Captivated by the Viscount (The Captivating Debutantes Series Book 1) (10 page)

“ ‘Oh wad
some Pow’r the giftie gie us, to see oursels as others see us.’ Ah such a rogue
my Robbie Burns - but he did have a way with words.” Aunt Augusta

“I will not
marry the chit until a doctor has been and ascertained that she’s still pure.”
The Duke of Ketridge demanded.

“I....I can
promise you….” Richard stuttered.

“I don’t care
for the promises of an addled opium smoker. Anything could have happened to her
whilst she was
with friends.
There
are other women you know, but I
chose this chit because you
promised
,” he sneered the word slowly, “that
it could all be done quickly and discreetly. Time is of the essence. Now get
out of my bloody sight and bring a doctor back with you. A reputable one. I
don’t want some dirty quack fondling my betrothed,” he shouted. A door slammed.

Lucy moved
away quickly from the adjoining wall that she’d pressed her ear to, and primly
sat on the small chair by the window. It looked out on a side alleyway that
currently held two prostitutes talking together about their last customers –
loudly, and a man… Well, peeing up the wall.

Lucy wrinkled
her nose and desperately tried to come up with a way out. The door was locked
and the window had bars on it. The room was also on the upper floor of a rather
revolting tavern called the ‘The Dirty … something’, she hadn’t been able to
see the full name and she didn’t understand the picture on the sign.

She vaguely
thought she was in St Giles Rookery. She’d never been there before but from the
stories of it she imagined this was what it would look like. Richard had drawn
the curtains on the coach when they’d neared London, and when they stopped she
was bundled rather unceremoniously into the tavern. She’d only glimpsed a
rather motley group of men by the bar. She had thought to call for help once
they’d reached their destination but seeing the tavern customers’ she realised
a kidnapped woman was probably a daily occurrence. Even if they did ‘rescue
her’, they were likely to either rape her or sell her to a brothel – neither
appealed. Although nor did Ketridge, the Duke of Death.

When they had
arrived at the tavern Richard pushed her into the room and then left, locking
the door behind him. She’d searched for a weapon but the room was empty save a
dirty bed, the chair and a small table. She could see the side of a chamber pot
under the bed, so she was taking no chances with looking under there. Her only
option at the moment was to bash someone’s head in with the chair.

Unfortunately
Richard had arrived back with Ketridge and a rather large looking guard. That
made three men, and she was sure she could only manage one with the chair. Ketridge
had walked round her slowly.

He’d pinched
her face with a bony hand and demanded, “Look at me girl.” She’d wanted to spit
in his face but the desperation of her situation hit her and she felt scared
and helpless. She had looked up.

Ketridge’s
face was thin and haggard. His features were slightly deformed on one side and
on the other he had vicious scars. The signs of a dissipated life were all over
his face. He’d smiled at her look of disgust.

“I like her,
the miniature you sent did not do her justice.” He had let go of her face and
turned to speak to her brother.

“I don’t wish
to marry you…Your Grace,” Lucy had found the courage to say albeit in a
whisper. He’d turned round to look at her again.

“Will you
fight me pretty girl? I do hope so. I had a choice of women you know and you’re
costing me a pretty penny, but your miniature called to my heart,” he’d clasped
his hand to his chest in feigned delight.

“I will hate
you.”

All false
romance left his face and he’d grabbed her shoulders his nails digging into her
skin painfully.

“I don’t give
a fuck, do you understand. You’d best cure me, you’d best bear me a son, and I
don’t care if you fight me to your grave. In fact, go ahead; it will make life
so much more interesting.”

A sob had
caught in Lucy’s throat and his grip relaxed.

“I see we
understand each other. There is no escape. The parson is downstairs and once I
have spoken to your brother about a small matter we shall be married. I can
hardly wait my heart.” And with that they had exited the room.

Lucy buried
her head in her hands, she wasn’t prone to despair but she could see no way
out. ‘Buck up’ she could almost hear her aunt say, ‘it’s never as bad as you
think.’ Lucy let out a sob, this time it really was.

►▼◄

Jasper stood
watching ‘The Dirty Duck Inn,’ nonchalantly leaning against a cart. This must
be the place that Eloise meant. So far he had been propositioned by four
whores, two young men and been offered some ‘jewellery’, he wasn’t sure if that
was a euphemism. He’d had to enquire about the exact location of the tavern and
had found it to be in one of the worst streets on Seven Dials.

