Seducing the Ruthless Rogue (10 page)

“I can just imagine.
 
Suppose you take me to her.”

“Yes, Director.”
 

Within ten minutes, Mack stood outside the watchhouse.
 
The door was open and voices spilled outside.

“I need you to come with me, Miss Graham.”

“No.
 
I will not go, and you are not taking Mrs. Thompson or her daughter.”

“I can’t pick and choose who gets to leave and who gets to stay, Miss Graham.
 
If you end up in the watchhouse, you end up in prison.
 
Now, you can either come with me, or…”

“Or what, sir?
 
Are you going to beat two women and a child?
 
Because if that is what you are thinking, I should warn you that I can easily defend myself and my friends.”

“Are you threatening me?” the Runner blustered.

Mack decided it would be wise to intercede on the fool woman’s behalf at this time.
 
“What’s going on here?”

“What are you doing here?” Cassie demanded, standing in the center of the room, her hands fisted on her hips.
 

He studied her for a moment, taking in the fact that she did not look horrible after spending the night in a crowded watchhouse.
 
Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight knot at her nape.
 
The dress she wore was brown and looked worn and wrinkled.
 
Her garment was the only indication that she had spent all night sitting up in a crowded room.
 

“Mr. Chang came to me looking for assistance on your behalf.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fine,” he said and turned on his heel to leave the building.

“I’ll have no more of this,” the Runner said.
 
He reached behind Cassie, but did not retrieve the child that was hidden behind her skirts.

“I told you not to lay a hand on that child,” Cassie’s voice sounded feral.

Mack froze when he heard her words followed by a commotion behind him and the yelp of a grown man.
 
He counted to ten before turning around and seeing the Runner laid out on the floor with Miss Graham standing over him.

“I think you should come with me, now,” Mack said, brooking no argument.

“No.”

“I don’t think I heard you correctly.
 
I’m trying to save your neck from being stretched.”

“Please, Cassie, don’t get in trouble for us.
 
We’ll go with the Runner,” a delicate, feminine voice said behind her.

“No, Abby.
 
We all go, or none of us go.”

Miss Graham lifted her chin in a stubborn gesture he was growing used to seeing in their short acquaintance.
 
“Miss Graham, if you do not accompany me, you
all
will end up in prison.”
 
He watched her cross her arms in defiance.
 
At the same time, a little girl peeked timidly around her skirts.
 
He saw her big brown eyes, fringed with thick, dark lashes blink up at him curiously, and he could have sworn his heart melted just a bit.
 
“Who’s this?” he asked gruffly.

“This is Jemma, and this is her mother, Mrs. Abigail Thompson.”
 
He watched as Cassie stepped aside to reveal a woman with sunken cheeks and bruises beneath the same color eyes as her daughter.
 
He did a quick scan of her from head to toe and saw that her brown hair looked thin and listless, although tidy, but what truly caught his attention was the fact that she was with child.
 
“Mrs. Thompson’s husband was killed in a battle in Spain.
 
She has no more money to pay rent or buy food, and she has nowhere to go.”
 

“What do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to not be a bloody right bastard!” Miss Graham charged at him.
 
“They will put Mrs. Thompson in prison and Jemma in an orphanage.
 
Haven’t they lost enough already?”
 
Cassie implored.

“What did Mrs. Thompson do?”

“I tried to steal money from a gentleman, sir,” Mrs. Thompson answered on her own behalf.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.
 
Now, come with me, Miss Graham, you’re wasting my time,” Mack turned to leave, the word
bastard
ringing in his ears.

“Ask her why, or are you afraid to hear her answer?”

“It doesn’t matter.
 
Mrs. Thompson was caught stealing money, and she must be punished.”

“You are a cold-hearted—”

“Careful what word you choose to describe me.
 
I would suggest veering from the one you previously used if you value your health.”

“Do not threaten me.”

“Come along.”

“Not until you ask her.”

“Miss Graham—”

“Ask.
 
Her,” Cassie gritted through her teeth.

“And what were you going to use the money for, Mrs. Thompson?”
 
The woman sat down and looked as if she would collapse at any moment.
 
The little girl did not look much better.

“I just wanted to buy some bread for my little girl,” she answered, tears forming in her eyes.
 
“I know we won’t last very long on the streets.
 
I don’t even know that the babe will survive being born, but I just couldn’t stand one more night of hearing Jemma cry because her belly hurt from not eating.
 
I’m her mother and as much as I try, I cannot do anything about it,” she finished with a sniff.

“There, there,” Cassie said wrapping her arm protectively around the other woman.
 
“He won’t let anything happen to you now, Abby.
 
Will you, Director McKenzie?”

After a considerable pause, Mack looked at the two Runners who were having difficulty making eye contact with the women after hearing Mrs. Thompson’s story.
 
“I will be taking the two women and the child.
 
Tell your director I will stop by and explain everything later.”

“Yes, sir,” the men muttered.
 

***

Cassie knew she put Director McKenzie in a tenuous position.
 
In all honesty, she had been ready to disable the Runner and help Abby and Jemma to disappear.
 
