Kissing Cousins (9 page)

He had handled this whole affair badly. He ought to have come to Brighton by himself and left Samantha at home with her aunt. Yet he knew the trip would not have been half so exciting without her. It was being with a lady that lent the proceedings the air of an escapade.

He undressed and got into bed. The sheets were clean so far as he could tell. The feather tick and pillow formed a cloud of softness beneath him. He was about to doze off, when he heard some sound from Samantha
’
s room. He was instantly out of bed, feeling in the darkness for his trousers.

When she closed the door on Salverton, Samantha found she was really remarkably hungry, despite a good dinner. Mr. Sykes had said he would get her tea. Had he remembered? She delayed undressing in hopes that he would. Barring the tea, she remembered a small bag of lemon drops in her reticule. Not very satisfying, but better than nothing. She popped one into her mouth.

Sykes
’
s tap at the door was so soft, she hardly heard it. She tiptoed forward to avoid disturbing Edward, next door. There stood Mr. Sykes with a tray holding not only a teapot, but two cups, a plate of bread and butter, and a nice wedge of Stilton cheese.

“
How lovely!
”
she said softly, and stood aside while he brought the tray in.

“
I brought two cups, in case him next door would like to join you.
”

“
Oh, I don
’
t think so. He
’
s gone to bed. At least I heard the bed squawk.
”
Mr. Sykes was looking a question at her.
“
Perhaps you would like to join me, Mr. Sykes?
”
she suggested.

“
I don
’
t mind if I do,
”
he said.
“
Just a quick cup before starting my rounds of the hotels.
”

“
We
’
re keeping you up very late.
”

“
Nay, five or six is late. Any time before Mr. Cock crows is early.
”

As there were no chairs, she poured the two cups of tea and they took them standing up.

Sykes sipped noisily, then said,
“
Did you know Wanda has a daughter?
”

“
No! I didn
’
t know she
’
d been married. In that case, at least she cannot get Darren to the altar.
”

“
She never was married so far as I know. A by-blow, not Sir Geoffrey
’
s. The girl is called Amy Bright.
”

“
Wanda never said a word about her. Of course she could hardly tell us, when she was posing as a respectable lady.
”

“
You
’
re too green by half, my girl. Wanda
’
s no lady, and neither is Amy.
”

“
What age is Amy?
”

“
Fifteen, and already hard at work.
”

“
Poor child. What does she do?
”

“
She
’
s following the family profession, isn
’
t she? Amy
’
s a hostess at Mike Skelton
’
s gaming hell, over on Queen
’
s Road, when she isn
’
t otherwise occupied. What I was thinking
—
Amy might know where her mama is.
”

“
We should ask her!
”

“
Aye, we should. It could save a deal of scrambling about town. Grab your pretty bonnet and let
’
s go.
”

Samantha looked uncertainly at the connecting door to Salverton
’
s room. No, she wouldn
’
t ask him to go along. It did occur to her, however, that Mr. Sykes might go alone. She suggested it to him.

“
My first thought was to spare you, Miss Oakleigh,
”
he said, gazing at her from a pair of eyes as beautiful and unfeeling as star sapphires.
“
The devil of it is, a fellow isn
’
t allowed into Mike
’
s place without a lady. It
’
s for couples only. The ladies feel uncomfortable with too many men leering over their shoulders. It
’
s a decent sort of place. I
’
ll see no harm comes to you.
”

“
Thank you, Mr. Sykes,
”
she said, and picked up her bonnet and pelisse. Sykes smiled appreciatively while she put on the former, and helped her on with the latter. Of course he had lied about the necessity of Samantha
’
s accompanying him, but he meant her no harm. He did it as much to goad that toplofty Salverton as anything.

Before they left, he picked up two slices of bread and butter, wrapped each one around a wedge of cheese, and handed her one.
“
No point wasting good food,
”
he said. Samantha agreed, and was happy he had thought of it.

Salverton had realized by this time that Samantha was speaking to someone in her room. He could hear movement and the low hum of voices. He assumed it was Mabel. There had been some mention of tea, but on the off chance that that jackanapes of a Sykes had inveigled his way into her room, he hastened his dressing.

His knock at the door brought no response. He opened it and looked into a perfectly empty room. In her eagerness to leave, she hadn
’
t even extinguished her lamp. He saw the teapot and food on the washstand. He saw the two used cups, and knew Samantha had not crept out into the night alone, or with Mabel Sykes. She was with that scoundrel! When he found them, he would wring both their necks. But first he had to find them
—
and it was four pence to a groat that Sykes had taken the carriage.

Salverton snatched up his jacket and hat on the run. He pelted into the road just as the carriage turned the corner to Castle Street. He ran after it, shouting, and managed to keep it in sight to the next corner, where it turned east on the Western Road. Sykes would take the Dyke Road north, out of town.

The bastard was kidnapping Samantha! Salverton was gasping for breath from running, and all the while the carriage was drawing farther away from him. He cursed himself for having taken her to Sykes
’
s lair.

He
’
d have to report it to the constable. Bow Street would be called in at once. Strangely, it was not the shame and disgrace of it that bothered Salverton, but the realization that Samantha was in danger. Why the devil hadn
’
t she called out for help? She knew he was right next door.

