The Clarendon Rose (38 page)

Only to be stopped by a small crowd of onlookers who had been watching the scuffle with rapt attention.
 
Tina groaned to herself, wondering what she would now be up against.
 
Fortunately, she still had the knife she had taken, and she held it at the ready, blade pointing up from her tight grip on its hilt.
 

But, just as she was moving into a crouch, the audience erupted in a burst of applause.
 
“’Ere, that wos a good one, Miss.”
 
“Yeh, that’ll show those two!”
 
“Think they’re bloody cock a th’ walks, they do.”
 
“Good t’see ‘em taken down a peg!”

A small, bold fellow darted forward and kicked one of the felled bullies, hard.
 
“That’s for wot you did to me ma!” he said, adding another kick to his first.

Something shifted in the crowd, and suddenly, it was surging forward, converging on the two men as Tina watched in horror.
 
She knew better than to try to stop the frenzy of the small mob, but she also doubted the two men would survive the rough justice of the streets.

An old woman hobbled over to her, leaning heavily on her stick.
 
For a few moments she stared at the frenzied crowd, nodding in satisfaction.
 
“About time somefin was done ‘bout those two. Bloody ‘orrors, they were.”
 
Then, she glanced at Tina.
 
“Ye fight like th’ best of us, but ‘ardly look the part, if ye don’ mind my sayin’.
 
Wot’s som’un like you doin’ in this part ‘a town, then?”

“Looking for a hack to take me back home, in fact,” Tina said with a tired smile.
 
“Are there any to be hired around here?”

“’Course.”
 
The old woman flashed her a wooden-toothed grin.
 
“Keep yer knife ‘andy, though I expect word’s probably already spread ‘bout ye an’ ye’ll be left alone.”
 
What followed was a string of simple directions that would get Tina to a main road, where, according to the old woman, there were dozens of hacks to be hired, for those who could afford them.
 
She gave Tina a thoughtful look.
 
“Can you?”

Tina sighed.
 
“I have no money, but can promise payment upon my arrival home.”

The old woman paused a moment, watching her.
 
Then, reaching into the filthy folds of her dress, she pulled out a few copper coins.
 
“’ere, take these.”

Tina shook her head, shocked and overwhelmed by the offer.
 
Though she dressed better than many, the old woman was still in clothes that were just this side of being rags, her hair messy and matted, her face filthy.
 
“I couldn’t, but thank you.”

The old woman shook the coins.
 
“It did me ‘eart good t’see those two taken down a few pegs, and by a slip of a gel no less.
 
Take’em!
 
I’d not give more’n I could afford, and it won’ be enough in any case.
 
Bu’ it might persuade one of ‘em t’let ye into the ‘ack in th’first place, wiv your fine clothes and the promise of more at the end.”

Tina knew the old woman was right.
 
“I’d like to repay you.
 
How will I find you again?
 
What’s your name?” she asked as she closed her palm around the farthing coins.

The old woman shook her head.
 
“I’d pay as much fer good entertainment, Miss, and that ye’ve given me.
 
I’d say it’s best if ye don’ come back this ways anyway.
 
So be off wi’ye—and just remember me well sometimes.
 
I’ll certainly remember yew and the dressin’ down ye gave those two.
 
I expect it’ll be talked of fer years t’come and I can say I ‘elped ye hafter t’ get back ‘ome.”

Tina smiled down at the bent figure.
 
“Well, thank you, then.
 
I wish you well.”
 
And, with a final nod, she was on her way, still holding the knife in one hand and the copper coins in the other.

The old woman had been right—word had already spread.
 
As she followed the instructions she had been given, Tina saw that she attracted many curious gazes and whispers, but none accosted her.

Still, she continued to rush, in case Stan hadn’t managed to dissuade Pete from following.
 
Hopefully, the crowds gathered by the alley would have slowed them, but she couldn’t count on that.

Tina emerged from the dim streets into the wider thoroughfare with a breath of relief.
 
She removed her Spencer jacket and used it to wrap the dagger.
 
Then, she set about finding a hack to bear her home.
 
The first two took a look at her tattered, stained clothes and shook their heads before she even had a chance to speak.

But, the third fellow she approached looked at her and smiled sympathetically.
 
He accepted the coins she offered and shrugged.
 
“I’ll take ye.
 
Me ‘orse needs a bit of a run anyway,” he added.
 
“Where yew ‘eaded?”

Tina told him, promising that full payment of the fare would be forthcoming.
 
He raised his eyebrows, eyeing her dubiously, but shrugged and helped her to board.

As Tina settled into the seat, she wondered how she must look, that the first two had refused her and this third somehow assumed she would be a charity case.
 
It was true that ladies of quality often passed their clothes to their abigails once they had tired of them and the abigails often sold them in turn.
 
Her clothing alone was therefore not necessarily an indication of her station—particularly not in their current, battered state.

Still, she would be home soon, or so she hoped.
 
And then, she would be able to change and bathe—her hand still felt coated in a residue from the grease in that one man’s hair.
 
But soon, she would be clean again.
 
On that happy thought, she sat back and allowed herself to relax a little as the hack bore her over the city roads towards home and Clarendon.

The thought of seeing him caused the smile to fade slightly.
 
It would be glorious to see him again, but all the same, she wondered what kind of reception she was likely to get from him, given the way they had parted.

“He used a decoy.”
 
Clarendon didn’t even bother to keep the weary anger from his voice.
 