She did not mind prison for herself, but she could not stand the thought of that little girl and her mother being separated after all they had endured.
 
Cassie had spent most of the night composing her next article in her mind.
 
She made notes in her journal she carried and could not wait to be in the quiet of her house so that she could think clearly and write the story.

“Director McKenzie, I want to…”

“Not now, Miss Graham.”

“But, I just want to…”

“Not
now
,” he ordered.

Cassie felt a calming hand rest on her knee.
 
She looked up and met Abby’s eyes.
 
The woman shook her head and gave her leg a squeeze.
 
Jemma sat securely between Cassie and Abby.
 
Cassie watched the little girl curiously study the man across from her in the tight confines of the hackney.

“Do you need to get anything from your rented rooms, Mrs. Thompson?”

“No, sir.
 
I’ve had to sell everything we had just to feed us.
 
We have nothing left.”

Mack nodded his head and looked out the window.

“Where are we going?” Cassie asked.
 
Mack remained silent.
 
“I think we have a right to know.”
 
He turned and met her gaze with a cocked brow.

“You do?”

“Yes,” she said, refusing to back down.

“I am going to seek assistance for Mrs. Thompson and her daughter.”

“Where?”

“Cassie, we will find out soon enough,” Abby said softly.

“He could at least tell us where we are going.”

“You are lucky that there is a child present, Miss Graham.
 
Now, if you don’t mind, I would prefer silence for the rest of our trip.”
 

His brogue filled the coach, and Cassie couldn’t help the affect it had on her.
 
What was it about this man?
 
He irritated her to no end, but at the same time there were things about him that intrigued her, called to her.
 
His aloofness was a mystery that she found herself wanting to solve.
 
Little did she know that the mystery surrounding him was about to grow even more perplexing.

The hack stopped in front of a large mansion in St. James’s Square.
 

“Wait here,” Mack instructed, as he left the hack.

“Cassie, please don’t push him any further.
 
He appears to be a man that one does not poke and prod as you are doing.”

“He is irritating.”

“He saved our lives.”

“Hmph.”

The carriage door opened and Director McKenzie stood there.
 
“Please come with me.”

“All of us?” Cassie asked.

“Yes.”

Cassie left the coach and turned to lift Jemma into her arms.
 
She stepped aside while Mack gently assisted Mrs. Thompson down.
 
The three followed Mack up to the house.
 
A raven haired beauty stood in the foyer awaiting their arrival.
 
They entered and the woman questioned in a low, husky voice, “Abigail?
 
Abigail Drummond?”
 

“Yes…” she replied hesitantly.
 
“Wait, Mikala Simmons?
 
Didn’t we have our coming out the same year?”

“Yes.”

“You know one another?” Mack asked.

“Not very well,” the woman named Mikala answered honestly.
 
“How long has it been?”

“Four years.
 
I married Andrew Thompson, a soldier.
 
This is my daughter, Jemma.”

“Hello, Jemma.
 
I remember Mr. Thompson.
 
He was a dashing young man,” Mikala said.
 
“And I married the Duke of Hawkescliffe.”
 
Mikala laughed as the other woman tried to hide her shock and curtsy at the same time.
 
“I know.
 
It is funny how life turns out.
 
I am sorry for your loss,” she added, sobering instantly.
 
“Mack told me that you are a widow.”

“Thank you.”

“Why did you bring them to the house of a duke?” Cassie demanded.

“I know that they will take care of Mrs. Thompson and her daughter until a more permanent arrangement can be made.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to, Your Grace.
 
I am a hard worker.”

“I have enough servants, Abigail.
 
You are to rest and take care of yourself.
 
We will work everything else out later.
 
You two come with me, and I will show you to your rooms.”

Before she followed the other woman up the stairs, Abby turned to Cassie and hugged her tightly, tears streaming down her face.
 
“My children and I owe you our lives.
 
I don’t know how to repay you,” she sobbed.

“Take care of yourselves, that is all I ask,” Cassie replied, hugging her back.
 
“I’ll be back to see you in a few days.”
 

“Mack, bring her on Wednesday when you come for your weekly family meal.”

“We’ll see.”

“It was not a suggestion,” the raven haired beauty said, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, sister dear.”

“Good.
 
Now, Abigail, it is all right if I call you Abigail, isn’t it?”
 
She waited for the affirmative.
 
“Good.
 
Abigail, Jemma, come with me, and we will get you all set up.
 
How does a nice warm bath sound?” her voice drifted away.

Cassie watched them ascend the staircase.
 
“They need to be seen by a physician.”

“Already being seen to.
 
Mikala will make certain they take care of themselves.”

“Good.”

Cassie allowed him to lead her back to the carriage without argument.
 
Once settled and back on their way, his words began to sink in.
 
“You called, Her Grace, ‘sister dear’.”

“Did I?”

“You know very well you did.
 
So, your sister married a duke?
 
She did very well for herself for you to not have any title affixed to your name.”

“She is only my sister by marriage.”

“But that means your brother is a duke?”