady called Moll. Frowning briefly at the thought of Moll, the youth straightened his shabby coat and marched through the crowded, smoky taproom to push open a small side door into a private parlour, occupied only by a group of men clustered intently round a card game. The sudden draught from the door made the tallow candles flicker. Three of the players leapt to their feet, their hands clutching their cards. Then the fourth one, a gangly young fellow with rather startling tufts of red hair, grinned broadly. No cause for alarm, lads! Its just our Tassie, bin up to her usual tricks, no doubt.
The men sat down again. Tassie closed the door with a deft kick, pulled off her cap and threw it defiantly on the table as her long golden hair tumbled around her shoulders. What do you mean, tis only me? she challenged. Havent you missed me, all of you? No reply. Sighing a little, she let her keen eyes rove over the well-worn cards splayed out on the table. Fie, Georgie Jay, if tis whist youre playing, then I hope you remembered to keep the guard on your pictures, as I told you last night!
Then the girl sat among the men, quite at ease, as the sturdily built, black-haired man in his thirties whom shed addressed as Georgie Jay, looked frowning at his cards. Gods blood, but youre right, Tassie, he said.
Course shes right, said the red-haired lad, still gazing admiringly at the newcomer. Theres no one to beat our Tassie at cards.
Or dice, grinned Georgie Jay. He patted the girls shoulder and turned back to the game.
The girl let her fair brow pucker a little. Werent youworried about me, Georgie?
Why, lass? Should we have been?
She shrugged. Not really. I helped the cups-and-sixpence man up on the Strand.
Old Peg-leg? Did you make much?
Didnt get the chance. We were chased off by the Charleys.
Good job you can run fast, then.
Indeed. Tassie stretched out her legs in their over-large boots and leaned back in her chair, her hands in her pockets, secretly a little upset that they werent more troubled by her encounter with the Watch. She decided to say nothing about the dark-haired man and his wallet, though at one time shed have told Georgie Jay everything, for he was the undisputed leader of this motley crew of travellers, and had been like a father to her ever since hed found her eight years ago, alone on a country lane. We work when we can, hed told her, and when we cantfor times are hard for poor folks like uswhy, then, we take a little from those who have enough and to spare! Yes, Georgie Jay had been her saviour and protector, and she would always be grateful to him. But things had changed. Oh, how they had changed.
Moll, the buxom landlady, had just come into the room to see what was going on, Then she spotted Tassie, and scowled. Our Tassies had a run-in with the Watch, Moll! Georgie Jay told her.
Lords sake, said Moll, what a fuss you all do make of that girl. Taint natural, a grown lass like her trailing round with you all.
Tassie met Molls glare with stony dislike, and began to get to her feet, but Georgie reached out to forestall her. Tassies one of us, Moll. Bring the girl some food, will you? You know shell be ready for her supper.
Tassie was; but she fought down the hunger pangs gnawing at her ribs. My thanks, but Im not hungry. Most certainly not for anything Moll dished out.
She picked up her cap, ready to leave; but just at that moment Georgie Jay exclaimed, Tassie! Now, what in the name of wonder is that? He was pointing at the ugly bruising on her wrist, where the Watch man had grabbed her.
Its nothing. Nothing at all. She stepped quickly back, shaking down her sleeve.
So you were in danger! Look, Tass, perhaps it really is time you stopped all your trickery out on the streets
Oh, fiddlesticks, Georgie, she said airily, you all have close shaves with the Watch every now and then, dont you? Tonight was no different!
But Georgie Jay was sighing as he gazed at Tassies defiant face beneath her tumbling curls that glowed a fierce gold in the flickering candlelight. Youre a lass, Tassie, he said regretfully. Its as simple as that. Things just cant go on the same. Why, youre nigh as tall as young Lem! How old are you nowfifteen, sixteen?
Tassie shrugged her shoulders, guessing now was not the best of times to tell him she was seventeen. How should I know how old I am? Do you really think anyone used to celebrate my birthday? No, indeed. Painful memories flashed through her mind. The big old house where shed spent her early childhood. The long days spent locked in her room, learning her letters or struggling over hateful stitching with frozen fingers. The endless fear of punishment. Shed run because she felt that nothing, anywhere, could be worse.
She realised now that shed been more than lucky to be found by good-hearted Georgie Jay, who still lived by the honourable code of the travelling folk, and insisted that his followers did the same. Hed stoutly declared that Tassie had a place with them for ever; but even he, it seemed, was now having his doubts. And so, perhaps, was she.
All the same, he was saying now, we need to have a talk, lass.
Tassie gazed at him steadily. Are you trying to tell me that you dont want me with you any more?
Georgie Jay looked unhappy. Weve been doin a bit of thinkin and Molls got a grand idea that might suit you just fine!
Tassies eyes flashed warningly as she looked at the older woman. Oh, has she now?
Molls got a brother, Georgie pressed on. He and his wife, theyve got a small farmKent way, isnt it, Moll?and they could do with some help around the place
Tassie turned on Moll incredulously. You think that Id go as a servant to your brother? The one you were going on about the other night, saying he was a miserable skinflint and a tyrant?
Moll coloured and looked angry. Theres a good opportunity for you there, young madam, and dont you scoff at it!
Ill scoff at it all right, Tassie breathed. Youd better think again, Moll, if you want to find your brother aa cheap skivvy. And, holding her head high, she marched to the door that led to the stairs, and closed it with a resounding bang behind her.
Once in the inner hallway, though, Tassie stopped, fighting to control the emotions that were now shaking her body. Despite her words of bold defiance, there was a huge lump in her throat, and her heart ached sorely. Shed known for some time that things couldnt go on as they were. But if Georgie Jay and his comrades didnt want her, she had no one. No one.
She heard them all getting up. One by one the othersLemuel, Billy, and kind old Matt who played the fiddle at country fairs, whod all been her friends for yearstraipsed out through the other door to the taproom to have their meal, until only Moll and Georgie were left in there. Tassie bit her lip. Moll and Georgie. Usually Georgie Jay and his friends kept pretty much on the move, taking rooms at various inns or lodging houses depending on the work they found. But this winter theyd spent all of the last two months at the Blue Bellbecause Georgie Jay had taken to sharing landlady Molls room, and Molls bed. And now Tassie could tell by the sound of clacking little heels on the flagstones that Moll had moved towards the jar of gin that she kept for herself on a high shelf near the door. Georgie Jay must have followed her; he was saying, in a low voice so that Tassie could only just hear, I did warn you she wouldnt like the idea, Moll.
Such a fuss about a silly girl, Moll snapped back. Tassie heard the rattle of gin jar against beaker; and could just picture Moll drinking it down in one greedy swallow. All right, then. Ill not interfere! But youll have to think of somethin for her, Georgie Jay. Sakes alive, you must have seen the way men are starting to look at her! Lemuel worships the ground she walks on, and that big simpleton Billy watches her all the time. Shes becomin a real pretty piece, and therell be trouble soon if you dont look out
Tassie could stand to hear no more. Horrified to find that her eyes were smarting with tears, she almost ran up the rickety staircase to her tiny attic room, where she was greeted by the loud squawking of a brightly coloured parrot gazing at her from its perch by the window. Georgie Jay had bought Edward for her seven years ago in Dorchester market, and now she angrily dashed away her tears with the back of her hand and stroked the birds beautifully-crested head, whispering, How can Georgie Jay be so taken in by thatthat strumpet, Edward? Molls fat, and she paints her face, and she pickles herself in gin!
Edward cocked his beady eye at her. Whos a pretty girl, then? Tassie almost smiled. But she couldnt ignore the fact that what Moll had said was right. Tassie couldnt go on pretending to be what she was not for much longer. If only I were a boy! she went on in anguish, jumping up to pace the little room while at the same time trying to resist the temptation to chew her fingernails, something she always did when she was distressed. Edward just put his head on one side, his bright eyes blinking, and crunched steadily on the remains of a crust. Tassie drew a deep breath, then flung her big coat on the bed.
