Lady Rogue (6 page)

She wanted to tell him who she was, that they had met before, but the impersonal way in which he was looking at her, the disgust in his expression at the thought of what she was, strangled her words.  Her eyes  darted to and fro, seeking an escape, and was in that instant that she saw Robbie coming up from behind. Dawn shook her head violently, trying to give him a sign.  She could not, would not steal from
this
man. But Robbie was upon the gentleman before she could blink an eye, exerting his lightning speed and feather touch.  She saw him extract a heavy gold watch from the man's pocket. With lightning speed he found a stickpin and a pocketbook. However, it was not until Robbie reached for the leather satchel that the gentleman sprang to action.

"Oh no you don't you young scroundrel!"  The gentleman she knew as G.F.S. lunged out with a punch that landed squarely on Robbie's jaw, sending him squealing.  Effortlessly he push
ed her brother against a wooden wall of the quay, cutting off any avenue of escape.  "You'll not be getting these!"

"Please, Sir.  'E didn't mean any 'arm, 'e didnt'." 

"Don't plead for him.You're in on it too.  I know your game.  Well, we'll see what the law has to say.  I have a particular loathing for women who use their...uh..charms to lure a man on, only to send him to his death in the Thames.  I'll see that both of you are apprehended.  It's one thing to steal quite another to..."  With a groan he slumped forward and Dawn stood in frozen horror, feeling his pain as if it were her own.  Black John had descended on the gentleman from behind, hitting him on the head with a large wooden club.

"Ye've killed him yer 'ave!"
Dawn's eyes were fiercely accusing as she bent down to wipe the blood from the man's head.               

"If we 'aven't we'll bloody 'ave to now.  This is the kind o' toff wot won't rest until 'e sees us all 'ang."  Black John fished in his coat for a knife, wielding it with dead
ly intent as he crouched down.

"No!"  Stealing was one thing, murder another.  Dawn would have none of it.  Besides, this man had shown her kindness when she had been in a pickle, had even given her a
ride in his carriage.  With reckless daring she threw herself in the way of John's knife.

"Get out o' the waiy!  I'll gi' yer the back o' me 'and, I will!"  He brandished his fist threatening
ly, used to everyone cowering.

"Noooooo!  I won't go.  And wot's more
, if ye 'arm 'is one I'll peach on yer, Black John.  I swears I will."  Clenching her jaw, determined to stop at nothing, Dawn held her ground. "Awaiy wi' yer now."

"Argh..."  In vexation
, John threw up his hands.  Dawn's gasped outburst was attracting dangerous attention.   Several heads were already turned their way. Thinking quickly, John picked his victim up and slung him over his shoulder.  "Never could 'old his whiskey, this un.  Nothing fer it but to take 'im 'ome," he said loudly.  To Dawn he bristled, "yer've won, at least fer the moment.  Come on."  Moving into the shadows, John trudged along the docks with Robbie and Dawn following close behind.

She had held
Black John at bay for the time being, Dawn thought.  But how long would her obstinence grant G.F.S. his life?

Chapter Six

Dark clouds smothered
the moon, strangling any beams that might have shed light on the small procession that made its way along the boards of the quay.  Dawn followed closely behind Black John as he headed towards an old deserted warehouse.  Usually that dilapidated old wooden building sheltered his ill-gotten gains, but tonight it held a more ominous purpose. Dawn shuddered to think of it.  Somehow she had to stop Black John and find a way to set the gentleman free before the night was over.

"Come on!  'Urry up.  'e's heavy.  Move yer feet!
"  John Dunn struggled under his burden as he issued the order.  "Stop yer doddling, for if we're caught I promise ye I'll maike yer pay."

"I'm 'urrying as fast as I can!"  That was a lie.  In truth she was moving as slowly as she could
, hoping for the first time in her life that they would be intercepted by a beadle or night watchman.  If that happened, John would be so interested in saving his own skin that perhaps he would leave his victim behind.

"Hurry Dawnie!"  Robbie a
dded his voice to the command.

"I am!  I am!  Bu
t it's slippery, it is."  That much was true.  It was high tide and the waters of the Thames sloshed over the wooden boards of the walkway.  Worse yet, in the fog she couldn't see where she was going.  Nevertheless they arrived at the warehouse sooner than she liked.

"Don't just stand there loike a sta
tue, me girl.  Open the door!"

Realizing that there was nothing to be done except to obey, Dawn
made as much noise as she could going about the task.  The hinges were rusty, the wooden door warped from the constant damp, thus the door creaked and groaned as it was opened.  Grumbling, Black John pushed past her.

"Loight the lamp, Rob!  Be quick about i
t." 

