A Kiss In The Dark (5 page)

Her curiosity winning out over her fear, she started to make her way toward the sounds, her feet treading carefully over the filth and debris scattered in her path. As she drew closer, the shadowy forms she could make out in the distance began to take shape, until they abruptly coalesced into an alarming scene that had her coming to a halt, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp.

A group of rough-looking youths had cornered a middle-aged gentleman dressed in the clothes of a merchant against the back door of one of the shops that opened up onto the alley. They were obviously intent on doing him great bodily harm. Two of them held the man’s arms at his sides while a third pummeled him with vicious fists. Another looked on, his face alight with an almost unholy glee.

Oh, dear Lord, they were going to beat him to death! Emily thought, looking around wildly. But there was no one to turn to for assistance. Even if she yelled for help, she doubted anyone would come running in this part of town.

“That’s enough, Toby.”

The voice reverberated in the confines of the alley, infused with a silky menace that prickled the hairs on the back of Emily’s neck. The lad who had been delivering the thrashing obediently stopped and moved back as a figure emerged from the shadows and stepped into their midst with an arrogance born of authority.

The new arrival was a stocky, barrel-chested man with narrow, cunning eyes and a gleaming bald head that shone in the faint light of the moon. What held Emily spellbound, however, was the livid scar that ran the length of his left cheek, twisting one corner of his cruel mouth into a parody of a smile. Even at this distance, she could feel the evil emanating from him in powerful waves.

“Now, now, Mr. Baldwin,” he was saying, his tone dangerously soft as he circled the fallen gentleman, who had collapsed back against the building, his face a mass of cuts. “You wouldn’t be planning on leaving wiv’out saying good-bye to your good friend Barnaby Flynt, would you?”

Gasping for breath, the merchant struggled to speak. “O-of course not, Mr. Flynt. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I should ’ope not, because there’s the little matter of the blunt you owe me.”

“Blunt, Mr. Flynt?”

The man named Flynt gestured to the lad next to him, who smirked and delivered another punch to Mr. Baldwin’s midsection, causing him to double over with a groan of pain.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know you’d cheated me, Baldwin?” the scarred man said, shaking his head in an almost sorrowful manner. “That I wouldn’t know the merchandise I’ve been sending you was worth more than a few miserable quid? I’ve ’ad Toby ’ere following you for days, and ’e’s been telling me some very interesting things about you.”

“Whatever he said, it’s a lie! I swear it!”

“Toby knows better than to lie to me. Which is more than I can say for you.” Flynt once more turned to the young man, an eyebrow cocking inquiringly.

In answer, the lad reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, drawstring bag. “We searched ’im. ’E was carrying this.”

The bag arched through the air and landed in Flynt’s outstretched palm with an ominous jingle. He stared down at it, his expression unreadable. “It appears, Mr. Baldwin, that you’ve made the serious mistake of trying to double-cross me.”

Even in the dimness, Emily could see the merchant’s face bleach of all color, becoming a pale mask beneath his injuries. “No. Please.”

Ignoring him, Flynt tossed the bag back to his minion and turned to walk away a few paces, his stance deceptively casual. “I ’ate to do this, Baldwin. I truly do. Good receivers are ’ard to find in this part of town. But I can’t let it be said that Barnaby Flynt let a man steal from ’im and get away wiv it, now can I?”

“Please, Mr. Flynt, I swear it won’t happen again!”

“You’re right. It won’t.”

Flynt whirled back around, and the next thing Emily knew, he’d withdrawn a thin-bladed knife and sent it whistling through the air to embed itself deep in the merchant’s chest.

Baldwin cried out in shock and pain, one hand rising to touch the handle of the knife in disbelief. Then, his eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched forward to lay unmoving, a growing stain of red spreading out from his prone body.

Emily could no longer hide her horror. With a small squeal, she stumbled backward, her booted foot connecting with a stack of crates piled behind her, sending them crashing to the ground.

In a split second, the eyes of every man in the alleyway were focused on her.

For a long moment, nobody moved or spoke. Then Barnaby Flynt opened that twisted mouth to deliver a harsh command. “Get ’er!”

Emily didn’t wait another second. Spinning, she ran back the way she’d come, her pulse pounding in her ears. Dear God, if they caught her, they’d kill her! Just like that poor Mr. Baldwin!

Emerging from the alley, she glanced desperately up and down the street, looking for someone, anyone to come to her rescue. Unfortunately, no one appeared to be about, and as the footsteps of her pursuers closed in from behind, she picked up her skirts and raced off down the sidewalk, her gaze darting here and there, searching for some avenue of escape.

Suddenly, up ahead on the right, the entrance to another alleyway loomed. Thinking to lose herself in the darkness of the narrow passage, she swerved and ducked around the corner—only to collide with someone coming from the other direction.

The force of it was almost enough to knock her off her feet, dislodging the hood of her cloak and sending her tangled curls tumbling about her shoulders. Hands gently grasped her wrists and held her steady until she managed to regain her balance.

Tilting her head back, Emily found herself looking up at a boy of about her age. Tall and lean, he possessed longish brown hair that just brushed his shoulders and intense blue eyes that studied her from beneath the bill of a peaked cap.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice tinged with despair as she clutched at his elbows. “Please help me.”

