A Lady's Guide to Kiss A Rake: Misadventures of the heart (10 page)

“I take it Lady Josephine won the wager.”

Damien nodded, downing his brandy.

“I take it you did not respond well?”

“Westfield,” Damien warned, his voice tight and its the meaning clear.
Stop
.

“You know, Lady Josephine would make for an interesting wife.”

“No, she would not.”

Yes, she would.

“Well, how would you know? You seem to like her well enough.”

“I’m not marrying Lady Josephine!” Damien snapped, annoyed now. Saints, married. Him?  Did Westfield wish to torture him?

“It was only a suggestion.”

“Well you can stop with your unwanted suggestions.”

“Why do you always have to ruin my pleasure?”

“Because your pleasure falls into the same category as torture and my enjoyment tonight consists of getting foxed and spreading rumors of poor unsuspecting females.”

“Now there’s a plan.”

Westfield’s brilliant smile made him appear young and boyish. Damien had always envied his friend that trait. He was an easy fellow, with no foul moods or tempers, the exact opposite of Damien.

He just hoped Westfield, protector of all females, would still be so charming after he learned that Damien seduced Lady Josephine.  He had subjected himself long enough to this agony. And it was agony, lusting after her, watching her bat her lashes at Craven.

“By the by, what did Craven say when you confronted him?” Westfield asked.

“Nothing,” Damien said. “The bastard said nothing.”

“Well, perhaps we will run into him tonight and beat him to a pulp.”

“Now there’s a satisfying thought,” Damien muttered darkly.

Or better yet, find himself a willing woman with ample charms to bury himself in, to make him forget all about innocent young ladies. It appeared Westfield had the same idea.

“Yes, then we can find ourselves some lovely womanly charms,” his friend’s voice slurred.

How many brandies have they had?

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Damien said, noticing his voice too, had a slight slur to it.

“We have yet to experience our golden years. Years before we need to consider marriage.”

That caught Damien’s attention. “You say that as if the thought has crossed your mind. Have you considered it?”

“Haven’t you?”

Yes, but it was not worth mentioning to Westfield, so he snorted instead.

“Not even with the pretty Lady Josephine?”

Damien shrugged, as if that was explanation enough. And of course it would be. He was a notorious rake who possessed a dark reputation after all. Any woman should know better than be caught alone with him.

“Of course you did. I can see it in your eyes.”

And that was in essence, the reason Damien loved his friend. He managed to see right through the façade Damien presented to the world.

“If I considered it,” Damien muttered, “it was only because I considered what it would feel like to live in a constant nightmare for the rest of my miserable life.”

“Surely marriage cannot be that bad.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Damien drawled, pouring them more brandy, “it’s the nagging and responsibility that sticks in my craw.”

Westfield laughed. “Ever the optimist.”

Damien watched his friend rub his temple. “Ready to call it a night,” he taunted. “You look as if you are ready to pass out.”

“Of course not. We still have rumors to spread.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Devil of a headache since she put her hounds on me.”

“Nothing cures a headache quite like drowning it in spirits.”

“Right,” Westfield murmured. “It’s only the bad stuff that worsens the headache.”

“I’ll have you know that nothing enters these lips of mine but the best.”

“We’ll have to spread the rumors at Whites,” Westfield muttered, distracted. “It’s where all the fortune hunters hang out, seemingly to keep up appearances.”

“Really? There is something of which you wish to inform me?” Damien asked in a teasing manner.

Westfield’s grin appeared lopsided. “Evelyn’s dowry has crippled my finances.”

“Then I shall beat Grey to a pulp again for marrying your sister.”

“As I recall, there was no victor in that brawl of yours.”

Damien scoffed, "Only because it would not have been fair beating up a man with no skill.”

“I’ll take your word for it. After all, you are the expert in the craft of brawling. You seem to be doing it at an alarming rate.”

“Only when it touches me personally,” Damien declared.

Westfield smiled. “Now that’s revealing.”

Damien pretended not to hear him and got up, swaying on his feet.

