Jack of Clubs (18 page)

Harriet was pulling on his coattails. “But you will come to visit, won't you, Papa Jack?”

“Of course I will. I'd miss Joker too much, otherwise.”

When they reached the red door, Jack told Harriet to take the dog into the rear yard, to explain the move to him. She skipped off, chattering about the squirrels to chase in the park, the whole of Carde House to explore, and the kitten. “You'll learn to like cats,” she told the lumbering old hound.” And you won't miss Cap'n Jack at all, 'cause he'll come see us. Every day,” she added louder, for the captain's benefit.

Allie touched Jack's arm before going upstairs to her rooms. “Are you certain about this? I mean, no matter how frugally we live, there is still the expense of another whole household. I would be happy to defer my salary until the next quarter.”

“What, and have no funds for fripperies and such? Did you think I did not notice that your gloves are darned and you seem to possess three gowns? You are entitled to your wages, every shilling of them. Lud knows no one else would take on the brat. But I shall manage, so do not worry. I still have a few possessions I can punt on tick. Pawn, that is. And I can take a hand in some of the deeper card games. That is how I made enough money to purchase the club, after all.”

“But you could lose!”

“Then I would apply to my brother for a loan.” His voice took on a bitter edge. “That is not what I wished to do when I set out. I wanted to prove to him, and myself, I suppose, that I could make my own way in the world.”

Allie reached out to touch his hand. “I am sorry if you have to go to him, for us.”

He grasped her hand in his much larger one. “I will be sorry if it comes to that too, but I will be able to pay him back soon enough. More importantly, you will be safe away from here.”

Allie tried to ignore the fact that he still held her hand, which was hard to do, since her fingers were tingling and growing warm in her glove, despite the bandages. “Safe?” she asked, diverting her thoughts from the unfamiliar feelings. “You cannot think the arsonist had me in mind when he set the fire, do you? I cannot believe Montford would go so far to get rid of an insignificant connection, no matter how undesirable.”

“No, the danger is not Montford, and not the fire-starter, although I would love to learn that dastard's identity. But you will be safer at Carde House, safer from me. I suppose I should apologize for the liberties I took last night, but I am not going to. Worse, I cannot promise that it will not happen again. That is why you cannot stay here.”

“You…want to kiss me again?” It wasn't just a moment's madness, after the fire and the furor?

Jack raised her hand, darned glove, bandages and all, to his lips, but he turned her hand over and found the inch of skin between her glove and her sleeve. He kissed that. “You'll never know how much.”

“Me? Not just any woman?”

“You, Miss Allison Montford Silver. I would kiss you until your knees went weak.”

They already were.

“And your breath caught in your lungs.”

It already was.

“And you let me take your hair down.”

His other hand was already reaching to pull out the hairpins.

“And let me carry you up to my bedchamber.”

Allie was already packing for Carde House.

Chapter Eighteen

Allie found the housemaid she needed although she had not been looking for one in the tiny rear yard of the gaming club where she'd gone to find Harriet. Now that she was officially employed as the child's governess, Allie felt, she owed it to Captain Endicott to do a better job of watching his ward. Neither Harriet nor the dog was in the small enclosed area, though, but Allie stayed anyway. Her official position could officially start in a few minutes, after she had time to reflect on recent events.

She sat on the hard bench, barely noticing the chill in the air or the straggling weeds in the garden. A spindly rosebush drooped against the rear stone wall, its flowers all gone, its leaves brown and shriveled. Allie did not see it, only a tall, erect, brown-haired man in her mind's eye.

He was doing what he did not wish to do—borrowing his brother's house, perhaps borrowing his brother's money—for her, not Harriet. Harriet was already tainted with scandal by her mother's murder and her uncle's guilt. Even if the new Lord Hildebrand returned from India rich and reformed, Harriet might never be considered fit company for other daughters of the aristocracy. Whether she lived in a casino or a castle was not going to make much difference. And she was too young to care.

But Allie had to care, and now Jack did too. He was sacrificing himself and his pride so that she could keep a bit of hers. The very thought almost brought tears to Allie's eyes. No, that had to be the cold breeze. She could not cry because someone was kind to her, could she?

The simple fact was that years had gone by since anyone cared enough about Allie to put her best interests ahead of their own. Now the owner of a gaming establishment was doing just that. A hell-raker with a good heart, the gambler was actually gambling on her, a governess! Jack Endicott had to be the nicest man she had ever met. He was also the most practiced libertine, of course, but he was still kind, still caring. Allie could not help being touched.

She could not help the warmth inside her that ignored the frigid temperature outside, either, not when she recalled the tender touch of Jack's lips on her wrist.

If people had seldom noted Allie's existence since her father's death, even fewer had noticed her in a womanly fashion. The French dancing master at Mrs. Semple's had often tried to steal a kiss, and Lady Beatrice's older brother had once pinched her, but schoolmistresses were not generally mistress material.

Now a genuine London womanizer wanted to seduce her, plain Allie Silver. That was what he said, anyway. He'd also said he would not, because he was a gentleman and she was a lady.