Soon after she had joined Georgie Jays band, shed taken to dressing like a lad because it was easier, and when her breasts had started to swell shed worn loose shirts buttoned to the neck and hoped no one would notice. When her monthly courses began, a kindly serving girl at the farm where they were working came to her rescue and gave her some strips of linen to use, and into the bargain gave her an earthy lecture on how men were fiery creatures, and likely to be aroused beyond reason by the presence of a young, pretty maid. So Tassie tied up her bright golden hair with a piece of twine and pushed it under a cap; as she grew she continued to dress in loose breeches and boots and a rough cambric jacket several sizes too big for her that concealed her swelling curves; and season after season she tramped the dusty roads in the cheery company of Georgie Jay and his band, never complaining of weariness, always hoping that things would remain the same, because in truth she had no other life to turn to.
But she knew, in her heart of hearts, that things were changing fast. Moll had spotted the trouble with Billy already.
Billy was big and strong, but he was simple-minded. His family had been turned out of their cottage when the local landowner wanted to pull it down to make more space for sheep, and Billy had attached himself to the company like a faithful dog, invaluable if there was any kind of hard physical work. Tassie had always felt quite safe with him, as she did with all the others in their little band. But a couple of weeks ago, a little after midnight, Billy had knocked at the door of Tassies bedroom. Tass, he called out. Let me in, will you? I want ter tell you somethin.
Shed opened the door, and instantly smelled that hed been drinking. Big Billy, with his thatch of wiry black hair, had always been a little over-fond of his ale. So she told him that she would talk to him in the morning; but hed muttered something and a strange, hot look had spread across his face as he gazed at Tassie, with her hair loose past her shoulders, and dressed only in her thin cotton nightshirt.
Hed tried to kiss her then, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her close. Tassie struggled desperately to push him away, but Billy wrapped one arm around her waist, trapping her, while with the other hand he began to fumble at her breasts. She could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against his breeches while his hot lips smothered her mouth; and Tassie, gasping, twisted violently and used her knee, very hard, in the place where she knew it would hurt him the most. Billy had whimpered with shock and gone limping off to his room. Tassie hoped fervently that the hateful episode had vanished into the shadows of Billys slow mind; certainly hed not troubled her again in that way, and she didnt think he would. But it had been an unpleasant reminder that Molls warnings were only too true.
And now, they thought they could just pack her off to Molls brother in the country! Oh, never. Suddenly she remembered the wallet shed stolen from the gent in Half Moon Alley. Pulling herself up on the dingy little bed, she sat cross-legged in her boots and buckskin breeches and her mans shirt, and tossed back her long blonde curls from her face. Then she eased the slim leather wallet from her hip pocket; but her heart sank again, for there wasnt much in it. A few coins, amounting to little more than two guineas, and a pencilled note, folded up. The coins she put carefully into a little locked box hidden beneath her bed; the note she casually unfolded, preparing to crumple it and toss it aside. But then her eyes opened wide as a curling lock of chestnut hair tied up in a pretty blue ribbon fell on to the bed. Tassie read the note avidly. For my darling Marcus. A little memento. All my love for ever, Philippa.
Well! So her noble rescuerMarcuswas in love! Tassie instantly held it closer. Philippas handwriting was dainty, with lots of curly flourishes, quite the opposite of Tassies bold, clear hand; Tassie would be prepared to wager that Philippa didnt chew her nails as she did, or fuzz the cards at whist, or swear like a trooper when the occasion arose. A prim parlour-miss indeed; the writing was a little faded, but the sheet was still scented with the remnants of some exotic and no doubt expensive floral perfume, which made both Tassie and Edward sneeze. Tassie went over to the window, preparing to hurl the lock of hair and the note out into the darkness. All my love for ever.
Just for a moment, she paused. Just for a moment she wondered what it must be like, to love a man like that; to be loved, in return. Then she pushed the window open and tossed out the lock of chestnut hair and the note into the courtyard, to join the heaps of stinking rubbish down there. Fancy carrying that around with him, Edward. She shook her head. Darling Marcus. A little memento
Edward squawked appreciatively and repeated, Darling Marcus! Darling Marcus! Tassie hesitated again; then she pressed her lips together and hurled the wallet through the window as well.
The noise of singing and laughter came up from the tavern below. She went to put more coals on the slumbering fire, and caught sight of her face in the cracked mirror over the hearth. A pale, haunted face, with shadowed green eyes, and clouds of golden curls tumbling to her shoulders. Tassie, the street thief. Tassie the trickster. Who was she really? Why was she all alone, forced to run long ago from a place of hateful cruelty?
She went slowly to count up the coins in her money box, and the old memories came crowding in. The great old house, miles from anywhere. Well-bred, hateful voices, snarling over her: This brats trouble, William, I tell you! Nothing but trouble, and some day shes going to find out the truth
Thoughtfully, Tassie put her money box away and picked up her much-worn pack of cards from beside Edwards perch. Outside she heard the nightwatchman call the hour, Ten oclock and alls well..
No. No. All was most decidedly not well. Sitting cross-legged on her little bed, she began by the light of the flickering candle to practise one of the tricks shed persuaded old Peg-leg to teach her in return for her help today. The time had come, as shed always known it would, for her to make her own plansbefore somebody else tried to make them for her.
She might, perhaps, have felt even more trepidation had she realised just how ardently Major Marcus Forrester was thinking thoughts of revenge against the ungrateful wretch whod removed his wallet. He and Hal were at that moment dining at a fashionable chop-house just off the Piazza, where Hal, guessing that his friends forlorn financial prospects must be lowering his spirits, talked to him encouragingly of the money that could be made by investing in cotton and shipping. Marcus listened, pretending to take an interest. Then Hal, taking the plunge, started to tell Marcus that his sister Caroline had recently met Miss Philippa Fawcett out walking in the park, and that she was looking unusually lovely, and was there any chance of Marcus calling on her; at which Marcus shook his head swiftly and ordered, Talk of something else, Hal. Anything else.
And as Hal recounted inconsequential gossip, Marcuss thoughts drifted far away to Lornings, the beautiful estate in the Gloucestershire countryside that belonged to his godfather, Sir Roderick Delancey. The place Marcus had always thought of as his home. As soon as Marcus, freshly returned to London just over a week ago after a storm-racked Atlantic voyage, had heard the news about Sir Roderick, hed set out to see him. Hed found him, not at the great hall itselfwhich to Marcuss dismay looked totally abandonedbut in the much smaller Dower House, which lay close by.
Its all my own fault, Sir Roderick had replied simply. He seemed to have aged terribly in the two years of Marcuss absence. Dear boy, what a homecoming for you.
Marcus had gone quickly over to his godfather and put his strong hand on his shoulder. It wasnt your fault. My cousin Corbridge is a lying, deceiving toad.
And I should have known it! But Id got so badly in debt, you see, thanks to the company Sebastian led me into; and only Sebastian seemed to know the way out of it
By taking you to one gaming house after another?
He assured me I could not help but win, Marcus! But I lost so heavily, night after night. Corbridge saved meat least I thought he didby promising he would see to my bills until September of this year. But in return and Sir Roderick sighed heavily I had to sign a letter promising him the entire Lornings estate as security.
Marcus listened, tense-faced. But surely your debts, however great they are, arent equivalent to the value of Lornings?
Sir Roderick hung his head. Believe me, theyre bad enough. If Sebastian hadnt taken on the bills, I would have had to put myself in the hands of moneylenders; and then, you know, what with the interest they demand, my debts would have doubled and trebled, until even the sale of the estate wouldnt have paid them off. I had no choice, Marcus. Im so sorry. Lornings was supposed to be yours. I shall never forgive myself!
Marcus shook his head vehemently. I dont give a fig for my inheritance. Youve given me support and encouragement all my lifewhat more could I ask? But I cant forgive Corbridge for forcing you out of your rightful home. And I swear to God Ill make him pay.
Lornings is still mine for the moment, Sir Roderick had said, with a gentleness that tore at Marcuss heart. Until the autumn, that is. ButI cannot afford to maintain the Hall now, so it seems best to live here, in the Dower House.
Marcus was silent, thinking. Then he said suddenly, This last gaming house Corbridge took you to. Where you lost everything. Was it some backstreet den?
It was disreputable, certainly. But if youre thinking of contesting the letter that I signed, then dont trouble yourself, because Corbridge had it legally drawn up and witnessed. He looked around him rather helplessly. Im comfortable here, really I am. And Ive still got some land and livestockIve always fancied trying my hand properly at farming
At your age? thought Marcus sadly. His godfather, who was sixty-three, suffered from arthritis. He had two ageing retainers, husband and wife, who had stayed loyally with him for a pittance, and a capable man called Daniels who ran the small farm. Otherwise he was on his own, with hardly any resources now that his fortune was so badly compromised.
