The Bride of Devil's Acre (4 page)

“We need him,” Devil said, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a pistol.

“What are you doing?” Finn asked, watching as Devil tucked the gun into the small of his back.
 

Reaching back into the desk, Devil pulled out a knife and slipped it into his boot. “I’m coming with you.”

The door opened and Carver strode in.
 

Finn shivered. A rush of foreboding slithered up his spine, and he would have sworn the room chilled.
 

“You looking for me, boss?”

Finn wondered how it was the term “boss” always sounded like a curse coming from the man’s lips.

“We’ve got a job to do,” Devil said, throwing on his coat.

“We?” Carver said, eyeing the others. “Since when do you boys get your hands wet?”

“This isn’t that kind of job,” Devil said. Stopping, he stood shoulder to shoulder with Carver. The man was a few years his senior, and every one of those brutal years was etched onto the man’s face. “You’ll leave the blades here.”

“Then what kind of job is it?” Carver asked. He slid the matching blades from their place at his back, and set them on the table. He didn’t bother to mention the one in his boot. Or the one strapped to his forearm.
 

Carver considered himself a man of many talents, some of which he put to use on Devil’s behalf. The rest? Well, the rest were of no use to anyone but him.
 

“We’re off to meet a carriage,” Devil said. Carver put him in mind of a snake with his beady eyes and pale, pink lips. His hair was constantly combed back from his face, giving him a perpetual slick look. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man started speaking with a forked tongue.

“A highway job?” Carver scoffed. “What do you need me for?”

“It’s not a purse we’re after,” Devil said, heading toward the door that led from his office into the alley behind the club.

“Then what is it?” Carver’s curiosity was piqued. Finn wasn’t happy to see him. No surprise there; the Irishman didn’t appreciate Carver or his methods. But Moose meant muscle.

“What are you planning, and why wasn’t I invited?” Carver followed the others out into the alley. Four horses stood waiting, each one saddled and ready to go.

“I’m inviting you now,” Devil said, gaining the saddle. A sudden gust of wind howled down the alley, ripping open his coat and spreading the halves on the stiffening breeze. His hair whipped around his face as the black gelding shifted, tossing its head and blowing steam as it stepped into the shadows.

Tonight, the devil really did ride through the streets of London.

“I’ll tell you what to do, and when,” Devil said. “That’s all you need to know for now.”

Carver bowed, mockery lining every inch of his thin frame.

“This is a mistake,” Finn whispered, pulling his horse up alongside Devil. “If you’re coming along, then we don’t need him.”

“My face is too well-known,” Devil said, though he’d entertained the same thought before sending for Carver. “I’m coming along to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“With Carver, something is guaranteed to go wrong,” Finn said.

“You don’t know that,” Devil said, nudging his horse forward.

“Aye, I do,” Finn muttered, watching Devil disappear down the alley. “Something went wrong with that man a long time ago.”

CHAPTER THREE

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Lord Edwards handed his daughter up into his carriage. Leaning in through the door, he waited for her to get settled, throwing a blanket over her lap and tucking it around her legs.

“I’m fine,” Jacqueline said, eager to escape from this place, from her father. From Henry. “It’s just a headache,” she lied. “There’s no reason for you to make it an early night.”

The Hawthorns’ ball was still in full swing, and her father was in his element talking politics and business. Later, there would be cards and drinking. The latter he most certainly could do without her around to witness.
 

“If you’re sure,” Lord John hesitated. He didn’t like the idea of his daughter traveling without him. “I can just as easily escort you home and come back.”

“A pointless trip,” Jacqueline assured him. “William can see me home.”

“Very well.” Jacqueline’s father stepped back, prepared to close the carriage door. Something inexplicable stilled his hand, and he considered ignoring his daughter’s wishes and joining her for the ride home.

“Edwards! Hurry up, man, Hawthorn is breaking out his best bottle of brandy yet!”

Lord John glanced over his shoulder to where Lord Murphy stood waving him forward. When he turned back to his daughter, the moment was gone and he closed the door with a click. “I will see you in the morning at breakfast,” he said through the window.

