Rogue in Red Velvet (13 page)

She gasped and he stopped work. “What was that?”

“Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered.

His heart stuttered. What had they done to her? He swore to God he’d never allow such a thing to happen to her ever again. “Never, I swear it. I’ll never hurt you, Connie. Let me care for you now. When I get this thing off, I’ll help you to drink something.”

He peeled the stays away, wincing at the sight of the red welts where the bones had bitten into her skin. She should have a shift on underneath, which would have helped.

He lifted her gently and propped her against the pillows. “Now you can drink and then sleep.”

Food wasn’t wise just yet. She might vomit and he had no idea what drugs she’d ingested although laudanum played a large part. He knew the signs. Her drowsiness and her inability to concentrate, together with the red-rimmed pupils. People could choke to death in an opiate-induced sleep.

His hostess had left some clean clothes. He picked up the clean linen shift and helped her into the shapeless garment, manipulating her arms as if she was a marionette. It whispered over her poor, abused flesh.

He removed the stopper and sniffed the contents of the carafe on the small table next to the bed. It held barley water flavored with lemon and honey. He gave a grim smile at the reminder of nursery fare and the incongruity of finding it here but he poured a glass and gave it to her.

She was watching him. He sat on the bed, wrapped one arm around her shoulders and leaned her against him to hold the glass to her lips.

“No!” She jerked away. Some of the drink spilled but he held her firmly and talked to her. “This is Alex, sweetheart. Remember me? Would I give you anything you couldn’t trust? Drink the barley water and then sleep.”

“Sleep,” she murmured. He held the glass while she drank. She felt warm against him but after undoing her garters and rolling the stockings off her legs, he left her in the shift. It was too transparent for his liking, misting her fine, pearly skin with a glow that in other circumstances he’d find seductive.

The stays had hidden nothing and he’d had to sit in that damnable room, biding his time, while those bastards ogled her and bid on her as if she were a horse on the selling block.

He wanted to blind all of them, bury a blades in their eyes, one by one, just for looking at her, degraded as she never should be. Cold fury simmered under his skin but he couldn’t set it free for her sake.

He wouldn’t let his violent thoughts mar the way he treated her. When she’d drunk, he lifted her, settled the pillows and threw back the covers before laying her back down on the sheets.

He was gently covering her when someone knocked on the door. He left her in the bed and opened the door cautiously.

Mother Dawkins stood there. “She all right?”

“Come and see for yourself.” He opened the door wider.

The madam had removed the cloak, hat and gloves she’d worn for her journey, revealing her glorious gown for tonight. She specialized in finery to the edge of irony and tonight was no exception. Scarlet gown and yellow petticoat, both fabrics the finest silk, neither the right shade for the other. Her cap was a profusion of lace, the lappets touching her shoulders. She handled Connie gently, putting her hand over her forehead and then tucking her hair away from her face. “She’ll be fine. A day or two and she’ll be just like new. A big sleep and she’ll feel much better, more herself. After that, a good meal. Do you want her to stay here?”

Her accent had turned more natural, less heavily accented and Alex wondered, not for the first time, where the lady’s origins lay. A respectable man’s daughter, perhaps, making the best of what she had, like many of the whores in the Garden. This one had risen high, ran her own establishment, which proudly proclaimed it owned the reputation of being the best whorehouse in London. He respected that ambition in a woman and he never made the mistake of underestimating the redoubtable Mother Dawkins. “If it’s convenient.”

Dawkins gave a wry grin. “Hardly. You’re taking up a good bedroom here. I could rent this by the hour. But I’m only charging you two night’s rent. For the favor you’re doing me, I’d like to give it you but business is business.” Plus the extra incentive.

Alex smiled, the first one since he couldn’t remember when, relief washing through him. He’d achieved the first part of his plan. Now to decide what to do next. “I know. I’m only too glad to pay. When she wakes I’ll send for her maid, then we’ll go.”