Ill come and help you, promised Marcus. Well get the land to rights again, believe me. But first his steely eyes narrowed Ive got Corbridge to deal with.
Sir Roderick was watching him with loving but anxious eyes. Please dont do anything foolish, my dear boy! I know how impetuous you can be!
And Marcus had smiled grimly as he replied, Impetuous? Dont you worry. I shall consider every actionextremely carefully.
But so far, concluded Marcus, so far his plans had not gone well. Hed confronted Corbridge earlier tonight in the white heat of his rage, and been forced, publicly, to retreatthen hed had his wallet stolen. Not the best of starts.
Hal was calling for the bill. Marcus hated not being able to pay for himself, but Hal brushed his objections aside. If youre staying with us as you promised, then youll have plenty of opportunities to repay me when youre ready. Caro will love having you, and we might even persuade her to host one or two small gatherings; you could invite anyone you liked
Marcus interrupted. If youre thinking of Philippa again, then I must tell you I dont think Ill be inviting her anywhere. You see, she knows that my inheritance has gone.
Marcus, I dont believe
Marcus topped up their glasses. Actually, I think she knew before I did. His voice was lightly casual, but Hal saw that his friends expression was bleak. No doubt her doting parents found out and told her. I called on her just before I set off to see Sir Roderick. Oh, it was all very civilised; Philippa talked of how we both needed some time to reconsider our rash youthful commitment, and her foolish mother hovered by her side all the time, looking terrified in case I should try to change Philippas mind. I didnt, of course.
Hal frowned as he absently counted out the coins for the bill. He knew that Philippas parents, the businessman Sir John Fawcett and his wife, lived, when not in town, on a moderately prosperous estate in Gloucestershire that bordered Lornings to the south. Happily willing to overlook Marcuss slightly dubious parentage in view of his being the great-grandson of the Earl of Stansfield and his expectation of Sir Rodericks substantial estate, the ambitious father and vain, silly mother had openly encouraged the friendship that had grown up between their daughter and Marcus. Even Marcuss long absence in the American wars had not dulled everyones belief that the two of them would marry.
But Sir Rodericks catastrophic change of fortune had altered all that, and now Philippa was doing her Season in London, intent on wealthier prospects. Hal felt deeply angry for his friend, who had come back from two years of brave service to his country to be faced with calculated rejection. But of course Hal knew that Marcus didnt want his, or anybodys, sympathy.
Instead, Hal leaned forwards, and poured out the last of the wine. Time to re-plan tactics, dear boy, he said briskly. Plenty more where she came from.
Were there? Marcus had been remembering a summers day, just before he had set sail for the American war two years ago. He and Philippa had ridden out along the Gloucestershire lanes, unchaperonedPhilippa had laughingly escaped from her groomand on a grassy bank by a secluded stream Philippa had allowed Marcus to kiss her and promised him that she would wait for him for ever
Hal was still talking. Capitalise your assets, Marcus, he was pronouncing gleefully, and get your revenge on Corbridge. Remember gambling is his fatal flaw!
Revenge on Corbridge indeed. Marcus echoed Hals toast at last, and knocked back the last of the claret. Talking of gambling, Haldidnt you mention a gaming house called the Angel?
It was eleven oclock, and the night was just beginning.
Chapter Three
Got it! Tassie was still sitting cross-legged on her bed in the light of a tallow candle, so utterly absorbed in her task of getting all the hearts to the bottom of the pack that at first she didnt hear the quiet knock at her door. Then it came again, and she tensed, afraid that it might be Billy. But, no, it was Lemuels voice that she heard, calling out quietly, Tassie. Tassie, are you in there? I was just wonderin if Edwards all right, seeing as I was lookin after him for you
Quickly Tassie scrambled off the bed, pushing her loose hair back from her face and tucking her big shirt into her slim buckskin breeches. Lemuel was a bit sweet on her, she knew, but she trusted him to keep his distance. She opened the door wide. Come in, Lemuel, do. Yes, Edwards fine. Moll hasnt poisoned himyet. My thanks for keeping an eye on him.
Darling Marcus! Darling Marcus! cackled Edward, pleased with his new-found phrase.
Marcus? Lemuel stood in the middle of the room, frowning in puzzlement.
Tassie laughed and coloured a little. Oh, its just some nonsense hes picked up. She tapped Edwards perch lightly. Be quiet now, Edward, do.
Lemuel nodded, his face expressing eager shyness. And you, Tass? Are you all right? Afterafter
She shrugged, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her breeches. After hearing that Moll wants to get rid of me, you mean? Aye, Lemuel, Im all right. Shell not get the better of me, never fear.
Lemuel grinned at her approvingly, then his eyes fell on the pack of cards. You been practising your tricks then, Tass? Theres none of us can beat you at cards, is there?
No one, said Tassie earnestly, because it was true. She could even beat Georgie Jay, without him realising exactly which trick she was up tothe Kingston Bridge cheat, or shaving the cards, or even the difficult sauter la coupe. Shed mastered them all
And then, suddenly, she realised what she had to do next. It was so blindingly obvious that she almost laughed aloud. Her green eyes gleaming, she gestured Lemuel to the battered chair at the foot of the bed. Sit down, Lemuel, she said encouragingly. I want to talk to you.
To me? His freckled face lit up.
Yes, Lemuel. She perched on the edge of her bed again and gazed at him thoughtfully as he lowered his gangly frame into the chair facing her. Last night, she went on, I heard you talking with the others about a private gaming parlour thats just opened up in town. You were saying that everyone of fashionall the swellsare crowding into it. And I heard Georgie Jay tell how someone lost five hundred guineas at basset therein just one evening.
Lemuels perplexed brow cleared a little. Oh, the Angel, you mean? Aye, Georgie Jay was talking of us dressin in our smart togs and goin along there some time. Though its a bit risky, cos the place hasnt got a full gaming licence, you see. That means it could be raided by the Horneys, any time.
Tassie nodded, her chin resting in her hand. Mmm. So it was an illegal gaming den, patronised by the fashionable and the richAlready her pulse was speeding up in anticipation. I see. And what else do they play there, Lemuel, beside basset?
Oh, the usual. Faro, vingt-et-un, piquetyou know, Tass, all those fancy French games! Apparently its full to busting every evening. Attracts everyone, from the highest blue-bloods towell, to
People like us? slid in Tassie gently.
Aye! Though I told Georgie Jay I thought wed be a bit out of our depth, seein as how the stakes are so high. And, like I said, it could be raided any time.
So all the more reason, said Tassie thoughtfully, to go as soon as possible. She smiled at him. Liketonight.
Tonight? Lemuel shook his head. Oh, no, Georgie Jays far too busy. Hes promised Moll hell move her some barrels of ale up from the cellar.
I wasnt thinking of Georgie Jay, whispered Tassie sweetly, leaning forwards from her perch at the edge of the bed. I was thinking about you and me, Lem dear.
He gaped. We cant, Tassie! Wed never get in! And weve not the stakes
I have, she responded calmly. She patted the little money box at her side. And of course well get in. Ladies are admitted, arent they?
Why, yes, stuttered Lemuel. They say the ladies of quality think it fine sport to go along without their husbands knowin, and play in secret. But youre
But Im what, Lem? Tassie stood up and gracefully pirouetted around his chair. I shall dress up like a fine lady, and you can be my escort. And I shall win more money than youve ever seen before, and Ill pay you your share, if you do exactly as I say!
Lemuel was still open-mouthed. But, Tassie, we cant just walk into a place like that and start fleecing them high-up swells.
She broke off her pirouetting to declare, Youre just scared, Lemuel, thats your trouble.
He jumped to his feet at that, burning with hurt pride. I aint scared of nothing! But its too risky for you, girl! Therell be all sorts lurking there amongst the gentrycheats, rakes, whoremongersbad company, Tass!
She gazed at him, her hands on her slender hips, her green eyes gleaming. Then come with me to protect me. If you wont comewhy, then, Ill just have to go on my own. Wont I?
Very well, then! Ill go with you! But if Georgie Jay finds out
And why should he find out, unless you tell him?
Lemuel let out a low moan of defeat.
