Downtime (35 page)

“Something of interest. Catherine Eddowes has been to the shop several times and in the company of a gentleman who matches the descriptions given out by the press.” He stopped walking and excitedly grasped my wrist. “He bought back some things of hers for her, and Mrs. Willowby noticed quite the handful of notes in his purse.”

“Yeah?” Aware of footsteps and shadowy movement behind us, I kept track of it and kept Ezra talking. “Did she add any details to the newspaper descriptions, by any chance?”

Ezra eyed me with a curious tilt of his head. “Morgan, what is it?”

He was way too alert to my body language. I took his arm and kept walking. “Don’t look around. We’re being followed.” He started instinctively to turn and I tightened my grip. “Don’t look. Keep smiling, like we’re just having a friendly chat. We’re going to walk to the end of the street and go around the corner and when they catch up, we’ll get better acquainted with our new friends.”

A perfectly workable plan, I thought, until a carriage rolled into our path from the cross street and George Blanchard stepped out. If there was any doubt as to what was on his mind, the gun in his hand effectively eliminated it. Sour as ever, he gained a whole new holier than thou aura at the sight of us together.

“In Whitechapel, no less. Well. I didn’t wish to believe it, Ezra. Even of you.”

Itching to go for my own gun, I waited. He wasn’t going to shoot us. He intended to leave the dirty work to the hired goons behind us. They’d grown to five in number; five and a half, if you considered one was as big as an ox.

Ezra appeared oblivious to them and, as usual, to the weapon trained on him. He stared at Blanchard with pain he couldn’t hide. “Charlotte. How is she?”

Gun arm extended and none too steady, George advanced on Ezra. “You hurt her and humiliated her and you have the nerve to ask me how she is? She despises you.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said as I stepped between Ezra and Blanchard. “George is the one who despises you, Ez—because you took her attention from him.”

“Have a care,” George snapped. “I could shoot you and no English court would hang me for it.”

“After all the work of recruiting your own gang of hoodlums? Seems a little impractical. What’s the going rate for taking down a couple of innocent men these days? Or do you keep these guys on retainer?”

“It’s a job that needs be done but once, and the cost is not so dear as you’d imagine.” George reached a gloved hand to the carriage door. “I told you I would make you regret what you’ve done to my family,” he said, barely a quaver breaking his voice now. “I said you would pay for the humiliation and you make it all the easier, spending your days crawling through the mud with common thugs. A pretty tale to get around after they find what’s left of you. Certainly one that Sir William will never live down.”

Just as he’d understood the gist of what I’d said, so I caught on to his meaning. He expected the press to have a field day after Ezra was found beaten—or dead—in an alley in Whitechapel. But that wasn’t going to happen on my watch. I slammed an elbow into a soft stomach behind me, then turned to follow it with a right to the jaw.

The blow, which would’ve taken down any average-sized guy, had this one only staggering. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another grinning goon approaching and I hoped Ezra was having better luck than I was. I didn’t mind the occasional tussle. It kept me in shape, the trade-off being a black eye or swollen lip for a day or two. I was more concerned for Ez. I kind of doubted he’d had a lot of experience in hand-to-hand.

As George scurried into the safety of his carriage, trusting that the job he’d paid for would be done without his supervision, I ducked a wild swing and landed a solid jab to the big guy’s gut. He doubled over and I finished him off as the smaller guy lunged for me. I suspected these guys had fortified themselves on George’s dime before joining him in the hunt. It took only a fist to the jaw to drop assailant number two face down on the cobblestones.

Confident he wouldn’t be getting up in the next few minutes, I looked around for Ezra. He was still on his feet and holding his own with the help of his walking stick. He’d already laid out one man on the pavement and was closing in on a second. But three were a little too much for him. The biggest got Ezra’s arms behind him while the other, bleeding from a scalp wound, came at Ezra with the intention of returning the favor.

George must have made it clear where he wanted the worst of the damage done. I was across the alley before the man’s beefy fist drew back to deliver it. Getting a handful of his collar, I shoved the muzzle of my Glock behind his ear. He sucked in a breath and tried to turn his head to look at me, a move I discouraged with a little more pressure.

“Ever seen what a bullet does to a skull at such close range?” Taking his wheeze as a no, I nodded. “It’s messy, trust me. Now, I know yours isn’t housing much of a brain, but I figure you’d like to keep it intact. Right?” I yanked him away from Ezra and gave him a hard, encouraging push. “Get the hell out of here.”