“Are you certain we’ll make it to the front door?” Westfield murmured, now also swaying toward the exit.

Damien swallowed, fog filling his brain. He closed his eyes for a moment. How many glasses of brandy had they consumed? Westfield only arrived…well, not that long ago, so why were they both swaying like some drunken peasants?  He regarded his friend through hazy eyes. “Westfield, are you well?” Damien asked, rubbing his temples where a headache threatened to pierce his skull.

“I’m fine,” he slurred. “Just a headache.”

“Never get them,” Damien muttered, plopping down on the sofa again, realizing they were in no condition to leave tonight.

Westfield slumped down next to him, his hands rubbing both his temples. “Bloody hell, what happened to that brandy?”

Damien closed his eyes, willing his own headache to go away as a rush of exhaustion settled over him. He even attempted to count, but could not remember what came after the number three. Five? “Must’ve been a bad batch.”

“Lucky us.”

Yes, lucky them, he thought, before he passed out.

Chapter 10

Bond Street was filled with people milling about, going about their business. Ladies and gentlemen alike cluttered the cobblestones, girls shopping for bonnets and men indulging them. Other, less fortunate men shouted at one another from across the street while an old lady hobbled along the edge, waving her cane at some lord when he accidentally stepped in front of her path. All were unsuspecting of the hell about to break lose.

Yet at that precise moment inside a small dressmakers shop, Lady Josephine and Lady Belle posed as shop girls, attending to the Countess of Ardmore in a calm and orderly manner, oblivious to what was happening outside. Well, not entirely oblivious. Not even the Countess recognized them, for they wore wigs and dressed in simple peasant attire. And why would anyone spare a closer glance at them? No one would ever believe a lady would pretend to be anything but a lady. 

It was genius.

A few feet away from the shop, James Shaw busied himself loading a cart of boxes and crates, appearing to the untrained eye as just another merchandiser going about his affairs. The women passing the street, however, had trouble keeping their gazes off his big form, openly admiring him while he worked and he pretended not to note their stares.

Somewhere at the back of the shop, Craven swaggered. To anyone who passed him, he appeared a drunken, bedraggled and dirty fool, swaying up and down the alleyway, shouting for his Matilda to come home.

All this seemed quite comforting, except that somewhere in the crowd, the Middletons prepared to put their plan into action, which according to Poppy Middleton, would be a grand affair.

Lady Constance, on the other hand, was not aware of any of this as she made her way through the crowd to the dress shop, her guards following closely behind. She had no idea today would be the day she’d be set free from the clutches of the man who’d forced her into marriage, and with a little luck, she would never need to worry about him and his cruelty again.

Jo and Belle had but a few precious moments to convince Lady Constance they were her saviors and to play along. If she did not, well they weren’t above shoving laudanum down her throat if the lady did not cooperate.

Lady Constance entered the shop only moments after the Countess of Ardmore departed and Jo’s heart sank at the look of utter acceptance on the poor woman’s face. Dark smudges marked the hollows under her eyes, no doubt caused by lack of sleep, and her cheeks appeared hollowed out. Yet, still she remained pretty, with honey blonde hair and soft pale skin. She looked like any other lady might, except for her eyes. They spoke of pain and sorrow.

“Molly,” Jo called to Belle, “we’ve another customer.”

With a shaky breath, Jo made her way over to Lady Constance, Belle following on her heels. “My lady,” she murmured with a smile. “How may we help you today?”

“I wish to select some new material for riding habits.”

“Of course, please follow us,” Belle said with a kind smile.

Lady Constance brows furrowed together, glancing around the shop at all the material displayed.

“Oh, we’ve new stock that may interest you,” Jo said when she noted Lady Constance hesitate.

Belle nudged Jo.

“My lady, if you please,” Belle motioned to the back.

Oh yes, they were supposed to be peasants.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Lady Constance stammered.

A wealth of meaning lay behind that stammer and Jo wished she could wrap her hands around Cartwright’s throat. They made their way toward one of the back rooms, one which had a door that led to the back entrance of the shop.