Already Tassie had worked out that all she needed to do was borrow one of Molls gowns, and pile up her hair in the foolish way all the ladies of fashion did. Dear Lemuel, she grinned, I knew youd agree. Give me twenty minutes to prepare myself, would you? And you must put on your best brown suit, and polish your shoes. Not a word of this to anyone else, mind! She held the door open for Lemuel and he stumbled out, looking rather stunned. She started humming The Bold Ploughboy, then broke off to call after him, No ale, now, to fuddle your wits. Were in for a lively night, you and I!
It was an hour later. The Angel was crowded; and Marcus was uneasy, because it was becoming apparent to him that his good friend Hal was being systematically cheated. How, exactly, he could not say. Hal, playing piquet, had easily won the first game, and the second also. His female opponent appeared almost hesitant, pausing over her discards and frowning like a Johnny Raw.
But the third game she won in six quick hands, a look of unwavering concentration on her face.
From then on, the usually unflappable Hal began to look flustered. Marcus knew that his friend was no mean player, but his female opponent never seemed to put a foot wrong. Marcus himself had stopped playing at the faro table some while ago, because he was unwilling to risk any more of the stake that Hal had lent him; and now he drew closer to study the girls face, because there was something about her that puzzled him. Of course there were plenty of women amongst the men up here in the candlelit, luxuriously furnished back room of the Angel. Some of them were ladies of high rank out for a secret adventure without their husbands, though others were scarcely better than women of the streets. Was this one a Cyprian?
Whatever part she was playing, she certainly played it demurely, keeping her head lowered and speaking at all times in a cool and alluring voice. When she looked up to smile at Hal, Marcus saw that her face was sweetly heart-shaped, and dominated by huge green eyes that drew his gaze time and time again. And her hair was glorious: a rich cluster of golden curls piled in artful disarray, with just a few stray locks trailing down around the slender column of her neck in a way guaranteed to make most men dream of kissing her there
But she wore far too much rouge and lip paint, and as for her gownHer gown was a hideous contraption, made of some reddish-brown fabric in the style of years ago; it was too large for her slender figure, and the shabby lace ruffles at her wrists were yellow with age. Who was she? Who had brought her here?
At that very moment, she looked up at Hal and said, in her gentle voice, Tis my game, sir, I believe. But no credit to me; I rather think fortune smiled on me.
The somewhat bemused Hal put a brave face on it. Nonsense. You were by far the better player, maam! Gallantly he pushed his guinea rouleaux across the table to her. Will you honour me with another game?
The young woman hesitated before saying, Very well, then. Just one more.
One more is probably all I can afford, said Hal ruefully, and his opponent laughed, a pleasing, merry sound that to Marcus was strangely familiar, though he was damned if he could place it. Surely he would remember a girl like that if hed met her before! Her face was almostbeautiful, and yet her clothes, and her lip paint, were ridiculousMarcus looked round. All in all there must be fifty or sixty people crowded in here, and every table had its punters and watchers, all eyeing every turn of the cards, every cut and deal. Hals table was in a corner of the room, and quite a few of the usual gamesters had gathered round, their greedy eyes devouring the golden-haired girl as she began to deal.
Then Marcus saw that somebody else a few yards away was also watching her closely; a nervous long-limbed young fellow in a homespun suit too tight for him, with shockingly cut red hair. Here was her accomplice, thought Marcus scornfully, ready to safeguard the girls winnings and perhaps sell her on for the night! He frowned. Yet her clothes, her entire manner, were just not right for a whore, though God knew shed tried her best, with that face paint.
Marcus again found his memory stirring tantalisingly. Then he saw something. She was spreading her cards in her hand in an attempt to study them, her green eyes wide and her brows drawn together in apparent puzzlement. Her fingernails looked as if she made a habit of chewing them; her painted lips were moving in what appeared to be a na?ve endeavour to calculate the value of her cards.
But there was nothing na?ve about the way she reached to flick a loose fold of the tawdry lace at her wrist, while at the same time making another very quick, almost imperceptible movement. Shes drawn a card from her sleeve and interchanged it with one from her hand. Marcus swore softly under his breath. Of course it was over in an instant, and Hal hadnt noticed a thing, because he was too busy frowning over his own cards. And now, Marcus saw, those thick eyelashes of hers were fluttering demurely as she displayed her cards to Hal and said, in her sweet voice, I think you will find that Ive spoiled your repique, sir. The game is surely mine.
Hal was soundly routed. His pleasant face twisted ruefully in acknowledgement of his fate as he pushed the last of his guinea rouleaux across the table. How clever of you to have kept the guard! Well done, maam, well done indeed; I wish I had half your skill at the game.
The girl, smiling, was already gathering her winnings together. You must take consolation, sir, in the fact that most certainly I had the luck of the cards tonight.
Luck? questioned Marcus grimly. Luck? He could see that her edgy red-haired companion was already sidling through the crowd towards her. No doubt theyd swiftly exchange for golden guineas the rouleaux shed won and move on to some other backstreet gambling haunt, ready to fleece some other innocentif he, Marcus, were to let them
No time to explain to Hal. As Hal rose, Marcus was there in his place, saying quickly to the girl, Your pardon, maam, but I could not help noticing that you play an intriguing game. Would you care to indulge me before you go?
She looked up swiftly, and just for a moment Marcus could have sworn that there was a flash of somethingwas it fear?in her eyes. But then she said, with only a trace of hesitation, Why, with pleasure, sir.
Hal, surprised, muttered to him, Youll find your match there, Marcus. Shes good.
Perhaps thats the attraction, said Marcus, gazing coldly at the girl, whose heart-shaped face still looked somewhat pale beneath her rouge. Shall we say ten shillings the point?
The girl seemed to catch her breath, and then nodded. Marcus beckoned a groom-porter for a fresh pack, and put some card money on the tray. Looking up, he was in time to catch a scarcely perceptible glance between the girl and her red-headed companion, who had perched nervously on a chair nearby. Marcus smiled grimly to himself and handed the pack to the girl. She won the cut, and opted to discard five of her twelve cards. Once more her pretty face with its delicate tip-tilted nose was a mask of concentration.
For a while the play was even. Marcus went down on the first rubber, though not by much. But then, gradually, the girl began pulling away. He watched her fingers, so quick, so agile as they drew his tokens relentlessly towards her. His keen grey eyes, that on active service had been able to see the gleam of gunmetal in woodland over a mile away, strained to see more. This time she made no move towards her wrist-lace; in fact, sheddeliberately?pushed back her cuff to her elbow. He frowned as he noticed a faint ring of fresh finger-shaped bruises around her slender wrist; someone had been rough with her recently. But then he saw what he had been waiting for. Yes. She was marking the cards, indenting certain corners very, very lightly with the sharp little fingernail of her right hand, in a gesture as swift as the blinking of an eye! Marcus carried on playing and was aware of Hals increasingly puzzled frown as his pile of rouleaux continued their journey to the girls side of the table. The girls companion was watching, too, his unease scarcely hidden.
There it was again. A tiny squeeze of his opponents fingernail as she delicately indented yet another glossy card. Moments later she carefully spread out her winning hand, and her cheeks dimpled in a sweet smile. Four aces and three kings, sir! I think I have you, if you please!
Marcus was very still for a moment. Then he deliberately leaned forwards, and picked up the girls cards at one stroke, breaking all the rules of play. Hal, at his shoulder, gasped aloud. The girls painted smile flickered, but her big green eyes were still wide and innocent. Is aught amiss, sir?
Indeed, there is a slight problemmaam, Marcus replied, equally calmly. You see, I discover in myself an aversion to playing with out-and-out cheats.
He was aware of Hal drawing closer, standing tensely at his side. Of the thin, anxious fellow in brown also edging nearer to the girl, his face tight with strain. The girl was better. In fact, she was amazing. She gazed across the table at Marcus, saying in that same sweet, polite voice, Im afraid I dont quite follow your meaning, sir.
Ha! Dont you, by God! Marcus was gathering up all the cards now, and throwing them on the table, picking up one picture card after another with his strong, lean hands and jabbing at the telltale indentations. Youre trying to tell me you didnt do this? he grated out. And this? And this?
