His Forbidden Debutante (22 page)

‘We’ll be in all the papers, boss.’ The shorter, dull-looking fellow – named Booth, apparently – seemed to take joy in the possibility, but the taller man sneered a look of annoyance and advanced a menacing step. Livie clenched her slipper against her stomach, wishing she stood aside Esme who was a full two strides away and near the corner of the building leading to the street. If any chance at escape to summon help existed, the action would fall to Esme.

‘I’ve been watchin’ you, gel.’ Hawkins emitted a satisfied grunt. ‘Ever since I skimmed the old man’s register book.’

Livie caught her breath at the menacing stranger’s comment, the implications of his threatening tone louder than his troubling statement.

‘Now make nice and ‘and over the diamond clips. Then neither of you fine ladies need get ‘urt unless you enjoy that sort of thing.’ An ugly laugh punctuated his horrid statement and he waggled his brows to lend lascivious insight to his disturbed intentions.

At the mention of the shoe clips, Livie’s gaze shot to Esme aimed for silent communication. She’d only just given the clips to her friend and now they would place Esme in harm’s way. She couldn’t allow it to happen. But would Esme understand the meagre opportunity and flee around the corner?

‘So, I’ve my eye on the wrong bird, then?’ The intimidating man cast a quick look over his shoulder. ‘Search the gel, Booth, and be sure to probe every ‘iding place. Enjoy yourself, why don’t you?’

With a snicker of derelict laughter, the miscreant grasped Esme’s arm and yanked her forward. ‘Right.’ He grinned, his teeth a dark shade of neglect. ‘It’ll be my pleasure.’

‘No. Stop.’ Wielding her slipper, Livie launched at the foul stranger and, with every ounce of rebellion, struck at the man’s head with the heel. She connected with a solid knock, but once recovered from the brief ambush, Booth shoved her away with such force, she stumbled backwards and into the arms of the taller, meaner-looking cur who’d watched and waited with blatant amusement. The bottoms of her stockings tore from the sharp filth of the alley to bite at the soles of her feet. Before she could take a breath, he’d locked her to his length, one arm fastened around her middle, his repulsive body plastered to her back. He leaned in, pushing his face against her cheek, and his stale breath sent a revolting shudder ripping through her. She recoiled with fear and wretched disgust, letting out a scream of objection which provoked him to clamp a foul-smelling palm over her mouth in tight suffocation of the sound. Her stomach heaved at the press of his hand against her skin, her eyes flared wide.

‘Now why do you want to ruin our little get-together, ladies?’

Booth chuckled and grabbed at the ribbons near Esme’s collar. ‘She’s a pretty ‘un, too, boss. Nice ‘n clean.’

‘Shut your bone box and get on with it. I can’t ‘old this one still all day. She’s kicking my shins with ‘er bare feet and squirming like a fish. I’ll not ‘ave ‘er find my whirlygigs and put me down.’ Hawkins’ harsh command brought the other miscreant to sharp attention.

Livie still grasped the shoe, but the stranger held her so firmly, his arm wrapped to pin hers at her sides, the slipper was useless. Meanwhile she watched with horror as Booth ran a palm across Esme’s bodice.

‘Soft round bubs on this ‘un.’ He sneered a smile. ‘Curse of the devil we ‘ave no time for me to taste a bit of mutton? I can be quick.’

Esme went white, pale as death, and Livie feared her friend would faint from the horror, rendering her helpless to the cur’s despicable advances and eradicating any hope she would flee and return with help. Summoning every ounce of courage on Esme’s behalf and suffocating her revulsion at her chosen task, Livie gave a violent twist at the same time she bit into the thief’s palm with precise success. The fool had become distracted with Booth’s exploration and her ambush stunned him long enough to loosen his hold across her mouth. With that, Livie pushed out words as quickly as possible.

‘No. Leave her alone. You want me. I have the clips. I’ll give them to you. I have the diamonds.’ The confession rushed forth in a panicked tumble, but it succeeded in catching the thieves’ attention.

‘Run, Esme. Run and get help.’ The shrieked plea slapped Esme into action and, at last, she darted towards the corner, evading Booth’s delayed attempt to capture her by the skirts.

