The Wild Wellingham Brothers. Sophia JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
cane, encrusted with emeralds and rubies, the secret catch hidden beneath an overhanging rim of ivory.
Lord, it was all so nebulous, but she had to have faith that it was here, because if it wasn’t…? She shook her head. Hard. The alternative didn’t bear thinking of and with the covering of darkness the night was still long.
Long enough to waylay a duke?
Her first real chance?
Dressed as a lad, she might be able to shake some clue from Wellingham as to the whereabouts of the map, and if Azziz accompanied her…? Excitement flushed her cheeks as she threaded her hand through her aunt’s and helped her from the room. All they needed to know was the location of the cane. With this in hand they could find it and be gone from England on the next outgoing tide. Disappearing was easy when you had the promise of enough money to cover your tracks.
Two hours later the carriage she had been waiting for thundered out of the Derrick town house, the heavy velour curtains on each side drawn. Signalling to Azziz to urge the team forward and follow, Emerald searched for a place to cut the conveyance off, though as it turned into the docks on the south side of the river, she bade him to hang back.
‘What is the Duke doing here at this time of night?’
She asked the question of Toro, who sat beside her, and when he shook his head the ring in his left ear gleamed in the moonlight.
‘The tide will be up before morning. Perhaps he means to take ship somewhere.’
Puzzlement was replaced by surprise as a woman she had not seen before climbed down from the now-stationary coach.
No, not a woman, but a girl, she amended, and hardly happy at that. The older man who met with her had his fingers tightly about her forearm and he wasn’t looking pleased as they walked to the porch of a shabby doss-house and stopped. Or at least the girl stopped. Emerald could quite plainly hear her speaking.
‘I do not think this is the place we want, Stephen. You cannot mean to have brought me here.’
‘It is just for tonight, Lucy. Just until I can find ship on the morrow.’
‘Nay. You promised we would be wed first.’ Her distress was increasing. ‘If my brother found out I have come to this place…’ He did not let her finish.
‘I did not force you into the carriage, Lucinda. You came, I thought, of your own free will. An adventure, you said, to spice up the boring routine of your existence. Now come along, for we do not have all night.’ His words were slightly slurred.
‘Are you drunk?’ The young woman’s consternation was becoming more obvious as the driver of the Wellingham coach joined them.
‘The master would be most displeased, my lady. My instructions were to take you straight home.’
‘I shall be with you in a moment, Burton. Please, could you wait in the carriage?’
The servant wavered, plainly uncertain as to what he should do next and his hesitancy fired the younger man into an angry response. Without any warning, his fist shot out and the driver fell dazed onto the pathway.
‘Come, my love, no servant should question a lady’s motives and we have waited long enough for this chance.’
Emerald grimaced. She had heard that tone before and knew what was to come next. A young and inexperienced girl would have no idea how to counter such overt masculine pressure. And would suffer for it.
Breathing out, she pushed forward, signalling to Toro and Azziz to stay behind.
‘Let her go.’ Her voice was as low and rough as she could make it, the glint of her sharpened blade in the moonlight underlining the message.
‘Who the hell are you?’
Ignoring his question, she addressed the girl. ‘Think hard and long before you accompany this gentleman, miss, for I think he is not as reputable as you might hope. If I were you, I would take the safer option and return home.’
Emerald tensed as the one named Stephen came towards her and, slipping her blade into the intricate folds of cravat at his neck, she held him still. ‘I would advise you, sir, to keep very quiet as to the purpose of this night’s excursion. Put it down to folly if you like or to the effects of strong drink, but know that even a small whisper of what has transpired here could be dangerous to your well-being.’
‘You would threaten me?’
‘Most assuredly I would.’
He moved suddenly, the heel of his hand striking Emerald’s cheekbone before she brought the hilt of her knife up hard against the soft part of his temple. He crumpled quite gracefully, she thought, for a tall man and did nothing to cushion his fall. The startled eyes of the girl came upon her and unexpectedly Emerald felt the need to explain away her actions.
‘I’d had enough of his questions.’
‘So you have killed him?’
‘No. Simply wounded his pride. In much the same way as he has wounded yours, I suspect.’
‘He was not the person I thought him to be and I can’t imagine what may have happened if you had not come along, Mr…?’
‘Kingston.’ Emerald’s heart sank as small, cold fingers entwined around hers.
‘Mr Kingston.’ The young voice sounded breathless and when Emerald tried to disengage her hand the girl began to cry, tiny sobs at first and then huge loud wrenching ones until the patrons spilled out from a nearby tavern. Emerald was now in a quandary. She was hard-pressed for time and the dawn was not far off and yet she could not just abandon such innocence either.
‘How old are you?’ she said roughly as she hailed Azziz and waited as he turned the hackney.
‘Seventeen. I shall be eighteen, though, in three months and I am indebted to you for your help. If you had not come when you did, I…’ Tears rolled down her cheeks and splattered on the yellow silk of her gown.
Oh, dear God, Emerald thought, her own twenty-one years seeming infinitely more worldly. By seventeen she had sailed the world from the Caribbean to the Dutch East Indies, the promise of death dogging her at each and every mile. By seventeen her innocence had long been robbed by circumstance. The thought made her head ache. England was like a hothouse, she suddenly decided, its people so sheltered from reality and difficulty that they were easily hurt. And broken. Like this girl. By small contretemps and silly mistakes.
‘If you had not been here…’ Lucy began again. ‘My brother warned me to have nothing to do with the Earl of Westleigh…said I should stay away from him…insisted that I did not even talk with him.’ Her sobs were lessening now and her voice levelled out from panic to anger. ‘It was the forbiddenness I think that made him interesting.’ She looked down at the man prostrate at her feet. ‘Certainly here I can see no redeeming quality, save for the waistcoat, I think.’ She finished on a teary giggle. ‘I always liked the way he wore his clothes. By the way, I am Lady Lucinda Wellingham. The Duke of Carisbrook’s youngest sister.’
Emerald stilled a sharp jolt of surprise. Carisbrook’s sister? Lord, what was she to do now? The thought that perhaps she could use Asher Wellingham’s sibling as a hostage did cross her mind, but she dismissed this in a moment. For one, she doubted she could stand the company of such a watering pot for any great length of time; for two, she reminded her of a golden retriever they’d had once at St Clair. All gratitude and shining devotion.
No, the girl must be returned post-haste to her brother; if luck held, he might as yet still be at Lord Henshaw’s soirée. She could be in and out of the Carisbrook town house without having to speak to a soul, for, damn it, she did not dare to chance any encounter with the Duke. Not dressed like this in the full light