His raised voice was drawing onlookers now. And the girls slender figure seemed frozen to her chair as she realised, at last, that her game was at an end. Marcus reached across the table scornfully for the winnings shed garnered from himself and Hal. And then, suddenly, he heard shouting from the street outside, and the sound of feet clattering up the staircase, and the room was filled with cries of alarm. The Watch! The Watch are upon us! Marcus was on his feet already, but not before the wretched girl had grabbed all the rouleaux back and was elbowing her way through the panic-stricken punters towards the back staircase. Marcus lunged after her, and just managed to catch hold of her arm. Not so fast. Not so fast, you bloody little cheat
She fought him quite ferociously, though no one noticed, because all around them people were pushing and jostling and calling out in panic. This was an illegal gaming parlour, after all, and none of them wanted to spend the night in a magistrates cell. Chairs were being overturned, candles extinguished, cards sent flying to the floor as they all tried to get to the stairs that led to the back exit. The girl continued to struggle wildly, but he hung on all the tighter as they were swept towards the top of that staircase with the rest of the fleeing crowd. He must have hurt her; she let out a low cry; then suddenly her elbow in his diaphragm all but winded him, and she hissed, Take your hands off me, you coneyjack, you!
Coneyjack. Thieftaker. Marcus almost dropped her in his surprise. It was you! he exclaimed. You, running from the Watch earlier this evening in the Strand! I hid you from them, told them youd gone the other wayand thenthen, you ungrateful wretch, you damned well picked my pocket!
The press was even tighter now because they were almost at the top of the darkened staircase. For a moment her huge green eyes glinted vividly in the shadows. With fear? Not for long. Maybe, she breathed, thats cos all you overbearing, arrogant gents deserve to be robbed! Then she twisted violently to get free of his grip and called out wildly, Lemuel, Lemuel, where are you? Come and help me, you great slow-witted fool!
Marcus clung on grimly to his captive as the tide of people in full flight swept past them. Lemuel, he growled. So thats your young friends name, is it? Ill wager hes out on the streets by now, running full tilt for whatever hovel you call home
He got no further, because she brought her knee up and thudded it, hard, against his right thigh.
Marcus swore fluently and almost lost her. He snatched a swift look over his shoulder, but of Hal there was no sign, damn it. He tightened his grip on the wretched girl and dragged her with himshe was still kicking outto the crush at the top of the stairs. He wasnt going to let her go, yet if the minx carried on fighting him like this, theyd end up tumbling down the steps, and being trampled underfoot in the stampede
Nothing else for it. He picked the girl up and put her over his shoulder, then let himself be carried down the rickety staircase by the crowd of nervous punters hustling towards the back doorway, and the safety of the warren of dark alleyways that lay behind Great Suffolk Street. Within seconds the girl had started to pummel his back, but fortunately his coat was of good, thick broadcloth; his strongly muscled shoulders were as impervious to her clenched little fists as were his ears to her colourful threats. All the same, he was glad when at last they got outside and he was able to swing the jade down and set her on her feet. It was starting to rain again. Around them the crowd was melting swiftly away; the girl tried to hop off, too, but he gripped her and pulled her into a nearby doorway. There were no lamps here, and the shadows clustered like sepia pools, far away from the candle-lit windows further along the street. Let go of me! She was still struggling, like a wildcat; he almost shook her into submission and suddenly she went limp in his arms. Another trick? If he did let her go, would she fallor run?
Somewhere in the darkness fiddle music was spilling out from a lively tavern. But out here, as the last of the Angels fleeing patrons vanished into the blackness, they were quite alone. The doorway gave them little shelter from the rain, which was landing on her cheeks, washing away her rouge and starring her thick lashesor were they tears he saw? Her golden hair was tumbling from its pins and falling around her shoulders in damp disarray. What would she try next? He expected more insults, more oaths; but this time the cunning jade adopted a different tactic. In a voice that quivered slightly she begged, Please, please, sir, dont hand me in. Im but a poor orphan; I do swear I meant no harm
Marcus had no difficulty hardening his heart against this plea. Ill let you go with the greatest of pleasure. But not before youve given me back my winnings, and also the wallet you stole from me earlier this evening.
She caught her breath. Wallet? Fie, what wallet? Ive not the faintest notion what you mean! Marcus wanted to shake the girl; he found her cheek incredible; but before he could reply he heard the sound of clattering footsteps as some of the magistrates men came rushing down the back staircase from the gaming hell and out into the alley, furious because so far theyd been deprived of their prey. Until now. Marcus cursed thoroughly under his breath. Leave this to me, he hissed at the girl.
Heres one of em, lads! called a constable, jabbing his finger at Marcus. Now, you was up there, wasnt you, eh? He jerked his head towards the deserted upper storey of the ill-fated gaming club. Reckon we need to ask you some questions, siryoure coming along with us, if you please!
Marcus had absolutely no intention of doing so. Swiftly he drew the rainsoaked girl into his arms and laughed. A gaming hell, constable? Not me. In fact, Ive just been down to a little nunnery in Haymarket, where Mother Bentleyyou know her?rules the roost. And from there I picked out this charming maid for a night of pleasure. A whole guinea, Ive paid, and we were just on our way back to my lodgingsnow, do you think Id have time to waste on cards, or dice?
Even as he spoke he heard the girls sharply indrawn breath as the damned little minx prepared to protest. The constables were muttering and scratching their heads, eyeing him dubiously. One word of denial from the girl, and hed be finished.
Swiftly he pulled her hard against his body and bent his head to kiss her. He could taste the cool rain on her lips, could feel her heart thumping through the wet silk of her gown as she struggled like a trapped bird in his arms. He was surprised, because she smelled so clean, so fresh. Surprised, too, because, as he continued to kiss her for the benefit of those gawping officers of the law, she seemed to freeze in shock, as if she had never been kissed before
But that was impossible! Inevitably, though, he felt the spearing of desire at his loins. Her mouth was strangely temptingcool, tender, tantalisingand as he held her closer, just in case the jade once more tried to run, he felt her slender body tense against him, felt the thrust of her nipples pressing against his chest through her thin bodice in a way that made the blood pound in his veins. Aware of some sudden, unguessedat danger, Marcus relaxed his grip on her and fought down his arousal. She sagged in his arms, just as if hed drawn all the strength from her slender body. Marcus felt a pang of pity for her, then reminded himself grimly that she was a pickpocket, a cheat, and no doubt a whore. He tried not to wonder again whether it was rain or tears that had gathered on her thick lashes.
Youre an excellent actress, minx, he muttered grimly in her ear. But youre not getting out of this one. Two guineas were in that wallet of mine, and two guineas worth of a kiss I shall have, if only to save us both from a night in the magistrates cells. In a louder voice he called out to the watching men, Would you leave us in peace, gents? I told you, I paid dearly for this little lightskirt!
You made a mistake, then, jeered one of the men. Pretty she may be, but she aint got enough flesh on her to keep a man warm for a minute, let alone a night.
Oh, let im alone, muttered another. The fools probably lost all his money gambling. Hell be glad of any doxy he can get. Come onIm cold and wet. The pair of em aint worth the blasted trouble.
Marcus still held on tightly to the girl even though the officers of the watch were disappearing down the street; for he could hear fresh footsteps hurrying towards them from the opposite direction. But it was only Hal pounding up the alleyway, his boots splashing in the river of water that ran down the cobbled streets, his expensive wide-brimmed hat dripping with rain. Marcus, there you are! he exclaimed. I went after the girls accomplice, but he bolted like a ferret. See youve managed to hang on to the girl herself, though. By all thats holy, never seen such a neat gamester in my life!
There was almost admiration in his voice. Marcus pulled the girl back into the shelter of the doorway, out of the rain. So you realised she was cheating you, did you? Just a little late, if I may say so. Any ideas what to do with her? Im wondering if I should hand her over to the magistrates for her own good
That started her up. No! You cant prove a thing! Youll not send me to gaol, youll not! The girl was starting to struggle wildly again, her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath her soaking gown.
Then Hal, scratching his elegant head in some bemusement, said, I agree with the girl; not sure, you know, that the magistrates are the answer, dear boy. But, he added in his droll way, she certainly brings to mind what we were talking of earlier.
What the devil are you talking about?