‘Let her go. We ‘ave what we want right ‘ere, long as the gel knows not to try that little trick again.’ Hawkins slapped his hand across Livie’s mouth so tight his fingers pinched her lips against her teeth. Tears burned the inside of her lids. She attempted to shake him off and her spectacles slipped downward. With the fear her glasses would fall and render her at a grave disadvantage, she stilled, but the telling action revealed too much.

‘Let me ‘elp you.’ With a cruel chuckle, Hawkins removed her glasses while his hold around her arms tightened, twisting and bruising her skin.

Everything became a blur. Oh, lord, what had he done with her spectacles?

‘Bring the gig round and make ‘aste. No tellin’ when the other gel may return and who she might bring with ‘er.’

Defeated, Livie remained utterly still. With the way she was caught against the thief’s body, her head pulled sharp, her movements were limited, otherwise the lengths of her hair would be yanked from her scalp. He’d effectively subdued her and she cursed herself for falling prey to such a low-level fool.

With surprising speed, the gig appeared and, hampered by the volume and weight of her skirts, she was dragged, shoved and bundled into the conveyance, all the while restricted from movement against the offensive body of the man called Hawkins. She dropped her shoe at the last moment, a desperate attempt to leave behind some clue in the alley, for otherwise she would have disappeared without a trace. With hope, Esme would summon the law and return to Kirby Park. But how would they ever find her? Dash would be furious and with that he would act, but good heavens, her sister and Aunt Kate would be terrified for her safety.

How had everything unravelled? Those blasted shoe clips. At least Esme had them safely tucked in her reticule, but what would become of Livie when the thieves discovered she’d lied and hadn’t the diamonds as promised? Worse yet, how would they go about searching her to determine if she told the truth? Her stomach roiled at the imagined atrocities.

Inside the gig, despite her visual impairment, a long strip of dirty cloth was used to blindfold her eyes and bind her wrists. She was huddled on the bare wooden bench, too pensive to become emotional. No one would find her, her shoe a desperate attempt to prove her abduction. The stark reality of her situation settled with weighty despair. It remained in her power alone to land on her feet and survive.

Chapter Eighteen

‘I’ll have no part of this, Jonathan.’ Claire’s voice trembled with a somewhat miraculous show of bravery as she attempted to waylay her brother. Unfortunately, Penwick knew she’d be thwarted if not altogether ignored.

‘That’s not what you said when I promised you’d marry an earl.’ Allington chuckled, low and sharp. ‘Do you really think a man of title would be interested in a commoner, a girl of lower status in society? Foolish assumption, dear sister. You can’t possibly be more obtuse than I assumed? Father’s wealth can buy many things, but a title is not one of them unless, of course, you consider our plan. Now you will have what you want and I will have it all.’

‘Father will be angry.’ Her whisper lacked any trace of conviction. ‘I never consented to violence. You said it was a matter of business negotiations. You said…’

‘Shut it. Father will not risk reputation. I know the old man better than you ever shall, never mind you’re his blood and I’m his bastard. Lest you forget, Father will not live for ever, so disobeying me will lead you to a very unhappy future.’ He paused and lent a hard stare in her direction. ‘Now go. I grow tired of your redundancies. We discussed the intricacies of this plan before it was ever set into motion. I’ll not renege when I’m so close to my goal.’

Penwick cursed softly, not wishing to draw further attention, but angry he hadn’t seen signs of Allington’s delusional vision for the future. How had he arrived at this critical juncture? Had he not been so turned inside out by Livie’s letters…
Livie
.

Bloody hell, she would believe him the despicable heel she’d accused him of exemplifying the other morning. The remembrance of her sweet body beside his kept determination clear. He would overpower Allington at the first opportunity and find his way out of this mess.

He breathed deep, taking in the smell of fresh hay and barley. Allington had dumped him in the stable in a sly and cowardly machination of an apparent plan with Claire as counterpart. This seemed the only explanation that made sense. His physical debilitation was solved in easier fashion. The sluggish sensation coursing through his veins was laudanum; just enough in his brandy to dull his reactions, fog his mind and allow Allington the advantage to overtake and deposit him in the stables. But what the man had in store forthwith remained a dangerous proposition. The wedding, yes, but with what end result?

‘Leave now, Claire. Follow the plan and don’t complicate things any more than you have already.’ Allington’s order brooked no contradiction.