Once in, Belle shut the door with a resounding click, never leaving her post in front of it, in case Lady Constance decided to dash off.

“What is going on?” The lady asked when her eyes flicked across the room, no material in sight, only boxes for storage.

“Lady Constance, we are here to kidnap you,” Belle said, rather to the point.

“What?” the lady asked, her tone horrified and her hands starting to shake.

“Belle! You needn’t put it that way,” Jo admonished.

“How else am I to put it?”

Jo ignored her, turning toward a now frightened Lady Constance. “I know this may sound strange, but we are not here to kidnap you, we have come to rescue you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Let me put it this way, we are a group of individuals who aid people that are in trouble to either disappear and start a new life, or as in your case, hand you over to your family.”

Hope blossomed in Lady Constance eyes before it disappeared again. “My husband will kill you. There are guards. Even now they stand watch outside the store. They will never allow me to leave with you.”

“Not to worry, we are aware of your husband’s men and have planned accordingly,” Jo reassured her, but kept her eye on the lady for any sign that she might bolt.

“In a few minutes, there will be a commotion that will draw every eye in the vicinity, including your guards, but only for a few seconds. So we need to be ready and have your full cooperation for this to work,” Belle said in way of explanation.

“But where will I go?”

“The Duke of Richmond has been notified and will send someone to collect you.”

“Richmond is part of this?” Lady Constance asked, hopeful once again.

“Yes,” Jo lied. “But he must keep his distance until this is over or your husband will suspect him.”

“But who are you?”

Jo and Belle exchanged a glance. “For now, that is not important, what is important is to not get caught. You will go to the country and wait for him to send for you.”

“I can’t believe this is truly happening.”

Jo wiped a tear from her cheek. “It’s best if you are not aware of all the details, but once your husband has been taken care of and it’s safe to come back, you will have friends amongst you.”

“I am with child.”

They stilled at that news. “Does your husband know?”

Lady Constance nodded. “Yes, he will never stop until he finds me. He will hunt me down to the ends of the earth.”

“He won’t be alive to do so,” Belle muttered in an ominous voice and Lady Constance’s eyes widened at the sound of the pleasure in her voice.

“Do not mind her, my lady. She’s a blood thirsty one,” Jo said, her eyes dancing with laughter.

“So I see. What exactly is your plan after this commotion occurs?”

“We will stuff you in a cart and get you out of London,” Belle supplied.

The lady blinked, a smile tugging at her lips. “Of course.”

“When will we know the commotion has started?”

The question barely left her lips when a deafening noise sounded, followed by shouts and shrieks alike, not one or two, but a hundred it seemed.

“That will be our cue,” Belle said with a wicked smile as she led them to the back entrance of the shop. “This way, if you please.”

Jo stepped onto the street where all hell had broken loose.

An explosion outside the abandoned building across the street had caused a thick smoke cloud to descend as the flames licked up the building. People who had obviously dropped to the floor during the explosion, jumped to their feet, screaming and shouting, some viewing in horror as the building took fire with rapid force. Some scrambled, shouting for all to fetch buckets of water to contain blazing embers. Jo saw James wading through the crowd to reach the building. She spotted Craven, a solemn look on his face as he climbed in front of their escape cart, ready to set off at a moment’s notice. They had managed to disguise Lady Constance, now dressed as a boy, and helped her to climb in between the crates on the cart, cleverly arranged to fit and conceal them from view.

“James! We need to leave,” Jo hissed from between the crates when she spotted him.

“Miss Middleton is in that building,” he said, nodding in the direction of the burning construction. Already people carried buckets of water to contain the flames, but one of the Middleton sisters had yet to emerge.

“What!” Belle screeched, trying to climb back out.

“Craven, go.” James ordered. “I will get her out.”

“But—” Belle started to interrupt but Jo silenced her.

“James will bring her to safety Belle, he won’t let any harm befall her. I will retrieve your cousins, but you must take care of Lady Constance.”

Lady Belle did not argue, but instead settled back between the crates, concerned and silent.