Hal shrugged defensively. Well, with that hair of hers, and her skill at cards, you could almost dress the girl up and use her to tempt your cousin Sebastian
Corbridge! Marcuss eyes opened wide as he stared at his captive. Her ravishing blonde hair had tumbled from its pins and was glittering in the rain: guinea-gold curls. CorbridgeYes. Yes. The girls an expert at trickery. Yet with that look of wide-eyed innocence, she had both of us fooled; Hal, my friend, youve maybe hit on the answer
Hal was staring at him. But, Marcus, I didnt really mean it. Only a joke. Look at her. Shes dressed like a scarecrow, swears like a trooper
Shes also a fine little actress, Marcus announced. It was she who stole my wallet earlier this evening.
No! Drawing warily nearer, Hal regarded the girl with a kind of horrified fascination. By God, yes, I see it nowits the fleet-footed lad you saved from pursuit! Not at all sure, you know, that Corbridges fancy runs in that particular direction, dear boy. But then again, his taste for whores is said to range far and wide.
Marcus felt the girl suddenly freeze into stillness. Are you calling me a whore? she breathed.
Hal stammered, No! Not exactly, you know, I merely suggested But with a last desperate burst of strength the girl had broken free, and Marcus was lunging after her, catching her round her slender waist; which was just as well because Tassie, who had hardly consumed anything all day except for one over-rich glass of wine at the Angel, suddenly swayed on her feet.
Hal called out, Gently there, Marcus. Go easy with her, man!
Trickery, said Marcus dismissively, all trickery. But even as he spoke, he had to move quickly, and was just in time to catch her as she crumpled slowly into his arms.
Chapter Four
Tassie woke to find herself in a big four-poster bed curtained with damask drapes. Feeling suddenly as if she couldnt breathe, she pushed her way out to find that it was daytime, and she was in a vast room full of dark mahogany furniture with gloomy paintings on the walls. Fear dried her throat. There was no sound at all, except for the ticking of an ormolu clock on the marble mantelshelf above the fireplace. The fingers pointed to just past three oclock. She must have slept all nightand half the day.
She flew to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. Her panic mounting, she hurried across to the big, velvet-draped window through which the low February sun was sending slanting rays of pale afternoon light. There was no escaping this way either, for from the window it was a straight drop of thirty feet or more to the broad pavement below. Now theres a bone-breaker of a fall, Georgie Jay would say
Where was she? How far away were her friends? She knew she was still in London, because beyond the huge stuccoed houses that lined this wide square she could see slate rooftops and white church spires stretching away to the familiar golden dome of St Pauls. But there was no sign at all of the seething bustle of humanity that filled the noisy streets around Covent Garden. A solitary carriage was pulling up further down the road, and a footman held open the door to let out a beautifully dressed woman and a small girl.
The way the woman held the childs hand, and smiled down at her, with love, brought a sudden ache to Tassies heart. Then her mind was filled with other emotions, because shed suddenly realised that she was no longer wearing Molls shabby old gown, but was swathed in a white lawn nightdress, with lacings at her throat, and with skirts that fell down to her bare ankles. She touched it with distaste and growing alarm. Who had undressed her, and put her in this? She couldnt remember a thing about arriving at the house! But she did remember those men last night. Marcus and his fancy friend Hal. Had they brought her here? If so, why? Why hadnt Marcus just handed her over to the constables? Then she remembered. And felt rather sick again. She sat suddenly on the edge of the vast bed, and recalled how Marcus and his friend had been discussing her hair, her voice, her skill with cards. Talking about heras if she was for sale.
Molls brash voice came back to her, as she warned, You must have seen the way men are starting to look at her! Therell be trouble soon if you dont look out
She clasped her hands together tightly. Something told her that what the men Marcus and Hal had in mind for her could be a good deal more dangerous even than being hauled up before the magistrates. Frantically she started to search the room for her shoes, her stockings, the horrible gown shed stolen from Moll; but it was no good. Every chest, every closet was quite empty.
And besides, the door was locked.
She stood very still in the centre of the room, trying to keep calm, trying to think what her friends would do. Stay in charge, Tass, Georgie Jay was always telling her. Size up your enemys weaknessand remember every card thats been played in the game.
But her game so far, with the man called Marcus, had been a simple path to disaster. Again her heart quailed within her. Shed been stupid enoughyes, and ungrateful enoughto pick his temptingly placed pocket as he hid her from the Watch yesterdayand then, as if Fortune was wreaking revenge, shed been challenged by him to a game of piquet at the Angel. Shed recognised him immediately, of course, with his thick dark hair and his lean, hard face and his limp. A little shiver had gone through her as he assessed her. But she still hadnt been able to resist cheating him, playing a dangerous game as ever; and if it hadnt been for the place being raided shed have escaped with her winnings, despite the fact that the man called Marcus had realised she was cheating him. But the general alarm, the rush to get out, had meant that she was trapped, literally, in her enemys arms. And then hed recognised her as the thief whod taken his wallet.
Hed also assumed that she was a doxy, and that Lemuel was her keeper. Lemuel, in charge of her! That was a joke, but nothing else about her situation was very funny at all.
Tassie curled up, shivering, on the big bed. She couldnt help but remember the moment when Marcus had pulled her against his long, powerful bodyhow hed felt dangerously strong and full of hard-packed muscle. Then hed kissed her, so casually, as if hed done that sort of thing with women a hundred times beforeShe clenched her hands tightly.
And that wasnt the worst of it. The worst of it was that shed been wildly disturbed. Her whole body had pounded with agitation. She should have pushed him away, should have defended herself, as she had that time with Billy, but instead shed found herself melting treacherously in his arms. She remembered all too vividly how her small breasts had tingled, her nipples growing hard, almost painful as they were crushed against his broad chest. And all the time, as he pressed his lips mercilessly against hers, all the time, as his strong hands played across her back for the benefit of the constables, pulling her even closer, shed felt an insistent ache of longing, a melting in the pit of her stomach, as though a flame had been kindled there
Worst of all, though, had been the cold, shivery feeling that engulfed her when at last he let her go, and insulted her so hatefully in front of those leering constables.
They had some plan afoot, the arrogant Marcus and his friend Halsomething to do with a man called Corbridge. Then when shed tried to run away, theyd kidnapped her and brought her here. Why? Oh, this was playing deeper than shed ever intended when she planned her stunt with Lemuel last night. She had to get out of here.
Just then she heard the sound of footsteps coming towards her door. She jumped up, her arms folded defensively across her breasts as she heard a key turning in the lock. Her heart thumped so heavily she thought she might choke. The door opened, and a woman glided into the room. She wore a black gown, edged frugally with lace; her brown hair was gathered tightly at the nape of her neck. She was young, yet she was dressed like a middle-aged matron. Was she perhaps the housekeeper here? Behind her followed a thin female servant, also in black, but with a starched white apron over her skirt and a white lace cap on her head. She carried a tray of food, and her expression was dauntingly grim. But the first woman smiled at Tassie and, to Tassies astonishment, her unremarkable face was quite transformed by the kindness that shone from within her.
My dear, she said softly, you should not have got out of bed! You should still be resting. She turned to the maid, who had put the tray down on a small satinwood table. That will be all, thank you, Emilia. You may go.
The maid gave Tassie a far from friendly look, which Tassie duly registered. Then she left, and Tassie waited, tense, silent. You looked so ill, my dear, the woman was continuing, when Hal and Major ForresterMarcusbrought you here last night. You need to rest. And you need plenty of good, nourishing food.
Major Forrester. An army officer. Tassie shut her eyes and opened them, both frightened and perplexed. If Hal and Marcus had brought her here, why hadnt they told this kind womanwho clearly had authoritythat Tassie was a common thief and a cheat to boot?
We thought you might enjoy a light meal after your rest. The woman pointed encouragingly at the tray. What is your name, pray?
Tassie took a deep breath. Tassie. Thats allma am.
Then welcome to this house, Tassie. Hal has instructed me to look after you until you get your strength back.
Tassie muttered, Saints and fiddlesticks, I dont believe She corrected herself rapidly. I meanwhy, maam?
Oh, you poor thing, of course, youll hardly remember! Youre here because Hal and Marcus found you, hungry and near-frozen with cold, out on the streets last night. You fainted; they couldnt just leave you there.
Tassie blinked. So the two men hadnt told this lady anything like the truth, and the omission did nothing to reassure her. She glanced quickly at the door, wondering whether to make a run for it right now. They have acted verynobly, she breathed.
Her irony was completely lost on the other woman. Well, naturally! She smiled. Hal is sometimes rash and impetuous, but he has a most generous heart. And so, of course, has Marcus. Gracious me, here I am, rattling on, and your food is growing cold! Ill leave you to eat in peacebut first, can I let anyone know you are here? Friends, or family?