Noises in the darkness--
a shuffle of feet, a loud muffled thud, swearing, the scratching  of a match. Dawn squinted as the black void was suddenly disturbed by light. The lantern cast a soft glow on the large wooden beams of the low-ceilinged room and on the bales, barrels, and bundles crowding the room.  Black John was accumulating quite a profitable hoard, Dawn thought sourly.  She watched as he dropped his human bundle to the wooden planked floor.

"'E's still out loike a light, 'e is.  Yer must 'ave given 'im quite a knock to 'is noggin', John."  Robbie sounded a bit wary.  Like Dawn he wasn't one to commit murd
er.  "Do yer think 'e's......"

Dawn held her breath
, her blood chilled as she looked down at the still form.  Oh, she didn't want him to be dead!  She rushed forward, but John blocked her way.

"If  'e is, so much the better for us.  Trouble, with a capitol "T" is wot this one spells, ye blokes..  Let me see....."  A muffled groan put end to the suspense.  "'E's alive.  Ti
e 'im up before 'e waikes up!"

Dawn helped Robbie in the task, mainly in hopes that she could somehow keep the knots from being  tied too tight.  When that was done she gently prodded the bump on his head.  The bleeding had sto
pped, a clot plugged the wound, but a large lump was forming. Tearing off a strip of her gown, dipping it in the cool water of an old rainbarrel outside the door, she carefully tended him.

"Poor bloke.  I never would 'ave wanted this.  If only I'd known it would be you...."  Her eyes swept over him as she gently probed his injury.  He was such a strikingly handsome man, even in his unconsciousness.  Just looking at him was strangely exciting.  It was as if for the moment he belonged to her   "That bump is as big as a goose egg, it is," she whispered in sympathy.  But at least he was alive, for the moment at least.  Warily she looked over her shoulder to ascertain John's whereabouts.  As she might have predicted
, he was sitting with Robbie, scrutinizing their newly acquired treasures.

"Ack!  After all we went through there ain't nothin' in this satchel except some silly pie
ces of paper with drawings on ‘em.” John was saying.  “Not worth a farthing!"

“Worthless and here I’d thought we’d found something really valuable.”
With a snort of disgust,  Robbie crumpled the drawings and tossed them to the floor.  "But look at 'is watch.  Solid gold, it is." Robbie turned it this way and that in the lantern light, admiring the workmanship.

"Everything about 'im speaks o' quality
, and they can be dangerous, they can.  'At's why I know we got to do 'im in."  John's eyes were slits of anger as he turned towards Dawn.  "Ye 'ear 'at, ye silly twit!  He's a rich toff.  Who knows 'e might even 'ave ties with the Prince o' Wales.  If so, 'e's the kind who will squeal, who won't rest until we're 'anging!  Do ye want yer fine bro' here to swing?"

He knew he'd touched a soft spot
, but still Dawn was unrelenting.  "I'll 'ave no part in murder, John!  Nor will Robbie.  We'll taike our chances  If the bloke meets 'is end, ye'll 'ave to pay the consequences.  I don't want it on me conscience."

"
Ye’ll think conscience, me girl. They won’t care none about ‘at when ‘e tells ‘em wot we done. All they’ll think is ‘at yer a menace. They’ll get yer off the streets, all roight. They’ll put yer in prison they will.
Newgate
."  

Dawn tried not to flinch as she answered, “Better ‘at, I’d saiy than going straight to ‘ell when I die.” Still
, the very idea of Newgate set her hands to trembling. It was the very place that every thief feared.

“Argh....... “
Black John grumbled but it seemed despite his bold talk he was loath to actually do the deed, now that his temper had cooled a bit.  Sighing with relief, Dawn settled down to watch over her charge.  Defenseless, he brought out all the protective instincts within her. She promised him silently that she would do everything in her power to keep him safe.

"'E's got
to be rubbed out," she heard John say to Robbie behind his hand.  "For some reason yer sister's sweet on 'im. Threatened me, she did if I silenced him.  But it don't maike a pauper's pinch o' difference. If 'e leaves 'ere alive, if ‘e opens ‘is mouth, ‘e’ll ave every Bow Street runner, beadle and watchman on the trail.   Do yer get me meaning?"

"Aye."  Robbie folded his arms across his chest.  "But I ain't gonner be the one to do it, Johnnie.  I gots me principals.  Are you of a mind to raise yer 'and to 'im?"  Robbie laughed at the answerin
g scowl.  "No, I thought not."

"'Its one thing to kill a gent in the heat of an argument but while 'e's 'elpless is a different thing.  There is,'owever, those wot ain't so squeamish who
we could 'ire to do the job."

"Som
eone else to slit 'is gullet?"

"Aye!  Shall we taike ourselves to the Devil's 'Orn and find us such a bloke?"  With much guffawing and backpatting
they decided on just that, thinking to be solved of the problem. 

