No Place for a Lady (34 page)

She knew how to handle men like Hurdy and Ballast. They were known quantities. But these bizarre heroic gentlemen were wild cards, as dangerous to themselves as to her because they were unpredictable. Truly, what possessed a man to think he could simply arm himself with a gun and win out over lifelong players reared in the dangerous rookeries?

Fools, every one of them. Yet, she could not help feeling affection for them. Sighing, she turned toward Mr. Thompson with a rueful smile.

"I am sorry you were pulled into this nonsense."

"I am sorry I did not throw you into the carriage when I had the chance," he returned irritably.

"But then you would have missed your chance to meet one of the leading criminal figures in Southwark," she said blithely.

He turned toward her, his expression fierce. "I do not find this a time for humor."

She raised her eyebrows at his sour tone. "Mr. Thomp—"

"This nonsense cannot continue! You realize that, do you not?"

She shrugged to cover her annoyance. He was not taking this situation very well. Not very well at all. She gestured to the four thugs cutting off their exit. "Perhaps you could use your money and your title to order them to leave us alone."

"Your humor is entirely misplaced! I take great comfort in the fact that there is little of this in Birmingham. You will have much less opportunity for this... this dangerous game after we are married."

Fantine turned slowly, torn between conflicting emotions. Elation and anger coiled within her, but neither found an outlet. Instead she focused on his fundamental assumption. "You still expect to marry me?" Then she shook her head. "No, I mean you still wish to marry me?"

He hesitated, as if he too was surprised by his own thoughts. "Despite this, uh, diversion, you are still the most intelligent female I have met. You appeared to take great interest in my plans. I am an honest, kind gentleman and the best you can hope for given your particular situation."

"And what situation is that?" she said, her irritation growing by the second.

"Your modest dowry, your unremarkable bloodline." Then he cast a significant glance about him. "Your unusual hobby."

"Hobby! You make this sound as if I were playing with dolls!"

"And are you not?" he shot back. "What is this but a dangerous game to you? Something to alleviate your boredom? Why else would a gently bred female begin consorting with felons?"

"Why—" She cut off her own words. Her anger had grown to a boiling fury, but Mr. Thompson was not the appropriate outlet. The most appropriate receptacles were standing nearby, smirking as they followed her spat with her possible fiancé.

But she still had to disguise her intentions. With that in mind, she let her hostility clench her fists and heat her words as she advanced on Mr. Thompson, simultaneously moving closer to the nearest thug.

"Now listen here, you rich aristocrat. Yes, I do like you. And yes, I support your plans for your land. But this is no game to me, and I am no gently bred poppet with too much time on my hands! And furthermore..."

She did not bother to finish. Instead, she planted her fist square between the nearest brute's eyes. He went down like a stone, while she turned on the next.

It took barely two seconds before Mr. Thompson joined in the fray. He was perhaps not as quick as Chadwick, but she was grateful nonetheless. After all, they were fighting professional killers, and they were still outnumbered.

Chapter 18

Marcus rushed into the ballroom with unseemly haste. Or rather, it would have been unseemly haste if he were not stopped every few inches by another person asking what had happened to Mr. Wilberforce. Was he quite well? Had the strain of his new bill finally caught up with him? After all, it was coming to a vote next week.

He dealt with them as quickly as possible without seeming to rush. Yes, Mr. Wilberforce was quite well. Yes, Marcus supported the bill and hoped that it would pass unanimously. No, the MP was not injured, merely tired, and could someone please direct him to his mother, his sister, and Lottie's young charge?

But when he got to that question, the answers became both specific and vague. Everyone had seen them. In fact, he was told over and over that Mr. Thompson had been quite dashing as he carried poor Miss Drake across the ballroom. An announcement was expected within hours.

But as to Miss Drake's specific location, no one knew exactly. Some said the ladies' rearing room. Others said their host had found her a room upstairs. Some said they had left. In short, the only thing that everyone knew was that they thought it an excellent match.

"Oh, there are you are, Chadwick. How is Mr. Wilberforce?"

"He is fine. Only a little tired," Marcus responded without thinking, his gaze still scanning the ballroom. He had intended to find the host or hostess to discover if Fantine was upstairs, but neither person appeared.

"So you took him home?"

"Hmmm?" Marcus shifted suddenly, thinking he had caught a glimpse of Fantine, but it turned out to be another young lady, her dress garish, her gaze rather vapid. Definitely not Fantine.

"Wilberforce. Did you take him to his home?"

Marcus frowned, finally turning his attention to the gentlemen addressing him. "Lord Baylor, why are you so interested in Mr. Wilberforce's whereabouts?"

The younger gentlemen pulled his lips taut over his teeth in a semblance of a smile. "Wilberforce and I have been working closely together on his bill."

Marcus nodded. He had heard as much, but somehow he found it hard to believe. The two had been bitter rivals for Mr. Wilberforce's seat in the House of Commons. In fact, Baylor had nearly beggared himself during the campaign, but to no avail. Wilberforce had triumphed, and Baylor had not disguised his hatred of the man.

Now they were working side by side on the same bill? The thought was ludicrous, but Marcus himself had seen the two together on more than one occasion.

"I have something urgent to discuss with him," pressed Baylor. "We may lose support from Mr. Woods and his friends. I fear that only Wilberforce can keep them on our side. They have been wavering from the outset and will not listen to me."