No one, maam, said Tassie in a small voice. No one at allshe should be used to it by now, but even so she was caught unawares by the sudden ache in her throat. But you are kind to think of it. Mymy thanks.
The lady in black frowned, her head a little on one side. Strange, she murmured. Hal and Marcus said you were from one of the poorest quarters of the city, but your voice, your manner of speaking, give that the lie. Surely you have not always lived in poverty?
I was brought up in the country, said Tassie quickly. I am an orphan.
Ah, one hears such sad stories about orphansWere you treated kindly?
Tassie shrugged. I was fed, and given a roof over my head, maam.
I see. Tassie. Tassie. What an interesting name. Well, enough of my questions. Enjoy your food. I will visit you later; no doubt Marcus will also.
The lady left the room, closing the door behind her. Tassie, bracing herself anew at the sound of Marcuss name, heard her footsteps retreating softly down the corridor, and drew a deep, deep breath to steady herself. For the kind lady had helped her more than she would ever know, in that she had forgotten to lock the door
Marcus, who had been restlessly pacing the first-floor drawing room as the afternoon sun sank low in the sky, turned questioningly towards the black-gowned Caro Blakesley as she came to join him. Hals sister was one of the kindest, sweetest people he knew, and the death of her husband in a riding accident a year ago was a tragedy she had borne with dignity. Now he asked her, quickly, Is she awake, Caro? Shes not ill, is she?
She seems well, Marcus. I think the girl slept for so long simply because she was totally exhausted, and weak with hunger, poor thing. I took her a hot meal and told her to rest. She was most grateful.
Marcuss grey eyes narrowed. Grateful? Are you sure of that?
Yes! Contrary to what you said, she seems to me to have a shy but sweet nature. Her name is Tassie. I was quite enchanted by
Marcus broke in. Caro. You did lock the door to her room again, didnt you?
Caro hesitated. Why, no, I did not. It seems so hard to keep her a prisoner, when she is such a meek, gentle thing! She was an orphan, you know, brought up in the country
But Marcus was no longer listening, because he was already heading for the hallway.
He caught Tassie at the top of the stairs. She turned to run, but he was on her in seconds, grasping her firmly as her arms and legs flailed amidst the loose folds of her voluminous nightdress. Breathing hard, a little too conscious of her strikingly feminine form beneath the enveloping garment, Marcus carted her back down the corridor and threw her on to the four-poster bed, then very firmly shut the door. Outside, the February dusk was gathering into chilly darkness; he quickly closed the curtains, and lit a candle from the low-burning fire, while Tassie lay there glaring at him.
He went to stand over her, his hands on his hips, and said in a voice calculated to frighten her far more than any ranting or raving, I was informed that you were resting.
Yes. Yes, I was!
Carolike her brother, Halis good, and kind, and far too trusting.
Tassie heaved herself up. Carothat ladyshe is Hals sister?
Of course. Why, what else could she be?
Tassie muttered, I thought she was praps the housekeeper here.
Housekeeper!
Well, how was I supposed to know different? Nobody said! She felt her heart thumping rather hard again, but tossed back her loose hair defiantly. Any rate, one things for sure: Caro is kinder than you!
Certainly Im not so easily taken in by a cunning trickster. He smiled dangerously. Trying to escape, were you? Decided to do a runner?
Tassie bit her lip. She certainly wasnt going to try to run past him, even if he did have a limp. She was nearly as tall as Lemuel, but this man towered over her, six foot of hardened muscle, shoulders forbiddingly broad beneath his riding coat, strong booted legs set firmly apart. Major Marcus Forrester. All ready for action, she thought rather faintly. His long dark hair was tied loosely back from his face in a way that only emphasised the implacable set of his jaw, the iron glint in his grey eyes. And she couldnt help but remember his kissOne way or another, she really was in trouble. Time for desperate measures.
Slowly she pulled herself up off the bed. She let a couple of tears pool in her eyes, then, as soon as she guessed hed noticed them, she looked away and swallowed. Its a bit difficult to explain. You see, II was just going to look for the serving maid who brought me my food. I was hoping she would help me. It is my monthly time, sir, andand
Instantly Marcuss face was all concern. He said, Dear God, how stupid of me. You mean Emilia: I shall fetch her to you straight away, with all that you require.
Tassie blushed shyly and glanced up at him from beneath demurely lowered lashes. My thanks.
But then, suddenly, his eyes flashed with anger and he sprang towards her. By God, you impudent wench, he roared, is there no end to your trickery?
Hed grabbed her by the arm, and with his free hand was grasping at the deep pockets of her nightdress. And Tassie realised with horror that he had seen, outlined against the fine lawn fabric, the little silver mirror and the gilt scent phial that shed hidden there. She grabbed for them at the same time he did, but she was too late, and as he scooped the precious objects into his hands, Tassie dived instinctively for the door.
A futile attempt. Thrusting the objects on to a nearby table, he hauled her back, and she was overpowered by the sheer masculine force of him. He was breathing hard as he fought her into submission: every plane and angle of his lean face seemed carved in granite, and there was a dangerous light in his eyes. You little thief! he exploded. How could you steal from Caro, who has made you a welcome guest in her house?
She cursed her survivors instinct to take what she could, born of years of hardship. Trying vainly to still the wild beating of her heart, Tassie gazed up at him with despairing defiance. I didnt know this was her house, did I?
Even so, this goes beyond all bounds.
And so do you, youre a bully and aa prig! she declared, taking refuge in attack. Youve no right to keep me here against my will, no right at all, and you will let me go, this minute!
He shrugged, and to Tassies surprise, a slow smile started to soften his features as he gazed down at her. He spread his hands wide. Playing the street minx again? Im not stopping you. A positively wicked grin curved his mouth. But youd not be wise to go out on the streets looking like that, I assure you.
Bewildered by his sudden change of heart, still breathless from her outburst, Tassie followed the raking line of his hard grey eyes and looked down at herself. To her utter dismay, she realised that in the struggle for the trinkets, the laces that fastened the neck of her nightgown had come undone, leaving her bosom completely exposed. He was watching her with cynical amusement, and she gave a horrified gasp and tried to pull the fabric back across her throat. But her fingers fumbled with the unaccustomed laces, giving him time to lazily reach out his hand and brush his palm across her pink-tipped breasts; and as her nipples pulled and tightened to his touch, Tassie felt a sensation flood through her so strongly that she could scarcely stand. Like his kiss, onlyonlyHer breasts ached almost unbearably, and her stomach churned with dark longing. She tried to back away, but her legs were weak; she was struggling for control, yet felt quite helpless as his long fingers toyed with those incredibly sensitive crests.
And Marcus, too, was shaken. God, but she was beautiful, this girl! Common thief she might be, but she was also a young woman, and all that any man could desire; that was why the heat seared his flesh and pounded between his thighs. Watch yourself, Marcus, he warned himself. Douse that flame at your loins, man, she knows exactly what shes doing. Aloud he drawled, A tempting doxy, indeed, in spite of that hot temper! Well played, my resourceful vagabond. You certainly know how to distract your opponent when caught in the wrong, dont you? But you should take care, you know. Not every man would react to your teasing with such restraint.
Tassie almost groaned with shame. He thought shed revealed herself to him deliberately! Desperately she tried to push him away, but he knocked her hands aside, then reached with almost dismissive casualness to catch at the laces of her nightgown and proceeded, with those same long, sensitive fingers that had just tormented her so wickedly, to tie the laces into perfect bows across her throat. Tassie slapped at him blindly, overwhelmed by his nearness. Get your hands off me, she faltered. Or IllIll
Marcus was in control again. An iron self-control hed learned in battle. Obediently he took a step backwards and admired his handiwork. Youll what, minx? Call for the constables?
Tassie, white-faced, let her gaze swing towards the door; Marcus quickly moved to block her path. Oh, no. No escape that way, my dear. At leastnot before Ive informed you of a proposition Ive got in mind for you.
Tassie pulled herself together with an effort. Indeed? she flashed back. A proposition? And there was I thinking youd already made several! Let me go now; give me back my clothes, or Ill tell that kind lady, Caro, that youve tried to kidnap me!