“Good night, Papa,” Jacqueline said, exhaling as the carriage rocked into motion.

She could not escape fast enough.
 

Henry had requested a second dance, a request she had denied. Her father’s disapproval had been a silent but heavy presence by her side. Clearly, her steadfast refusal wasn’t working, and something would have to be done. Henry’s sacrifice in waiting for her was destined to go unrewarded, and she couldn’t let him go on believing otherwise.
 

Troubles for another night
, Jacqueline thought, resting her head against the seat. It was late. Outside the carriage window, the streets were dark and deserted. A low fog had rolled in, blanketing London and giving the city a ghostly feel. Despite the time, the evening’s entertainments were still in full swing, and it would be hours yet before the streets filled again with men and women returning home.
 

Maybe she would check on the kitten when she got home. Mrs. Turner had cautioned against getting attached to the animal. Alone and motherless, chances were the animal would die. But Jacqueline had survived without her mother, and she would make sure the kitten did, too. The animal needed a name, something to give it strength—

A shot rang out, echoing off the buildings and startling the horses.
 

“Whoa!” William said, pulling hard on the reins. The horses slid, their hooves skidding across wet cobblestone.
 

The carriage lurched hard to the left, tipping precariously on two wheels. Jacqueline slid along the seat, grasping for purchase and banging up against the inside of the carriage.
 

For a moment, it looked to Finn like the carriage would right itself, the driver working furiously to steady the horses. But an unseen weakness in the axle gave way, and it snapped, the crack of splitting wood sounding like a second shot in the night.

Finn cursed as the carriage slammed back to the ground, grinding to a halt and coming to rest at an unnatural angle.

“Get the girl,” Devil ordered from his place in the shadow. Tucking the smoking pistol back into the waist of his trousers, he handed Carver the hood. “Moose, you’re with Carver. Finn, you secure the coachman. Be quick.”

“Are you OK, my lady?” William asked, holding the horses. There was no need to set the brake. The axle was broken, and they weren’t going anywhere.

“I’m fine,” Jacqueline said, struggling to right herself. “William, what—?”

“Stay inside, my lady,” William ordered, his eyes going wide as the three men swarmed the carriage, the lower halves of their faces covered with cloth. Surreptitiously, he transferred the reins to his left hand and reached for the shotgun under the driver’s seat.

“I wouldn’t be doing that if I were you,” Finn said, leaping up next to the coachman and pointing his own pistol at the man’s head. “There’s nothing here worth dying over.”

Jacqueline jumped as the door was thrown open and two men poured into the small confines of the carriage. It was pitch-black inside, the men nothing more than hulking shadows that filled the doorway and blocked her escape.
 

“Who are you? What do you think you are doing? Let me go!” Jacqueline screamed and slapped at the hands that reached for her. Thick fingers wrapped her wrists in a viselike grip and dragged her across the seat. “Don’t touch me!”

Carver grunted as the girl kicked his shin. “Grab her feet,” he hissed.

Jacqueline heard him and started struggling in earnest. Throwing herself backward, she managed to slip through his fingers, her body landing hard on the carriage floor. Pain exploded in her hip and shoulder, and she was momentarily stunned as the air left her lungs.

“Quickly!” Carver ordered, throwing the hood over Jacqueline’s head and dragging her across the floor towards the door. Moose leaned in and grabbed the her wrists, tying them together with a bit of cloth before pulling her out and onto her feet.

Jacqueline swayed.

Carver jumped down behind her, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. Reaching for the girl, he wrapped one arm around her waist, and he hauled her back against his chest. “Now I see what all the fuss was about,” he said, his hand sliding up to cup her breast.
 

Jacqueline screamed, clawing at the arms wrapped around her.

“Get your filthy hands off her!” William yelled.

Finn backhanded the coachman.

From his place in the shadows, Devil took out his pistol and leveled it at Carver’s head. “You will treat the lady with respect,” he growled. “This is business, not pleasure.”

“Oh, but I take great pleasure in my work,” Carver said, ignoring the gun and sliding his other hand between the girl’s thighs. Pressing his nose to her neck, he inhaled deeply. “She smells pretty.”