"We're going to
Will Neb's flash house, to....to celebrate our fine catch," Robbie announced to Dawn.             

"Oh?" 
Let them go
, Dawn thought.  She'd welcome the relief from their chattering presence, and while they were gone she'd free their prisoner.  That thought caused her mouth to tremble in a smile. Her expression was quickly read by unwelcome eyes, however.

"Wipe that smile off yer faice, Dawnie me girl.   I'm not fool enoug
h to leave yer behind.  I’d ‘ave to be the village idiot to gi’ yer a chance ta free ‘im. Ah, no, me girl. Come on, yer going with us, that ye are.”

“No!” she quickly hid her disappointment. “We can’t leave ‘im behind. All alone.”

“We can’t leave ‘im all alone,” John mocked. “We can and we will!” As she cast a worried glance at their captive, he added,   “I doubt the toff will be going anywhere.  ‘E’ll be roight ‘ere ter welcome us when we return. We'll maike sure of that. In the meantime, I’ll be watching you.” He guffawed again, giving Dawn a push, then said to Robbie, "Tie 'im to the support beam, Rob me boy, and we'll be off.  We'll settle our little
problem
when we get back."  With an exaggerated wink Black John opened the door and the little group was off.
             
Well, let him think he's bamboozled me
.  Let him think he’s won.  Dawn knew that at the first opportunity she would be back, and when she returned she'd set G.S.F. free.  No matter what the consequences, it was a thing she had to do.

Pain throbbed unceasingly through Garrick Seton’s head, tormenting him back into consciousness. Slowly opening his eyes, he was startled to find himself in unfamiliar surroundings. His pulse quickened and he stiffened as he tried to get his bearings. Where the devil was he? An old cracked oil lamp cast an eerie glow, bouncing slivers of light off the splintered walls. A windowless dwelling. A storehouse of some kind, he thought hazily. In an effort to accustom himself to his whereabouts, he let his eyes wander over the room.

“What the….?”

As he turned his head, another stab of pain shot through his head, and he  tried to move his hands with the intent of massaging his temples.  He gave an outraged cry when he  he realized  they were tied together.  A tall support beam ran from ceiling to floor, and it was to this that he was  securely connected.  So he was a prisoner, then.

Little by little the events that had brought him to this end formed in his mind.  Memories swirled about as he pieced together the events of the night. He'd been
robbed
!  There was no other word for it.  The thought made him seeth inside.  He'd been set up by that painted little strumpet who'd batted her eyelashes so artfully.  He'd been conned by a painted little tart practicing the world's oldest profession. He, who always kept such trollops at great distance.  He'd been trapped. It didn't matter that he'd become her victim unwillingly.

"Bloody damn!"  He was coldly furious with himself. He'd always been cautious with women of her kind   Now he was here, trussed up like a Christmas goose
, and all because of some thieving little strumpet. He was in a murderous mood thatwas not helped the least by the meanness of his surroundings.

Lying sprawled on his back
, he wondered what the hour was.  Late enough no doubt to have missed his meeting.  Gad!  After all his admonitions.  Now they would lose the merchant’s business for certain. Not that he wasn't thankful that he was still alive!  He'd read in the papers about those who were not so fortunate. 

From the corner of his eye he could see his satchel and raised his head for a closer look.  When he moved he felt as if twenty hammers were pounding simultaneously in his head.  In frustration he lay back dow
n but not before he glimpsed the crumpled drawings littering the hard planked floor.  Ollie's  architectural drawings.  Scattered about like so much trash. It fueled his  outrage and made him all the more determined that he would make the blackguards pay.

When I get my
hands on those scoundrels.....
  His head felt as if they'd split it wide open.  Perhaps they had, he mused.  He tried to rise to his feet, balancing against the pillar,  but dizziness rendered him helpless. In frustration he slid back down.

The flames of the oil lamp sputtered and sparked and threatened to go out leaving him in total blackness.  His life wafted just as precariously before his eyes.  What were they going to do
to him?  Set him free? Ha!  He sincerely doubted it.  They'd tied him up for some ominous reason.  More likely they had it in mind to kill him when they returned.  Well, he'd see about that.  If they thought they'd chosen a lamb who would go peacefully to his slaughter, they were dead wrong!  He'd fight like a lion with every ounce of strength he possessed.   Aye, he'd give them a fight, but first he'd play possum.  When they came back from where ever they were now, he'd pretend he was still unconsious.  He wouldn't blink, wouldn't move an inch.  Hopefully they would untie him before they slit his throat and he would have the chance to retaliate for what they had done to him. 

Have patience
, he scolded himself.  They'd reappear eventually, and when they did he'd be ready for them!