Mrs. Dawkins nodded. “She needs somebody to sit with her. Best it’s someone she knows.”

“Where’s the other girl I bought?”

She shrugged. “I took her to Bow Street, since my doctor’s not available right now. Magistrate Fielding kept her and promised he’d look after her.” The doxy chuckled. “He was outraged when he saw who was at his door. You know how he feels about us harlots. Wants to reform the lot of us.”

Most people knew the Fieldings’ opinion on the harlots who thronged the area where they held sway. Magistrates at Bow Street, just around the corner, they dealt with a lot of people from the trade.

Alex shrugged off his heavy evening coat and laid it across the back of the only comfortable chair in the room, then helped Mrs. Dawkins sit, using his best courtly style. She loved what she called gentlemanly behavior and it wouldn’t do any harm to butter her up a bit.

He took the hard, wooden chair. He didn’t much care which one he used. “I’d have paid good money to see you and Fielding go at each other.” Mother Dawkins lifted a penciled brow. “Not like that. The verbal exchange would be enough.”

He didn’t like to think of anything else. The ample Mrs. Dawkins and the equally ample magistrate would make a formidable coupling. Perhaps it was just as well that they were on opposite sides of the legal fence. “So what did he say?”

“He got the gist when ’e saw the girl in Gosset’s arms. She was out cold by then. I told him the truth. There was an auction going on and they were drugging the girls near to death. Appealed to his chivalry. Told him that I was laying information because I didn’t want no trouble on my side of the Square. A law-abiding bawdy-house, we are. He laughed, damn his eyes. But he knows if he raids my establishment, he’ll find nothing he shouldn’t.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Not that her house had been raided for a long time now. She paid her dues and the officers left her alone. But Fielding was as near incorruptible as a magistrate could be, so he was the right man to go to in this case.

“So I said to ’im I want that woman out of that house. Sooner or later somebody’s going to die there. He asked me how I found out and I said you was passing my house with the skinny maid in your arms and I took charge. I told him your name, since you said you wanted me to.” She scratched her upper arm and grinned at him, perfect pearly whites gleaming in the low light of the two candles Alex had left burning in their ornate silver holders.

Alex nodded. “I’ll confirm your story if he asks. Hopefully, he’ll think it was just the one girl I saved.”

“What about the other gentlemen there?”

“I know their names. I’ll deal with them.” How, he didn’t yet know, but a plan was slowly forming in his mind.

He got rid of Mother Dawkins’s thorn in her side, or rather, thorn next door. That was his bargain. She would give Connie sanctuary if he helped her get rid of Cratchitt and her unsavory practices. And her competition.

But for now, all his concentration was on Connie.

“Fielding kept the girl but he got one of his maids to put her to bed and watch her. After getting a man in to bear witness about her condition. I told him I don’t hold with abducting respectable girls for the trade. He said he thought we were all evil but he’d fight one battle at a time. There’s going to be a hell of a row next door. This room’s at the front of the house. You can watch it from the window. Do you think the auction’ll go on much longer?”

“I doubt it. But there’ll be fun and games after. Enough for the authorities to find.”

She made a sound of disgust. “I can’t understand ’ow she got a house like that. I mean, the rougher trade’s on the other side of the square and by the piazza, in the smaller places and the shacks. These establishments cost a fortune. I only employ the best here and I’m barely holding on. But the gentlemen who come to these houses want a bit of class. Not just a roll in the ’ay.”

Alex loved listening to her. To the customers she was the madam who arranged the fun and games, who ruled her kingdom with an iron rod. But her girls were never anything but lively and the doctor visited every week to ensure they were clean. “When does your doctor come?”

“The pox man?” She waved a beringed hand, the multi-colored jewels glittering in the candlelight. “You shouldn’t need ’im. Your young woman’ll come round on her own.”

“You know I’ll go after the man who had this done to her, don’t you?”

She nodded. “Just keep the trouble away from my house.”