“I promise I will bring them all to safety,” James murmured before he retreated back into the crowd of panicked citizens. Jo followed, keeping pace alongside him. Not an easy feat. His legs were so much longer and his strides bigger than hers.

“Are you certain she’s inside, James?” Jo asked with concern.

He gave a curt nod. “She lost her balance and may not have gotten away from the explosion fast enough.”

“I see Willow and Holly. I’ll retrieve them and meet you down on the corner of Cavendish Square where our coach is waiting,” Jo said, her voice laced with emotion.

James nodded, not wasting anymore time before he charged through the burning building, uncaring of the heat and smoke threating to suffocate him, in search of Poppy Middleton.

Josephine stared in utter devastation as Willow comforted a sobbing Holly. Her own emotions bordered on hysterics. What if Poppy had been hurt? What if she died? How would she ever forgive herself if anything happened to that poor girl?

And Belle... She would blame herself, even though it was by no fault of hers. They had all known the plan entailed producing gunpowder and that it would be dangerous mixing chemicals, but Poppy had ensured them the batch would be diluted and would serve only for a distracting noise.

“It’s all my fault!” Holly sobbed, pulling Jo from her thoughts. “I collided with her too hard. I shouldn’t have run so fast.”

“It’s not your fault. Poppy just lost her balance, that’s all,” Willow comforted, tears in her own eyes.

“Because of me!”

Jo did not know how much longer she could take the suspense. If James didn’t show up soon she would head back to look for him.

“I’m sure they’re fine, Holly,” Jo said gently. “Poppy will not let something as mundane as fire haul her under.”

Holly smiled through her tears. “No, she will not.”

Just then, the door of the carriage flew open and James climbed inside, an unconscious Poppy, dangling from his arms. Holly and Willow both gasped at the sight of their sister before Holly burst into tears again.

“Is she still alive?” Willow whispered. Her voice shook with fear.

“Yes, but she wouldn’t have been had I arrived moments later. What the hell happened?”

“Everything had gone just like we practiced at home, but the batch of gunpowder must not have been diluted enough.”

“It burned down a building, so I would say not,” James snapped, still cradling Poppy in his arms, readjusting in his seat so that she might be more comfortable.

“My sister has never before made a mistake. It should have been contained to the wagon. We must’ve taken the wrong barrel.”

Jo sighed when James glared at Willow, and Willow only stared calmly back. She noticed the way he held Poppy, his fingers stroking gently over her hair. He didn’t seem to even notice the action. “James, this is not the time to argue.”

Those fiery eyes locked with her. “This is the perfect time, Josephine. Where the hell did you get the gunpowder?” James asked. The always smiling man now hard and unrelenting.

Willow shrugged, not intimidated. “We made it.”

“You made it?” He sounded incredulous.

“Well, Poppy made it. I was never any good at mixing chemicals though the recipe is simple enough with only sulfur, powder coal and saltpeter. I could never get the amount of each right. Poppy has always been exceptional at mixing powders.” Willow glanced at her unconscious sister with pride. “My father even allows her to assist him.”

“You father should be strung from his—”

“James!” Jo scolded. “Everything turned out well enough.”

“She could have died, Josephine, all because her father is a fruitcake.”

Holly chuckled through her tears. “He is a bit nutty.”

Willow sighed. “I’ll admit my father is a curious man, but his intentions have always been good.”

“She’s alive, and that is all that matters,” Jo said, directing a pointed stare at James. He lifted his upper lip in a snarl and looked away, leaving Jo to stare out of the window as she had no desire to look at Poppy’s unconscious form on his lap and be reminded of how they’d almost lost her.

Chains rattled and hooves pounded as they traveled through the streets of London, until they halted at the back entrance of Belle’s home, where her cousins also resided. Belle was waiting for them when they arrived, frantic with worry as she rushed to the carriage.

Poppy had at least gained semi-consciousness though Jo couldn’t tell if she was aware of her surroundings or not. She only muttered unintelligently about black powder and smoke. Belle grabbed Poppy by the face, inspecting every inch of her as James put her back on her feet, still holding onto her arms, but letting her body rest against his when her knees have out.