He paused a moment and stood, rubbing his chin. The answer was staring him in the face. Samantha hadn
’
t been kidnapped. The baggage had gone off willingly with her Mr. Sykes, not realizing what a villain the man was. The thing to discover was where Sykes was taking her. At best, it would be to some d
é
class
é
party or gaming hell. That would be the lure he held out to get her away from the house in any case.

Mabel would know his usual haunts. Salverton walked quickly back to the lodging house on Stone Street, in the front door, down the hallway, down a flight of stairs to the kitchen area, from which Mabel had appeared. He called loudly as he went.

Mabel Sykes came scrambling out of a room off the kitchen.

“
‘
Ere!
”
she exclaimed.
“
What
’
s going on, mister? Why are you shouting to wake the dead? We got paying guests to think of.
”
In her right hand she had a firm grasp on a butcher knife, which she kept under her pillow at night.

“
Where
’
s Sykes?
”
Salverton demanded.

“
He was taking tea up to you and your piece, the last I seen of him.
”

“
He
’
s gone off in my carriage with my cousin. Where would he be taking her?
”

“
Lord love me, is that all? I thought you was robbed, at least. Now, how should I know where they
’
ve gone to? Jon is friends with every rake and rattle in town. It
’
s the touch of quality that gets to him every time, mister. Your bit o
’
muslin was very ladylike, for one of them. He
’
s very particular in his flirts, is Jonathon. How did she get away on you? You
’
ve hardly had time
—”

“
I have reason to believe your nephew used some stunt to get my cousin to go with him. Where is he?
”

“
You can ask till the cows come home, mister, and neither you nor me nor the doorknob will be any the wiser. I don
’
t know where he
’
s gone, and that
’
s a fact. I ain
’
t his wife or his ma. He
’
s a grown man. He does what he likes. But I
’
ll tell you this, you needn
’
t fear for her safety, one way or t
’
other. Jon don
’
t have to force them. He treats a lady proper. Just go on back to bed, and if she
’
s a mind to, she
’
ll be back waiting for you by morning.
”

On this speech she turned to leave. After taking one step, she turned to look back over her shoulder.
“
You wasn
’
t fool enough to pay him in advance, by chance?
”

“
He
’
s been well rewarded,
”
Salverton replied, stinging from that thoughtless and well-deserved
“
fool.
”

“
Well then, he
’
s gone to a gaming hell, hasn
’
t he? Try Mrs. Nesbitt
’
s on Golden Lane, or Meg
—
No, he
’
d not take a lady there. He could be at Mrs. Minchin
’
s.
”

“
He headed north up the Dyke Road.
”

“
The Dyke Road, you say? That
’
d be Mike Skelton
’
s place, then. Odd he
’
d take her there. There
’
s no shortage of lightskirts at Mike
’
s place.
”

Salverton fumed in silent rage.
‘“
Where is it?
”

“
On the Dyke Road, just north of the cemetery.
”

“
Is there a mount here I can ride?
”
Mabel
’
s gooseberry eyes emitted a curious gleam, half fear, half greed. Salverton drew out his purse and extracted a golden boy.
“
It
’
s urgent,
”
he said, fingering the coin enticingly.

Mabel reached out and snatched it from his fingers.
“
Caesar. A gray gelding hitched to the tree in the backyard. Gelding hasn
’
t tamed the brute much. Mind you have it back before morning or Jon
’
ll have my head on a platter like the martyr I am.
”

Salverton didn
’
t reply, but pelted out the door and around to the backyard. He heard a whicker and followed it to a spreading mulberry, where he discovered a well-groomed gray, instead of the tired jade with a spavined back he expected to see. The saddle hung conveniently nearby on the lower branch of the mulberry tree. After saddling the mount, he had some difficulty convincing Caesar he meant business, but eventually he was in the saddle and on his way north. It took every ounce of his strength to control the powerful animal.

As he entered the Dyke Road, he left polite Brighton behind. Ahead lay a dark, lonesome path. He increased his pace to a gallop. The mount
’
s hooves thundered over the metaled road. A cold moon lent an eerie air to the countryside. Wind stirred the trees that edged the roadside. Beyond the trees lay barren fields and an occasional small dwelling. Salverton regretted he hadn
’
t brought his pistol with him. It was ideal highwayman country. But the big gray set such a fast pace, he doubted anyone could outride him. It was a magnificent mount.

Before long he spotted the spire of a church on his right, and on his left a cemetery. The headstones and monuments shone with a wan and ghastly light. Mike Skelton
’
s gaming hell was not far beyond, according to Mabel.

Salverton wasted no time getting past the cemetery, then he slowed to a canter. After half a mile, he spotted a low, spreading house nestled among a bank of sheltering bushes. There was no sign to indicate it was a public establishment, but the number of lit windows suggested it was more than a private residence.

A young stable boy popped out of nowhere.
“
Can I stable your nag, mister?
”
he asked.
“
‘
Ere! That
’
s Jon
’
s Caesar, that is.
”

“
What of it? Is Sykes here?
”
Salverton asked.

“
Aye, he just drove his rig
‘
round to the back hisself. Nipcheese! Too clutch-fisted to pay for a driver, and him with a lady, too.
”

Salverton flipped the helpful lad a coin. He dismounted and handed him the reins, then strode angrily to the rear of the building. The carriage he had hired was there, empty. The back door of the house was locked, but that, of course, would provide no impediment to Sykes and his passe-partout. Salverton
’
s gorge rose higher as he returned to the front door and walked in without knocking.