He smiled, his teeth white and even in the shadowy light of the fire. Just as I could tell her youre a thief. Save your histrionics for the low-class dives of Covent Garden, Tassie. Yes, I know your name; Caro told me. Let me repeat that Im not in the market for light-fingered doxies. She flinched again; he pressed on. But you do happen to have several qualities in which I am interested. Firstly, youre obviously an expert at all forms of trickerycards, thievery, and so on. Secondlyyoure rather a good little actress, arent you? Ive noticed how quickly youre able to switch from ranting hussy to poor, beleaguered innocent, from spouting street cant to quite respectable English. Tell me, where did you learn to speak so well when youve a mind to it?
Her heart thudded again, but she tilted her chin defiantly. Why, sir, it just comes natural to me! she declared, putting her hands on her hips and deliberately adopting her ripest city slang. Anyone can speak proper when they choose!
That I take leave to doubt. But now Ill move on to my third point. You, as I see it, are in deep trouble. You stole my wallet, and were cheating at the Angel; by rights you should be locked up in Newgate. Not a pretty prospect, as Im sure youll agree.
Tassie did agree. Shed heard about Newgate, and the very thought of being inside that foul place made her feel quite sick. I thought you were talking about a proposition, she said in a low voice. But it sounds more to me like some kind of threat. And I warn you, if you turn me in Ill deny everything!
He said evenly, in a voice that made her shiver, You could try. But I would advise against it. He took a few uneven paces round the room, and paused eventually with one hand on the mantelpiece, and his booted right foot on the fender. The firelight flickered over his lean, vivid face and made sparks appear to dance in his disturbing grey eyes. Let me take you to the heart of the matter. There is a man in London on whom I wish, very badly, to be revenged. He has several weaknesses, and I intend to attack accordingly. Firstly, he is a gambler, who cannot resist a challenge when the stakes are high. And, secondly, he has a marked liking for pretty women who are skilled at card play.
So Im ruled out for certain, surely, if you are looking for someone pretty? Since you make it quite clear that I am nothing of the kind!
She saw a half-smile flicker across his strong moutha dangerous, all-male smile. Those werent my precise words, minx, he softly said. I think, in fact, that you could be very, very pretty.
She felt the colour rising in her cheeks. You jest with me, Tassie said flatly.
I assure you, this is no jest. No, indeed. His voice, his expression told her he was in deadly earnest. To put it briefly, Tassie, you and I could help each other out, quite considerably.
Tassie clasped her hands together tightly. So far Ive gathered that you want me to play cards with your cousin. Sebastian Corbridge.
Shed taken him by surprise. How on earth do you know his name?
I heard you talking about him last night, with your friendHal. She looked up at him directly. But why bother with me, Marcus? Fie, it would only take a skilled card cheat one night to fleece this man Corbridge, and you must know there are plenty of those in London town! Why not look one of them up, and leave me out she let scorn trickle into her words of your petty scheme of revenge?
Marcus was silent for a while, but he was still assessing her with those iron-hard eyes that made her feel so uneasy. At last he said, This isnt about me, Tassie. Corbridge, you see, has cheated not me, but my godfather, a kindly, honest old man who has no idea how to protect himself against rogues. That is why I am acting for him. I want to lay a trap for Corbridge, I want him lured into deep, deep play; and I want you to be the bait at the heart of it.
Bait. Tassie swallowed rather hard on the sudden dryness in her throat. His coat of dark grey broadcloth had fallen open as he talked, and the moulded softness of his white silk shirt did nothing to diminish the breadth or the power of his shoulders and chest. She found her gaze flickering with some agitation over the strong muscles of his thighs beneath his tight-cut breeches and remembered a little faintly how shed felt, all too clearly, the evidence of his arousal as hed casually fondled her breasts.
Bait. This man wanted to make a bargain with her. He wanted to cold-bloodedly use her to trap an enemy he despised.
Oh, this was possibly the most dangerous man she had ever met. She would have to keep her defences up, every minute, until she got well away from here. She tilted her chin in defiance, though really she felt more alone and more afraid than she had for many years. And how exactly were you thinking of paying me, Marcus? By the hour? By the day? How do you usually hire youryour sluts, pray?
He folded his arms across his chest. I thought Id reassured you several times that youre really not to my taste. I was merely offering to pay you for your time, and skills
Her fear was banished by anger. Oh, this I will not endure! You think your fancy words and fine money give you the right to insult whomsoever you pleasebut youve truly picked the wrong person this time, believe me, Major Forrester! Now, Id be extremely obliged if youd give me back my clothes and let me go, this very minute.
No!
There was a pause. Then Marcus said slowly, regretfully, It really is a great pity, Tassie, but I think youd be wise to go along with my plan.
Tassie paled. Why?
Unfortunately, some things are beyond my power. You see, the constables have got hold of that young red-headed scamp who was with you last night.
She was shaking her head, feeling unsteady. No. Lemuel got away from the Angel, I know he did. Youre lying!
He shook his head. He made the mistake of going back to the Angel once the fuss had died down, to look for you; that was when the constables arrested him. Lemuels not as clever as you, is he, Tassie? Hes the kind who talks too much. If hes not released pretty quickly, he could get you and all your friends into serious trouble.
Her heart was thudding again and she felt rather sick. So what must I do? To help him? Oh, poor Lemuel, always the most loyal of friends, and tis all my fault Marcuss eyes were hard as granite. I have a certain amount of influence at the Bow Street office. I could get your friend out of there, without a charge. But only if you agree to help me with my plan against Corbridge.
Tassie gazed at him, her heart aching with distress. Soso youre prepared to blackmail me now, are you, in order to get what you want?
Blackmail? he queried sharply. Hardly. All you have to do is dress yourself up like a ladyin clothes which I will provideand speak charmingly, as I know very well you can. When the time is right I want you to play cards with my cousin Lord Sebastian Corbridge, making quite sure that you win; in return, Ill help your foolish friend and reward you handsomely.
How much?
Im willing to offer you the sum of fifty guineas.
The ground rocked beneath Tassies feet. She had never seen so much money in her life. Fifty guineas She drew a deep breath and tossed her hair back from her face. Arent you afraid that I might rob and cheat you again, Marcus?
Marcus laughed, and in his laughter was a sudden chill. No, Im not. Not in the slightest. You see, Ill be keeping a very close eye on you, Tassie. I hold all the aces this time. From now on, dont even think of getting the better of me.
She would think of nothing else, Tassie vowed resolutely. But her answer had to be yes. Yes, she would accept his offerfirstly, because Lemuel was in trouble, and, secondly, because this mans money, so casually offered, could mean more than he would ever guess.
It might help her to find out who she really was.
Only a few days ago, back at the Blue Bell, Tassie had asked Georgie Jay casually, How would you find out, Georgie? If there was some mystery about your past? If you wanted to know where you really, truly belonged?
Georgie Jay had frowned. Its the same old story if you want anything, Tass. You need money. Money for fancy investigatorsmoney for lawyers. Youd need a whole purseful of guineas to go down that road, girl. Not thinkin about that place you ran from all those years ago, are you now? Shed shaken her head. And yet she was always thinking about it, always. Now, in this bedroom, alone with Marcus, she swallowed down the sudden ache in her throat. Shed known for months that her time with kind Georgie Jay and his friends could not go on for ever. You need money
Bait, Marcus had said. Shed be the bait in the trap; the lure to tempt his enemy Corbridge into a deep, deep game. But once Lemuel was safe, she, Tassie, would make very sure that she was the one deciding on the order of play. She faced Marcus squarely, hiding all her inner turmoil like the player, the trickster he took her to be. Fifty guineas, you said?
I did.
And you promise to pay me as soon as Ive done what you want?
Most certainly I promise.
And youll get Lemuel away from the constables Tassie thrust out her hand. We have a bargain, Marcus, you and I. But the touch of his warm, strong fingers as he grasped hers unsettled her anew. She dragged her hand away quickly. He proceeded to tell her then that she would be staying here, with Caro to look after her, until the time was right to tackle Corbridge; and Tassie nodded coolly, as if it were every day that she made a bargain for fifty guineas with a complete stranger. But her heart was thudding against her chest like a caged bird by the time he finally left her. And after hed shut the door, she heard the key being turned in the lock outside.
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Lucy Ashford
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The Major and the Pickpocket, электронная книга автора Lucy Ashford на английском языке, в жанре современная зарубежная литература