Just knowing that Jack considered her a lady raised Allie's temperature two degrees. Knowing that he desired her, that she had not been the only one stirred by their kiss, set her blood to simmering. A man who could have all the Rochelle Poitiers he wanted, wanted her. Allie's bosom might not match Miss Poitier's in plentitude, but, oh, it swelled now. For the first time in her life, discounting the slap she'd given Lady Beatrice's brother, Allie felt the power of a woman. She could attract a man, arouse a man, appeal to a man's senses.

Unfortunately, she also felt, also for the first time, the power and the pull of an attractive male. Why, she nearly forgot her own name when Jack merely kissed her wrist! She might have let Jack seduce her—again—but Mr. Downs had come into the hall to speak about ordering more wine.

Of course Jack was not going to seduce her. He'd dredged up scruples instead. He was sending her away, which was proper and polite…and Puritanical. Her own Don Juan had turned into a disappointing Don Won't.

Allie scolded herself for having such unworthy thoughts. She was rescued, her rightful place as a respectable female restored. She was wanted, as a woman but not as a wanton. She ought to be relieved.

So why was she weeping?

The warm tears might be hers, but those sobs were not. Her heart was not broken, Allie told herself, only a bit tattered around the edges, like her cloak. She pulled it closer around her, but the sounds continued. Now she heard a moan intermingled with the sobs, and a muffled prayer for help.

She was obviously not the intended recipient of that plea, but Allie could not ignore the pitiful cry. “Hallo?” she called.

The sounds all ceased.

“Are you in trouble?”

She got no reply.

Allie sat and waited, until she thought she heard a sniffle. She went over to the side of the wall where she thought the sound was coming from, and called again. This time she thought she heard a scuffling, as of something being dragged, or someone creeping farther away. Allie knew she ought to go inside and fetch Calloway or Downs or one of the new guards if Captain Endicott was busy. That's what she would have ordered Harriet to do. But they were all busy, and Jack had already gone to enough trouble on her behalf today. Besides, she might have been imagining the whole thing.

She looked at the garden wall. It was not very high, just a bit taller than she was. Even if she jumped up, she could not look over. The stones, though, were uneven, and easily climbable—for a man in breeches or a monkey or Harriet. Allie told herself she would have been furious with Harriet for doing such a thing, even as she tucked up the skirt of her gown to keep it out of her way.

She would purchase new gloves as soon as she and Harriet were installed in their new house, so Allie did not worry about further tearing these on the rough stones as she climbed. When she was partway up, her right arm securely wrapped over the top stone, she was able to look down. A narrow alley ran between The Red and the Black's stone garden wall and a wooden fence belonging to whatever house backed onto the property. The space between was wide enough for a man or a horse, but not a carriage. A few barrels, a wooden plank, and some rags littered the area. Allie thought this might have been how the arsonist reached the rear door, by climbing over the wall. He might have left the rags and the barrel for another try, but surely the Bow Street Runner would have inspected the alley, wouldn't he?

She decided to ask in the morning instead of checking for herself. Climbing up had not been hard, but climbing over the wall, and then turning to climb down, was beyond her. Besides, what if the stones on the other side were smooth, without hand- and footholds? Then, too, Allie was willing to spend her wages on gloves, but new gowns and a new cloak were too dear, if these were ruined in her foolish scramble. And her hands still hurt.

Then the pile of rags moved. And moaned.

Dear heaven, it was a girl. Allie could see long blond hair—or was it red? No, that was blood! She was over the wall and down on the ground without hesitation. She had a skinned knee, a sore ankle from when she landed, and shreds where her gloves had been, but she was fine. The girl was not.

She had a gash on the side of her head, a split lip, an eye that was swollen shut, and tear streaks through the dirt on her cheeks. She was shivering in her thin gown, without a shawl, a pelisse or a cape of any kind. Allie took her own cloak off and put it over the girl. She could not have been much over seventeen, as far as Allie could tell under the dirt and the blood and the bruises. Good grief, what if this was Jack's sister trying to find him?

She bent down and softly touched the girl's cheek. “I will go for help, dear, but what is your name?”

“Patsy, ma'am, but you best go. Iffen Fedder finds me, he'll beat you too. I'll leave as soon as I can.” Patsy tried to get up, but cried out when she put pressure on her arm.

“No, you stay here. I'll fetch someone.”

“No, he'll kill me for sure!”

“This Fedder. Is he your husband? Your brother? Your employer?”

Patsy started to cry again, while Allie held her handkerchief to the wound on the girl's head, trying to stop the bleeding there. “No, he's naught but a villain I met when I come to London. He said as how he'd drive me to a friend he had, who took in girls fresh from the country and helped them find jobs.”

“Oh, no.”

Patsy nodded. “I were that green, ma'am. I didn't know no better.”

“But you tried to get away?”

“It were awful. He had locks on the doors, him and the old woman.” She was sobbing in earnest now, and shaking again.