He didn’t
know if Richard or Lucy were here in the tavern, but it was precisely the type
of place where no-one asked questions. He’d sent Bill to Ketridge’s pile which
was nearer Kent just in case he’d taken her there. If there was no luck in Kent they were to meet at Lazenby’s house in London.

Jasper had
been known for his calm strategy in the army and he needed it now more than
ever. He’d stocked up on arms before leaving Danbury Manor. He had a knife in
each boot, a pistol in his breeches and another two knives secreted in his
waistcoat, he wasn’t taking any chances. He’d also remembered to bring his old
army cloak with him and thankfully that hid his fine clothing and pistol.

Before
another lanky looking woman who was staggering his way could try her luck with
him he headed to the inn.

The tavern
was crowded at the bar but a few dirty tables were strewn around. Jasper took
one with a wall behind him and facing the door. There were stairs to the right
of him which he guessed led to the rooms. The thought of Lucy being in this
stinking place made his blood boil, and he had to force his fist to unclench. A
barmaid even dirtier than the tables made her way to him.

“Wot can I
get ya ‘andsome?”

“Ale and
information.” He slipped a few coins on the table. A greedy hand grabbed them.

“Back in a
mo’ lovey,” she winked. Jasper looked around. A few men had looked at him when
he’d come in, but in these places questions or even a wrong look could get you
a knife at your throat so he was mostly ignored. He’s always had height as an
advantage and although slender he was physically extremely fit. Men often
underestimated his strength and although as a brash young man it had annoyed
him, nowadays he saw the benefit.

“’ere you are
lovey.” A tankard of what looked like slop was plonked down in front of him,
the liquid splashing over the table. The girl promptly sat on his lap
surprising him, and his arm came round her to stop her tumbling to the floor.
Stale breath whispered into his ear, “if you want information lovey, it’ll have
to be like this. I don’t want no trouble, just more coin.” Jasper could see her
point. If you betrayed a man here you would be looking at the sharp end of the
blade. Jasper forced himself to nuzzle her ear and clutch her scrawny arse in a
parody of passion.

“A gent, dark
blonde, brown eyes. Possibly with a girl, also dark blonde, smallish.” She
laughed girlishly and adorned his face with pecks; Jasper had to hold his
breath against the smell of rotten teeth and sweat. He could feel her hand
against his chest and he grabbed hold of it before it could search for his
money pouch. “Not yet my pet,” he murmured.

“Upstairs,
they’ve taken both rooms on the left. There’s another man as well, ugly bloke,
even I wouldn’t touch ‘im, looks like he’s got the pox,” she whispered, “but
you, I’d do you for free if you’ve time?” Thank god they were here was Jasper’s
first thought, but then he felt the barmaid’s other hand searching somewhat
lower and he pulled it away quickly; he honestly did not want her anywhere near
his extremities. The tavern it seemed was aptly named.

“No time my
sweet, but thank you for the information. I’d advise you to make yourself
scarce soon. One more thing, I need to make a diversion.” She looked none too
pleased until he pressed more coin into her hand.

“Man with the
red ‘air at the bar ‘ates Taggart, sure you can think of something,” she
whispered cryptically. “Now better make it look good then,” she grunted. He
didn’t know what she meant until she stood suddenly, grabbed hold of his beer
and dumped most of the contents on his breeches. “You miserly bugger,” she
shouted at him, “even I’m not that cheap.” With that she sashayed away with all
the arrogance of a countess. 

The patrons
had obviously seen it all before and didn’t bat an eyelid. This place was certainly
more entertaining than Brook’s, Jasper thought.

Just at that
moment the door opened and none other than Richard Lazenby rushed through the
entrance. Jasper pulled his hat lower and buried his nose in what remained of
his ale. Richard was trailing a rather harried looking bacon fed man who really
didn’t look as though he belonged here. He was wearing a grass green coat and a
yellow waistcoat for a start, and it stretched or rather failingly stretched
over a rotund stomach. The agitated man’s gaze darted left and right like a
rabbit faced with a fox, especially as a few of the men at the bar had started
whistling and catcalling.