I would rather have had him arrested, but I knew the cops would’ve dragged me and Ezra along too, something neither of us could afford to mess with. As soon as he took off running, Ezra broke free of his captor and shoved him in the direction of his cohort. The guy stumbled, then sped off after the other without even a backward glance.

Sheathing the gun, I turned back to Ezra. “You all right?”

“I think so.” As he straightened up to prove it, he winced and put a hand to his side.

“Never better, hmm?” I unbuttoned his vest and slipped a probing hand inside. He didn’t resist, but asked what I was doing. “Checking to make sure nothing’s broken.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You’re not a doctor—are you?”

“No, but I’ve had enough ribs broken to recognize one.” Or the effects of one, which I was pretty certain Ezra wasn’t feeling. Bruised, maybe, but not broken, thank God. I buttoned him back up. On the last button, he caught hold of my hand and searched my face.

“You put yourself between me and that gun.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t going to shoot us.”

“Then why did you?”

“Part of my job.”

He gave my hand a brief squeeze before letting go. “Always on the job, are you,” he asked softly.

“You want me to admit I have a personal stake in keeping you alive?”

He fairly beamed. “You were quite magnificent, you know.”

“You weren’t too bad, yourself.”

“Show me that strategy of yours?”

Dear God. “I don’t think you’re ready to become a lethal weapon just yet, Ezra.”

We headed home with some trepidation. I’d lost count of how many times we’d come crawling into the house covered with bruises and dried blood. Kathleen and Derry might not question Ezra’s sanity, but they had to be questioning mine.

Derry, just in from the garden, stopped with an exclamation at the sight of us and it brought everyone running.

“Okay, guys, just stay calm. We’re fine, both of us. Nothing to worry about. Just a little scuffle.”

Kathleen frowned as she looked us over. “Are you in the habit of seeking out trouble on a daily basis? It’s time spent in that part of town, no mistaking. Thick with thieves and ruffians—”

“And George Blanchard,” I put in, figuring a little clarification at this point would go a long way toward ending Kathleen’s lecture.

“Charlotte’s brother?” Kathleen shook her head in disbelief. “He did this to you?”

“No, he paid five disagreeable fellows to do it for him,” Ezra said, a wince betraying him as he shrugged off his overcoat.

“You must go to the police,” Kathleen said.

“Devil take the police.” Derry whipped off his gardening hat and threw it down on the table with his gloves. “I’ll give George Edward Blanchard the thrashing he deserves,” he said and started for the door.

I swung around and got a handful of his suspenders. “Whoa there, Bronson. Ezra’s already lost a bundle, thanks to me. We don’t want to add to his financial woes.” And I sure didn’t want to see Blanchard shoot Derry, because then I’d have to hunt down the son of a bitch and kill him, myself.

Derry reluctantly acquiesced, and Ezra flashed me a thankful look. “If you will all pardon me, I have a party for which to dress.”

Kathleen looked even more dismayed. “You’re still attending?”

“I told Adelaide I would.”

There was the stubborn soul I’d gotten so fond of. I flung an arm around his shoulders. “Is he hardheaded or what?”

Ezra, with amused reproof, wriggled loose to go upstairs. Kathleen watched him with anxious eyes and the moment he was out of earshot, turned to Derry. “You mustn’t let him go. They will cut him most terribly.”

“My dear, don’t you think he knows that?”

“Then you must go with him. You cannot leave him to face it alone.”

“I’m going with him,” I told them, and they looked at me with varying degrees of horror, Derry’s the greater because he knew the whole truth. “Come on, guys. Ezra’s tougher than you think. He knows he’s walking into the lion’s den, but at least he’s going down fighting.”

And I was going to be beside him with every swing he took.

I didn’t
expect Adelaide’s little get-together to be any fancier than Jem’s dinner party. But when the road widened into a vista of gardens and mansions that put Jem’s chateau to shame, I realized I could be shortly hanging out with Queen Victoria, herself. The thought made me grin.

Ezra, with an instinct that had nothing to do with his psychic ability, turned away from the endless row of poplars along the road to look at me dubiously. “You do intend to behave yourself tonight?”

“That depends on how you define ‘behave.’ I’m not going to let anyone trash you. Treat you badly,” I clarified as his brows came together in puzzlement. “Let me put it this way. If they behave, I will too.”

He didn’t look reassured. I leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder, and patted his knee. “You think Jem’ll be at this thing?”