Jacqueline wrenched her body, twisting to break free. Throwing her head back, her skull impacted the man’s nose with a surprising crunch.

“Bitch!” Carver yelled, shoving the girl away and grabbing his bloodied nose. “The cunt broke my nose!”

Suddenly free, Jacqueline stumbled. Her feet caught in her skirts, and she landed hard on her hands and knees.
 

“I don’t think the lady appreciates your attention,” Devil said, motioning for Moose to help her.
 

Carver glared up at Devil. The man had watched the entire proceedings from atop his horse, his face hidden in the shadows. “She’ll pay for that.”

Jacqueline flinched as large hands wrapped around her arms and she was once again hauled to her feet.

“Easy,” Moose said. “I won’t hurt you.”

Jacqueline’s nod was automatic. She was blind beneath the hood. Shrouded in blackness, only sound could penetrate. She was trembling with the need to run. Everything was happening too fast, her mind working furiously to catch up with what her instincts already knew.
 

“Please let me go,” Jacqueline sobbed, begging in the darkness.

“Can’t,” Moose said, tucking the girl under his arm and guiding her to his horse. She was an itty-bitty slip of a thing and couldn’t weigh more than seven or eight stones soaking wet. Gently, he lifted her onto the animal, swinging up into the saddle behind her.
 

Devil waited until Moose had the girl securely situated. “Mount up,” he told Carver, and nodded at Finn.

Finn took a piece of paper from his pocket. The note had been prepared earlier in the day, the message carefully worded. “Give this to your master,” he told the coachman. “He’ll have his daughter back in twelve hours, if he follows the instructions.”

Cradling his cheek, William took the slip of paper. The note was sealed with unmarked wax. “His lordship won’t take kindly to this.”

“No,” Finn said, respecting the man for speaking up. “I don’t expect he will, but what happens now is up to him.”

William nodded, watching helplessly as the remaining men gained their horses and rode off, taking Lady Edwards with them.
 

In silence they rode, Jacqueline’s hood deprived her of nearly all her senses. The void was timeless and the space without end. Direction was impossible to decipher, and their path was a dark maze of twists and turns that left her disoriented and slightly nauseous.
 

Jacqueline’s heart hammered, the sound echoing in her ears, and her breathing came hard and fast. Tremors racked her body, violent shivers threatening to unseat her and tumble her to the ground, where she risked being trampled under the horse’s hooves. Maybe that would be for the best. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than the future these men had planned for her, especially the one with the cold hands and dead voice.

Devil pulled his horse to a stop and alighting, he signaled for Finn and Moose to join him. “Stay with the horses,” he ordered Carver. Best to keep the man away from the girl. His nose was already swollen, and a large bruise was spreading beneath eyes lit with an unsteady rage.
 

The horse beneath Jacqueline shifted, and her body teetered precariously in the saddle as her riding companion climbed down from behind her. A moment later, she was sliding from the horse’s back, her feet touching the ground and her legs buckling.

Moose reached for Jacqueline, juggling her roughly in an attempt to keep her on her feet. He’d never handled a lady before, and his attempts were clumsy, at best.
 

Her hands still tied in front of her, Jacqueline struggled to gain her feet. The hood slipped and a sudden flash of sight revealed thick fog, an empty street, and a broken sign. The cracked and faded image of an anvil and hammer disappeared as her hood was tugged back into place.
 

“Get her inside,” Devil ordered, though he wasn’t worried about being seen. These streets belonged to him, and the residents knew better than to concern themselves with his business.

Jacqueline was led down a steep set of stairs, each one shallow and slick beneath her slippers. A door opened, the hinges groaning violently, and the clang of iron echoed somewhere in the distance.
 

Jacqueline stumbled off the last step, but a hand on her arm caught her and guided her around a corner. The air turned warm, the cleansing fog replaced with the smell of mildew and earth. They were in a cellar, if she had to guess, or somewhere below ground.

“In here,” Moose muttered, leading the girl into a small storage room.