“Oh I mean to,” he said grimly. “It won’t happen here. I owe him, and it won’t be easy and it won’t be fast. And he won’t do this to anyone else, ever again.”

“Good to know,” she said. “I’ll try to find out who sponsored Cratchitt. Of course, she could have had a nest egg saved up but she didn’t come from anywhere I know.” She shrugged. “Which more or less rules out London. Could be a country madam come to try her hand in the city. In any case, the extra money your mark gave her wouldn’t have come amiss. He might have paid for tonight’s fun and games. Though I’d like to know what he’s going to those lengths for.” She yawned hugely but didn’t cover her mouth.

“Connie was inconvenient to his plans but he didn’t want to kill her. That could catch up with him one day. So he tried to disgrace her. He’d made sure enough members of society were there tonight for the word to get around.”

Jasper Dankworth didn’t have the money to pay for a venture like this. Barely enough to take advantage of it. Alex had a sneaking suspicion that he knew who was funding this venture. He needed to speak to his cousin. Julius knew much more than Alex did about the Dankworth factory.

“So he’s won the first round,” the madam said.

His determination firmed. Jasper Dankworth wouldn’t win any more. “And thanks to your help, I’ve won the second. If Fielding can get Mrs. Cratchitt to lay evidence against him, I might even help her.”

Mrs. Dawkins gave a harsh laugh. “Don’t bank on it. She’ll be in Bridewell before the week’s out.”

“Not if Fielding gets her.”

Connie stirred and moaned.

Immediately Alex tended to her, soothing her with soft murmurs of, “I’m here, you’re in safe hands now,” and she settled down again. Once he was sure she was fine, he returned to his conversation with the madam. “Fielding doesn’t believe in sending doxies to Bridewell. A whore’s academy, he calls it.”

She gave a grim smile. “He might have a point.”

A commotion erupted outside the window. Covent Garden was never quiet but this cacophony overtopped the usual sounds of revelry. Alex got to his feet and went to the window. And smiled.

Several burly men were hammering on the door of the house next door. If Alex stood to one side of the window, he could see them very clearly. The sound of their pounding echoed off the buildings ringing the piazza, attracting the attention of the roués and whores lounging around. Their raucous cries added to the row.

If it were he, Alex would have people around the back of the house. Since Mother Dawkins had a vested interest in seeing the house taken down, she’d willingly provide access if they needed it.

The door opened from the inside and the men poured in, shouting.

The powerful scent of lily-of-the-valley indicated his hostess had come to stand by his side, “I’m surprised you’re not downstairs supervising,” he said.

“I’m here with you. You can vouch for that, right?”

He might have known it wasn’t his scintillating company or concern for Connie that moved Dawkins to linger here. She wanted a witness to confirm she had nothing to do with this raid. Mother Cratchitt might have friends who would object to another of their kind peaching.

Out of the front of the house streamed half-dressed doxies and clients but none that he’d seen in the large saloon on the first floor. They’d pay to leave by the back door, too influential to become involved in this. Or they’d stay where they were and leave when the fuss died down.

The crowd jeered as the doxies left, formed a column to stop the officers taking the whores away but so far, they kept the proceedings in good heart. No trouble. The mob could change its mind in a flash, turn from good natured to vicious killers, rampaging through houses and streets.

Alex addressed Mrs. Dawkins. “You have your bullies ready?”

She waved a hand, vaguely indicating the door. “Oh yes. All but two downstairs and a few hired chair carriers to bulk them up. We’re well protected here.”

He nodded. Safer than trying to leave this house with Connie in the middle of this rabble. If necessary they would barricade the door but he doubted anyone would get this far. “We have a good view from here. Do you know any of the girls?”

Mrs. Dawkins peered closer. “Some. One or two single workers with their own lodgings. Probably looking for a bit more work where somebody else pays for the wine and the food. One or two new girls. I might look into them once they get out but they’ve got to be good to work here.”