“I daresay. Lady Marchmont tends to invite anyone she finds entertaining. It would have taken a greater scandal than a broken engagement to cause her to revoke my invitation.”

“Yeah? How about rumors of indecent behavior?” I murmured, gliding my hand from his knee to more northern regions.

He seized my wrist. “I would like to remain presentable. And yes, indecent behavior of the sort you’re meaning, if it isn’t kept strictly under wraps, does get a fellow left on the fringes.” He studied me. “You’re still suspecting him, aren’t you?”

“Jem?” I shrugged. “I think he’s a less likely candidate than your average poor Joe in Whitechapel. Of course, there is the little matter of his friendship with Sid. Obviously he’s not averse to hanging around in the poor part of town or hooking up with someone who just wants a meal ticket. Even you have concerns about his emotional stability. And he’s a big guy. He could easily overpower a woman, silence her, and cut her throat….” I sighed. “Sorry. Not a cheerful subject just before a party.”

“You needn’t apologize for being dedicated to your work. It does appear to be rather closely tied with who you are. And I rather like who you are.”

“Usually I don’t apologize for it,” I said, realizing just how true that was. I couldn’t account for Ezra’s ability to get things out of me no one else did. There was a connection between us that was one of the better ones I’d ever made. Certainly one of the better ones I was destined to lose.

Holland Park, I decided as I stepped out of the cab, was where I wanted to go when I died. The lantern-lit gardens in the twilight seemed as pristine and serene as any corner of Heaven. Ezra had gone too far inside himself to notice any of it. I made an attempt to draw him back out. “This Adelaide Marchmont, she sounds okay. How long have you known her?”

“She attended my christening.”

“Oh yeah? So she knows your folks pretty well too, then.”

“She was a friend of my mother’s.”

“Until she met your dad?”

Ezra smiled. “No, it was my mother’s passing that ended the friendship. Not anything my father did.”

So much for distracting him from his worries. “If they toss us out, want to go run through the fountains?” There were three round pools with marble nymphs posed playfully beneath the arching sprays. A week ago the question would have made him look at me as if he thought I were nuts. Now he laughed. I felt reassured to see the cheerful Ezra of old under that mask of uneasiness.

“If they toss us out, it may be into the fountains,” he observed, with a glance around the garden as if only now noticing it. I turned my attention to the imposing stretch of marble stairs that swept to a terrace and a long row of garden doors open to the cool evening. Inside, I could see the glitter of chandeliers and hear the chatter of voices. I wasn’t, under normal circumstances, easily intimidated, but this scene disturbed me. Though Adelaide didn’t sound too judgmental, she might succumb to peer pressure and denounce us under the icy glares of London high society.

I’d dealt with this kind of crap before. In another time and place, I wouldn’t have put up with it. But I didn’t think Ezra was ready to jump a hundred years of prejudice to stand up for his rights just yet. His rights weren’t even an issue in a world that considered him too sick to be allowed to live free. I sensed Ezra wanted to take their reaction with a similar grain of salt, but I knew how hard that would be. When all the people in your life turned against you as one and treated you with revulsion—if they acknowledged you at all—it wasn’t something you could just shrug off. For his sake, I decided to put on a charming smile and my thickest skin, keeping in mind that time would eventually bring at least the beginning of acceptance.

As we climbed the mountain of steps, I slid him a glance. He was straightening his tie with fumbling fingers. “It’s not too late to get the hell out of here,” I whispered, poking a conspiratorial elbow in his ribs. “You already have family who loves you for who you are. You don’t need this pack of hyenas passing judgment on you. They don’t even really know you. And I can think of half a dozen better ways to waste this evening,” I added with a wink.

That brought his smile back briefly, and we went on inside. At first we attracted no notice; then either my hearing suddenly failed or there was a definite lull in the chatter. Above the conversations that struggled on, I heard someone call to Ezra. A woman I could only assume was our hostess parted the crowd like a battleship breaking the waves. Snow-white hair piled high on her head and white silk billowing about her ample figure, she had to be pushing eighty but moved as energetically as a woman much younger. As imposingly as she shimmered in her silk and diamonds, her warm, green eyes welcomed us as if she were greeting her own grandchildren.

“It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it? I was afraid that fog would never lift. Come along, come in and have something to eat. Ezra, you are entirely too pale. A failed romance is not the end of the world, dear. You’ll understand that better when you get to be my age, of course. Youth takes everything so to heart.”