Marcus nodded. True, that was a serious matter. But not serious enough for Marcus to reveal Wilberforce's location. At least not until he spoke with Fantine and understood the exact nature of the danger.

"You have not seen Miss Drake, have you? Do you know for certain if she has left?"

Baylor frowned. "I was with her when she hurt her ankle. She asked me to locate you, but you discovered her directly after. Beyond your spiriting Mr. Wilberforce away, I do not know what happened."

Marcus sighed. He would simply have to go to Lottie's home and hope that she was there.

"So Wilberforce is at home then? I can speak to him there?"

Marcus was about to answer when he saw a dark-haired man wander outside with a petite woman on his arms. He had forgotten that the ballroom spilled onto an extensive garden.

Could she be out there? He tried to think logically. Something had happened here, something that required Wilberforce's swift departure. If Marcus knew anything about Fantine, it was that she would not run home to safety. She would stay here to investigate. She would probably make sure the MP was out of danger, then would pretend to leave, before returning in secret. After all, she was a master at fading into the background. Why not slip away and change into a maid's gown?

But if that was true, then she could be anywhere!

He began to scan the servants, ignoring the footmen to concentrate on the maids. There were few in sight, but he peered closely at those he could see. Lord Baylor was completely dismissed from his thoughts until he felt a strong arm pull him around.

"Chadwick! Please, I must know where Wilberforce is. The bill is at stake!"

Marcus sighed. "You cannot see him tonight, but I believe he intends to dine at White's at one o'clock."

"Excellent," Baylor said, his voice filled with relief. "Woods will be there, too." Then before Marcus could respond, Baylor was distracted by a footman who offered him a single white sheet of linen paper. "Excuse me, Chadwick," said Baylor as he turned toward the servant.

Marcus was only too happy to oblige. Stepping away, he dismissed everything from his thoughts except locating Fantine. At the moment, he cared little for politics, little even for Wilberforce. He only had thoughts of finding Fantine. He had no idea what he would say to her when he found her. He merely intended to locate her immediately, assure himself that she was well and unmarried, and then decide what to do next.

With that goal firmly fixed, he headed for the garden.

Once there, he found nothing but beautiful globes of colored lights and a number of couples engaged in various stages of seduction. Most were quite proper, but he surprised two couples who had moved well beyond the edge of decency. It was nothing more than what he had expected, but the sight irritated him nonetheless. He kept imagining Fantine and Thompson engaged in such matters, and the very thought was enough to make him clench his fists in impotent anger.

He had nearly given up when he heard it. Soon, it came again.

"Mumph!"

Someone had just been hit. Hard. Marcus moved for the sound, and as he walked, the noises became more distinct.

A fight.

He looked around. It was the darkest area of the garden and completely deserted as far as he could see. Ahead lurked a dark alcove, shielded from view by tall hedges and a fence. Fantine had to be there. Who else would fight in the middle of a ball?

He nearly broke into a run. The urge to jump straight into the fray was overwhelming. But he could do more harm than good by throwing himself into the battle without assessing the situation first.

He had to move cautiously. He peered around the corner.

Even with his being prepared, the sight held him transfixed in horror for a moment. One man lay stretched out on the ground, groaning. Nearby, Fantine fought in the center of three brutes. She was a hellcat, raining blows with lethal fury. Next to her, Mr. Thompson added his own skill, but it was clear that his fighting style was too refined to triumph. He was a gentleman, used to boxing in a ring with polite opponents. These were street fighters using every dirty trick known to thief or criminal.

Fantine and Thompson were holding their own for the moment, but if the fourth regained his feet, they would soon be overpowered. Therefore, the woozy brute was Marcus's first destination. He crossed to the man in three short steps and knocked him unconscious with a single blow. Then he pushed his way straight into the fight.

"About bloody time," grumbled Fantine as she ducked a massive fist. "Is Wilberforce safe?"

"Yes," gasped Marcus, struggling to get his fighting wind. "Damn, this coat is tight," he muttered as he swung. Then, simultaneous with his blow, he heard the telltale rip of fabric. Lord, his valet was going to be furious.

"Good God, Chadwick," gasped Thompson from where he sparred with another villain. "You cannot mean that you support her nonsensical activities!"

"Support?" he responded, as he barely avoided a well-aimed blow. "No—"

"Yes!" That was Fantine as she grasped some mud and threw it at her attacker's eyes.

"No," Marcus repeated firmly. "I merely, er, surrender to the inevitable."

Fantine released an inelegant snort as she finished off her opponent. Thompson, on the other hand, appeared thoroughly incensed.

"It is unconscionable of you... to allow... such activities. That Hurdy character... said she was in. In what?" He punctuated his words with heavy blows to his opponent's shoulder and chest, but the man merely shuddered and continued his advance.

"I allow nothing!" gasped Marcus, landing his own blows, double time. "Fantine does as she wills. All I do... is mitigate... the damages." Marcus tripped over one of the fallen men, then quickly regained his balance. It took a moment more before the rest of Thompson's comments registered. "She is in with Hurdy? What exactly does that mean?" He dodged a meaty fist only to be caught on the side by the other.

"Do not be ridiculous!" gasped Thompson as he took his own blow right in the stomach. Fortunately, he used the movement to roll aside, and the next blows landed in the shrubbery. "You are a man, and she the woman. Take charge!" Then he stepped forward and began a furious assault on his villain.