He slumped in the chair behind his desk, while Sebastian sat opposite, frowning at him.
 
“The five Archer mentioned must have split off into two groups.
 
While two men sneaked off with my unconscious wife, one of the other three posed as an unconscious woman and was borne about in as conspicuous a fashion as possible.
 
So, all our promising leads were false.”

“Bloody everlasting hell.”

“Pepridge must have consciously selected completely nondescript thugs to actually bear Tina off, because that group disappeared without a trace,” Clarendon continued.
 
“And we even ended up losing track of the more conspicuous group for a time, when they began making their way in and out of every damned public house between here and the East India docks.
 
At that point, we had more leads than we knew what to do with because there were more than a few trios consisting of two men and a woman, making their way about those streets.”

Still, Clarendon had sent men to follow up on each of those leads, in the hope that something might come of it.
 
Early morning had found him and his staff banging on the doors of hovels and apartments in highly questionable parts of town.
 
But, nothing.

Now, he sighed.
 
He was a mess, he knew—unshaven, clothes askew.
 

“We’ll have to send word, old man.”
 
Sebastian’s comment interrupted his thoughts.

“You think I don’t realize that?
 
What bloody good are those men of yours anyway, if they can’t track down my wife?”

“I’m asking myself the same question, Clare.
 
But there’s not a damned thing I can do to rectify any deficiencies in their training at the moment, is there—much though I might wish it otherwise.”

Clarendon didn’t bother responding.
 
After all, it wasn’t really Sebastian he blamed anyway.
 
If he hadn’t been so determined to deal with this situation and shield Tina from the gory details of Pepridge’s past, this might never have happened.

Instead, he’d now have to write the letter that signaled his own capitulation and Pepridge’s victory.
 
It would be altogether worthwhile, if it meant that Tina returned safely.
 
But, he knew Pepridge too well to believe that the other man wouldn’t double cross them as soon as he was free.

They’d have the man followed, of course, but there was nothing to say that someone of Pepridge’s skill wouldn’t lose his tails within hours of his release.
 
Still, if this was his only hope of keeping Tina safe, Clarendon would do it.
 
And by God, if you try to trick me this time, Pepridge, I will track you down and kill you myself.
 
I swear it.

Sebastian stood.
 
“You write that letter and get some rest.
 
My men are still making inquiries among our contacts in the rookeries—I’m going to join them and see what kind of progress they’ve made.”

Once Bastian had taken his leave, Clarendon dropped into his chair and contemplated the bitter taste of defeat that lodged in the back of his throat.
 
Then, he dipped his pen and began the letter that would authorize the release of his enemy—and, he hoped, lead to his wife’s safe return.

But, even as he wrote, all he could see was Tina’s dark eyes and her contagious grin.
 

The spring of her curls and the smooth curves of her body against his skin had haunted him through the night, as he walked through the dimly-lit rabbit warrens and questioned anyone who might have even the slightest inkling of her whereabouts.
 

Even now, muzzy-headed with exhaustion and dejection, he thought he could smell a lingering hint of that blend of lavender and the exotic feminine musk belonging to her alone.
 

He was fully prepared to disregard her mistrust, her lack of faith—anything, just so long as he could be with her again and experience the intoxication of her beauty through all his five senses.
 
And, more importantly, experience her vibrant, lively personality—her absurd humor and penetrating intelligence—in short, to be with the presence that was utterly and uniquely Tina.
 

The idea that something might have already happened to her hardly even bore thinking about, but his mind kept returning to it.
 
What if Pepridge’s men had been attacked and she had been taken—injured or possibly even killed?
 
What if her mind had been damaged and even now she was wandering the streets without any notion who she was or where she belonged?

He swallowed tightly as he sealed the note.
 

The thought of her lying dead in an alley filled him with such profound horror and desolation that in those moments, he knew Tina’s life and happiness were more important to him than his own.

He rose and left his study.
 
As he gave one of the footmen instructions as to where to direct the letter, he wondered if he’d ever see his wife alive again.
 

I swear that if she comes back to me, safe and alive, I will give her whatever independence she requires, even if it means dissolving our union,
he vowed silently.
 

Just then, the front door opened.

The door might just have well have been made of stone, for the amount of effort it took Tina to push it open.
 
Fatigue had overwhelmed her as she journeyed across the city in the hack, and now, even the short flight of stairs to the entrance had seemed a monumental climb.
 
She had insisted the kindly driver wait for his full payment, but despite the fact that he seemed impressed by the grandeur of the residence, he regarded her tattered appearance dubiously.
 
Still, he waited patiently enough as she trudged up the stairs.

Now, she stepped inside, not bothering to look around as she paused on the threshold and sighed deeply.
 
Home at last,
she thought wearily, only then glancing up to see Clarendon, staring at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she was actually there.
 
His haggard appearance and rumpled clothing in no way detracted from his good looks, instead making him seem more brooding and dangerous than ever.
 

Several of the staff were hovering about the front foyer.
 
They all stared at her, their customary impassivity supplanted by expressions of astonishment.
 

“Would someone please be so good as to go down and pay the hackney driver who brought me here?
 
I didn’t have enough money for the fare, but he was kind enough to—“

Her words shattered the stillness of the tableau.
 
The butler, came forward.
 
Tina stepped away from the door and he opened it.

“Pay him well, Chalmers, for he was very kind to me.
 
And offer him a position if he wants one,” she added.
 
An able man of good heart and integrity could always find a place in the household.
 
The butler nodded before disappearing outside.