As we hurried to keep up, Ezra introduced me, and I got in a brief hello before she launched into a recitation of the evening’s entertainments. “You missed the loveliest piano recital, gentlemen, but never fear. Mrs. Boudreaux has agreed to an encore after supper. Ezra, my dear, are you quite up for a table rap this evening?” She smiled at me. “The poor dear man. So talented, but his constitution is not the strongest. I’m afraid it’s the curse of the psychically gifted. Poor John Leslie, he’s dying of consumption, they say. I guess one is not meant to live in two worlds at once.” She patted Ezra’s arm. “No doubt it was due to that winter he spent in St. Petersburg. One will tempt fate if one winters in Russia. And I daresay you’re not eating well. You men will quite forget to eat and drink when love goes awry. Some champagne will hearten you. Some champagne and, I think, a bit of duck. Come right along.”

We came right along, into a crimson-wallpapered dining room brightened by six chandeliers. There was enough silver on the table to reverse the debt of several third world countries and maybe enough food to feed all the inhabitants therein. Others were filtering into the room to partake, but I didn’t see any familiar faces and hoped I wouldn’t. If I saw George’s face, I might feel obliged to rearrange it, and I didn’t want to spoil Adelaide’s get-together. She left us on our own and sailed off to make sure her other fragile guests were stuffed with food and drink.

When she’d gone, I let Ezra see my grin and he made a face at me. “I know precisely what is going through that mind of yours,” he said. “My constitution has always been adequate. She has that impression because Father would never let anyone see me until I was old enough to understand that one does not converse with spirits in public as one would converse with the living. He would simply tell visitors I was ill with one thing or another.”

“Chatting with ghosts as soon as you could talk?” I handed him a glass of champagne.

“From earliest memory,” he admitted wryly, and led the way to a corner sofa where we could sit and eat and, I noted with satisfaction, keep an eye out for any potential trouble from certain interested parties.

The food was good; twenty-first century good. Besides the duck, we had our pick from chicken, goose, and lamb, sauces and salads, soups, and an array of desserts. During dinner, Ezra greeted several people and was greeted without any hint of open hostility, at least to my eyes. But he hadn’t cheered up since our arrival, and I wondered if he saw more in their reactions than I did. After we had eaten, we wandered in the direction of violin and piano music drifting from another room. It was a journey interrupted by a familiar face I’d been expecting, and another I hadn’t.

“There you are,” Jem said triumphantly, throwing one arm around a startled Ezra. “I knew you wouldn’t stay away.” He nearly drained the glass in his hand, then kissed Ezra’s cheek with moist lips. I didn’t know how much champagne the guy had downed, but I had the suspicion at least one empty bottle could be attributed to him.

Sidney grinned at me with a knowing wag of his head. “And Morgan. A very naughty fellow, from what we hear.”

“Yeah?” I grinned easily back. “And just what do you hear?”

“Why, my dear, that you are compromising Ezra quite as thoroughly and unrepentantly as I’ve compromised Jem.”

Jem sobered at that and flashed a look of warning at Sid, who would not be cowed.

“Now, Jem, we are all men of the world—”

“Not all. Ezra is still a gentleman. He cannot yet enjoy the luxury of bad manners.”

“Ezra is a gentleman, and Morgan and I are not?” Sid was more amused than outraged. He linked arms with me, no doubt to imply a unified front of degenerates. “One wonders just how many gentlemen one must bed before one is allowed to come out in society.”

“One ought to do it,” I mused.

Sidney smirked. “One, indeed. An especially delicious one.” I thought he referred to Ezra, considering the baleful look with which Jem speared him; but Sid didn’t even glance at Ez, instead leaning closer to me to loudly whisper, “It’s not every man what’s pricked a prince.”

“Enough.” Jem’s usually sharp blue gaze was clouded by alcohol and something else—pain. He offered a weary apology. “One requires amusement in this miserable life, though it’s begun to seem a game no longer worth the candle.”

If Jem’s disapproval had ever kept Sid in line, it didn’t any longer. “If it’s a candle you fancy, there’s always a penny to pay. And I am not so dear to keep as some.”

“Go to hell.” Jem finished his drink and shot Sid a look of disgust before turning away.

“Go to hell?” he called as Jem stalked off. “My love, I was born there.”

Ezra turned to Sid in exasperation. “Will you drive him to utter ruin?”

“He doesn’t need my help,” Sid answered with a mild shrug. “He was well begun before he ever plucked me out of the gutter.”