Allie was shaking herself, not from the cold, but from anger. “Did he force himself on you?” she demanded, ready to skin this Fedder alive if she could get her hands on him.

“That weren't what he wanted. He wanted me to go with other men, for money! I ain't that kind of girl. My mum would kill me! Then Fedder near did, when I bit that first bloke. So I jumped out the window and I run away. He was chasing me,'til I found this alley. I rolled a barrel acrost the entrance so he wouldn't look here, but he might when he can't find me nowheres else. Please, ma'am, please don't let him find me!”

“He won't, not if I can help it. You'll be safe with me.” She thought a moment, then asked, “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“Three brothers, ma'am, and two little sisters. That's why I come to London, to find a paying job so as to send money home for them. My da got lung fever from the mines and I don't want the boys to go.”

Patsy had a family, and it was not Jack's family. And the girl was used to children. “Would you want to work as a nursemaid and all-around house servant? Help with cooking and cleaning?”

“For an honest wage? I can't think of anything I'd rather do, ma'am.”

“Then you are hired. Now all we have to do is smuggle you into the house so no one sees you, give you a few days to heal, and then you shall be ready to go with Miss Hildebrand and me to our new rooms.” Allie did not mention the grand style of the new lodgings, lest she frighten the girl worse. “No one will find you there, and even if Fedder does, you will not have to go with him.” Jack had promised them a footman to act as guard, so Allie was not promising Jack's personal protection nor the authority of his brother's name and wealth. Not exactly.

She was spending Jack's money, though, and hiring an unknown female for the earl's household. She decided that she would rather introduce Patsy to Jack when the girl was looking, and feeling, more the thing.

First, of course, she had to get Patsy into the house, without the Fedder person spotting her. Leading her out of the alley and around the corner to the front of the club would take too long in Patsy's condition, and be too visible. People on the street were bound to notice a battered young female entering The Red and the Black, which notoriety none of them needed. Allie did not think she could climb back up and over the stone wall. Patsy certainly could not. Bother, where was Harriet when she needed a tomboy?

“You'll have to stay here a minute while I go get help,” Allie told the younger woman. Patsy grasped her hand. “You'll come back?”

“I swear.” Unless Jack killed her, for bringing another mess into his life.

Allie struggled to move the barrel from the narrow entryway. Patsy's desperation must have lent the girl strength, she thought, barely budging the obstacle enough for her to squeeze past it. She looked both ways, in case Fedder was still searching. Drat, she ought to have asked what the dastard looked like! A large man in a moleskin jacket was striding down the block in the opposite direction, thank goodness, so Allie hurried toward the front of the gaming club. She tried not to run, not to draw attention to herself, but Fedder, if that was he, would not chase a prim and proper schoolteacher, thinking she was hurrying out of the cold because she had forgotten her cloak.

The red door or the black door? Jack and Downs had gone to the cellars, but that was awhile ago. And the moleskin-wearer had been big. Downs was no weakling, but he did have a limp. She had no idea where the Bow Street Runner was, or the other guards. And Jack—Well, she did not want to bother him right now.

So she rapped on the red, guest door, where the biggest, meanest, most intimidating man of her acquaintance ruled. Snake opened the door, glaring. “You know you ain't supposed to use this—”

Allie would have been frightened except for the tiny black kitten in Calloway's huge hand and the basket at his feet.

“Cap'n Jack promised Harriet a cat,” he said, trying not to look embarrassed as the kitten dug its claws into his shirt to climb toward his neck. “I knew where the mama cat stashed this one, so fetched it back. I figure it's worth getting scratched, to get rid of the brat. She's off bothering Cook so she don't know yet. It'll be on your head if we don't get any dinner tonight.”

“Forget about dinner, Harriet, and the kitten. I need you to come with me.”

“I can't leave my place here. You know that, miss.” The kitten had clawed its way to the top of Calloway's head, so he appeared to be wearing a wig.

“You have to. It's a matter of life and death. And finding someone to look after Harriet when I cannot.”

Calloway handed her the kitten, picked up a short club he kept by the door for emergencies, and followed her out to the street.

“Oh no, there is the man in the moleskin coat. If that is Fedder, we cannot let him see what we are doing.”

“Fedder the Pimp? Did he bother you, miss?” Calloway swung his club from one hand to the other.

“No, not me. But hurry, his back is turned.”

When the man headed in the opposite direction, Allie led Calloway toward the back of the house, telling him about Patsy's narrow escape down the narrow alley. Calloway moved the heavy barrel with one shove and followed her to Patsy's side. Then he cursed when he saw her condition. The girl cowered back against the stone wall until Allie reassured her that Mr. Snake—Mr. Calloway—was a friend who was going to help her into the house.

“I am? Cap'n Jack'll have my hide.”

“Well, we cannot leave the poor girl here, can we?”

Calloway handed her his club, which she took awkwardly, juggling it and the kitten, who was loudly protesting. “Hush, you silly thing. You will have Fedder coming to investigate.”