So, a
kidnapped woman and a disgruntled barmaid had no effect on the patrons, but a
yellow waistcoat did – how wonderful.

Robert led
the man up the stairs, not even glancing at Jasper’s table. It was then that
Jasper saw the man was carrying a doctor’s bag. His blood ran cold. Had Lucy
been hurt on the way? It was the only explanation. He had to act now. He looked
up and the barmaid glanced his way, he nodded discreetly and she disappeared
into a back room.

Jasper rose
and strode to the bar. He wished he had Mainwaring here. Not only did the man
always have your back but he was able to start a brawl quicker than a whore
pulling her skirt up.  He’d heard that Mainwaring’s men used to bet on it.

“That barmaid’s
a bit feisty,” he slurred to the red headed man. Even seated, he was very…big.

“She’s mi’
sister,” the man replied. Perfect, thought Jasper.

“Bloody
whore.” The man turned to him and Jasper braced himself.

“Yep, aint
that the truth,” the man smiled a toothy grin at Jasper and then continued
drinking his gin. Jesus, thought Jasper, what would it take to insult the man?

“Perhaps you
can help me instead of her,” Jasper said suggestively winking at him. “I’m
looking for something a bit rougher?” The man turned his head incredulously.

“Yer callin
me a molly?” Yes that did it thought Jasper. Always insult a fellow’s manhood.
That must be Mainwaring’s trick.

“I’m sure we
can come to a mutual agreement.” Jasper added for good measure. The red headed
goliath turned to the man on his left.

“This cod’s
‘ead jus’ called me a molly.”

“Mustn’t like
‘is pretty face then if he wants a fist in it.”

Jasper
interrupted quickly, “but the man over there told me to approach you.”

“Who?” the
red head growled.

“Taggart, I
believe his name was.”

“Bloody
Taggart, I’ll bloody kill ‘im, and as for you, you back gammon player.” Jasper
feigned slightly to the left so although the fist hit him it was not with its
full force. Still the goliath wasn’t to know that as Jasper crashed into
several men and played dead.

He heard a
roared “Taggart” and the brawl started. Incredible, thought Jasper. It really
had been that easy. It seemed the bar was divided into two factions already and
a fight was a regular occurrence. Jasper tried to dodge the fists but suffered
a couple of glancing blows as he made his way to the staircase.

►▼◄

Lucy huddled
in the corner of the room.

“Don’t touch
me,” she cried out as the doctor made a move towards her.

“Now, now, be
a good girl. I’m not going to hurt you. Just lie back on the bed and it will
all be over in no time at all,” he said mopping his brow. It was clear he
didn’t like the situation either. Lucy narrowed her eyes.

“Touch me and
I’ll scratch your eyes out,” she snarled. Those very eyes went round in alarm.

“Well, I will
speak to your brother.” He exited the door and Lucy rushed over to listen.

“You never
told me the lady was unwilling Sir Richard. I really cannot condone…” His words
were cut off by the Duke.

“You’ll do as
you are told Leech or I will have my man John here wring your neck. What’s the
problem?”

“She won’t
lie down,” the doctor stuttered, “and she’s threatening to scratch my eyes out.
The woman’s mad in my opinion.”

“Or trying to
hide something,” the Duke muttered. “Lazenby, grab hold of her and hold her
down whilst the good doctor does his inspection.”

“I bloody
won’t, that’s my sister. I don’t want to see that.”

Fine time to
be squeamish thought Lucy.

“I really
don’t know why I don’t just kill you Lazenby, you’re useless.” Ketridge drawled.
“John, hold the girl down and let’s get this settled.”

Lucy backed
away from the door terrified. The men entered the room sans Richard who
apparently had become prudish. She backed away and the man named John came
forward.

“Now girlie,
come to me. You’ll get hurt otherwise.”

Lucy realised
her only recourse now was to scream as loud as possible to see if anyone cared
enough to find the source. She’d just opened her mouth when the sounds of glass
breaking could be heard downstairs. Muffled thuds, curses and furniture
breaking broke the tension in the room.

The duke
rubbed a hand over his face. “God, what now? I’ll be dead before I’m married,”
he cursed. “Lazenby,” he shouted into the hall. “What the hell is going on?”
There was no answer.