Claire flicked her eyes to the stall and settled her gaze on Penwick, prone and quiet on the hay-covered floor, but she said not another word and hurried from the stable soon after.

‘Quite a different outcome without your rapier.’ Allington approached and kicked the sole of Penwick’s boot. The unsettling vibration shimmied up his leg, the muscles strangely lethargic, his body trapped in an unfamiliar torpor worse than any ramifications due to over-imbibement or consequence from sickness.

‘What did you put in my drink, you bastard?’

‘How like you, Penwick. Clever on both counts.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘A familiar tincture of liquid persuasion. Two splashes of laudanum, enough to subdue, but not kill. And you’ve guessed with precision. I am, indeed, my father’s bastard. Well-loved and taken care of, but illegitimate all the same. Lady Allington welcomed me, the pathetic, soft-hearted creature. It was a blessing when she passed and I no longer needed to play the doting son.’

‘But what could you possibly wish to gain? You already have your father’s loyalty and the promise of a lucrative future in diamond sales.’ He shot his head upward, forgetting the after-effect caused by the drug would cause hell for the motion. He clenched his teeth to deter the desire to wince.

‘I’ll blame the laudanum for your dull-witted deduction skills.’ Allington blew out a long exhale as if suffering fools was far beneath him and, under his inspection, Penwick shifted on the floor, failing to find a sense of energy in his heavy limbs. ‘Inconvenient and uncomfortable, the binds, but they were necessary to move you here. Just for one night. The vicar is arranged for the morning, so you will wed my lovely sister as planned. Then you will be rid of me. I’ll have everything I need.’ Self-satisfaction inflated the pronouncement. ‘With your title attached to the family and Father’s new entry into high society, he will have little use for a bastard son. I’ve known for years through ambitious personal investigating that the old man has no intention of leaving me the business. It all goes to Claire, never mind he’s done me the wrong.’

‘I don’t understand.’ The longer he could stall with conversation and diversion, the better chance he’d reclaim his natural strength. Still, he would have to choose the opportunity with care. He’d have only one attempt to overtake Allington and escape.

‘You wouldn’t. How could you?’ Sarcasm crept into his tone. ‘You are a polished aristocrat with pristine title, revered status and a level of unmitigated respect. These qualities are inherent to you and far detached from someone born on the wrong side of the blanket, but not provided for. Until now. I’ve been collecting the finest gemstones as an investment in my future. With your marriage and the exquisite bauble designed for your gift to Claire, I’ll have all the money I’ll ever need.’

Penwick surveyed Allington who stood over him with a hard glint in his eye, having advanced with each comment as if the facts were accusations which somehow he’d perpetrated. ‘I believe you have confused loyalty with duty. Some say I’m a victim of circumstance. I never expected to inherit the title and up to this point wasn’t sure I appreciated it. Now I know for certain, I wish the earldom never fell to me. We cannot choose our past, most especially when impacted by the choices of our family. Everyone is prey to the same effect.’

Allington slanted a sceptical glance, as if the notion of disliking inheritance of title presented lunacy. Yet he only paused a moment before continuing. ‘I’ve worked hard to collect my wealth, skimming my father’s imported diamond shipments and amassing my own fortune, one which no one can claim. I knew once Claire married a titled gentleman as Father intended, I would fall out of favour, left to fend for myself. Your proposal has initiated additional planning, and when my father boasted of the finest diamonds ever mined for Claire’s gift, I couldn’t ignore such promise of wealth. With this theft I have everything needed to leave England and begin anew in America. I contacted a few men at the mines, arranged for a convenient delay in shipment, and instead had the gems made into shoe clips, easily transported through the regular channels I’ve always used for my smuggling endeavours. A shoe store, a few boxes and a livery uniform is all the effort it took. One finds all kinds of hoodlums willing to earn a few extra coin.’

‘You might have remained with your father and stifled your greed. You would have no need for wealth as he would have offered you whatever lifestyle you desired.’ Penwick attempted to sort through Allington’s convoluted reasoning. ‘Furthermore, had you cultured a better relationship with me, you’d have become welcomed in any aristocratic circle.’

‘As their lesser.’

‘No.’ Penwick gave a slight shake of the head, though the after-effects of the drug still tainted his clarity. ‘We can still talk to your father and settle this without harm.’