He stared at her without speaking, and for a moment she thought he would ignore her plea. But as Barnaby Flynt’s ruffians came into view at the opening of the alley, he abruptly yanked her behind him and turned to face them with arms crossed in a defiant pose.

The four young men drew to a halt in front of her defender, and as she peered over his shoulder, Emily could see they were older than she’d first surmised. At least eighteen or nineteen, they were a sorry lot, with pockmarked faces and lank, greasy hair. The one named Toby wore an evil sneer that had her suppressing a shiver.

“Well, well, well, Toby,” her savior said in a casually insolent tone. “What ’ave we ’ere? Taken to bullying little girls now, ’ave we?”

“You just stay out of this, Quick, and ’and ’er over. Mr. Flynt’s got business wiv this one.”

“Ah. Mr. Flynt.” Quick paused for a minute, cocking his head as if considering the possibility. “What do I get if I
do
? ’And ’er over, I mean?”

Emily gasped in outrage and tugged at his sleeve, but he didn’t acknowledge her in any way. He didn’t take his eyes off the threat in front of them.

Toby bared his crooked teeth in a caricature of a smile. “We’ll let you live.”

One of the other boys laughed. “Your days are numbered anyway, Quick. Mr. Flynt’s runnin’ things around ’ere now, and your little gang won’t be lastin’ too much longer. What do you think about that?”

“I think you should remember the other day, Sam, when I caught you and Toby shoving around one of my boys. My
little
gang sent you both on your way wiv your tails between your legs, didn’t we?”

Toby’s face turned a mottled shade of red. “Things will be different today. There’s four of us and only one of you. I think we can ’andle it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?”

Quick shrugged. “That there’s only one of me. I just thought you might want to count the rest of my gang, since they’re coming up be’ind you right now.”

As one, four pairs of eyes swung to look over their shoulders, and in that instant, Quick grabbed Emily’s hand and hissed in her ear, “Run!”

She needed no second urging. Hanging on for dear life, she raced after him. From behind, she heard a curse and the sound of pounding feet, and she knew the young men were hot on their heels.

Quick led her on a zigzag course through the maze of alleyways, leaping over debris and rounding corners at a speed that had her breathless and gasping. The whole time, she could hear their pursuers gaining.

Just when she thought she could go no further, a fence rose up before them, blocking their way. It was much too tall to climb, and she felt her heart sink with despair.

“What do we—” she started to ask, but before she could finish the sentence, Quick was pulling aside one of the slats and shoving her toward the narrow opening. “Climb through. ’Urry!”

It was a close fit, but somehow she managed to squeeze through, and Quick swiftly followed.

Just in time. A loud slam came from the other side of the fence, then some extremely colorful swearing. Taller and heavier than the lanky Quick, there was no way Toby and his boys could ever hope to fit through.

“Come on,” Quick said, jerking his head at her. “We’d better get out of ’ere before they find a way over.”

Emily didn’t argue. Once again taking his hand, she allowed her rescuer to lead her off into the night.

T
ristan arrived back at the Ellington town house with his temper still seething, his meeting with Viscountess Rotherby replaying itself over and over in his mind.

He should have known better than to expect assistance from someone of her reputation, he reflected darkly, stalking up the wide stone steps from the street. The entire debacle had been a waste of his time, and he only wished he could dismiss her with as little effort as she had him. Unfortunately, his encounter with the lady wasn’t quite so easy to forget.

“No luck, my lord?”

At the soft query, he looked up to find Archer waiting for him at the front door, his expression anxious.

“None at all,” Tristan told the butler, brushing past him into the entry hall and dropping his hat and gloves on a nearby table. “She refused to help.”

Archer’s forehead creased in puzzlement as he followed him into the study. “Refused?”

“Without hesitation.”

“I’m so sorry, my lord. I was certain she would agree.”

Crossing the room to the sideboard, Tristan poured himself a snifter of brandy and took a fortifying swallow of the fiery liquid before turning back to face his servant. “It occurs to me, Archer, that you never did explain why Lady Rotherby would be familiar with an area like Tothill Fields in the first place.”

“I’m not one to spread tales, my lord, but I believe she has … business that takes her there with some frequency. Or so I’ve heard.”

Tristan grimaced. He didn’t doubt that, and he felt a surge of resentment as he recalled the way she’d drawn him in with her big green eyes and air of quiet dignity, making him doubt everything he’d heard about her. But in the end, she’d shown her true colors. Obviously, the woman had far more pressing matters on her agenda than helping to find a lost child.

He gritted his teeth against an overwhelming tide of frustration. Damn her! Her refusal to even consider his appeal in the face of his desperation had angered him beyond belief. That had been no excuse, however, for lashing out at her the way he had. His words had been cold and cruel in the extreme, and he felt a sharp stab of guilt in spite of himself as he recalled the brief flash of pain he’d seen in the depths of her eyes at his unexpected attack.

He supposed his only defense was that he’d been caught off balance from the moment he’d first seen her, her regal beauty both surprising and disconcerting. Visions of her lying in the arms of the elderly viscount, letting him kiss her, touch her, make love to her, had flashed across his mind’s eye, inexplicably arousing his ire.

With a vicious curse, Tristan tossed back the rest of his drink, then whirled to pour himself another. What was it to him whom the viscountess allowed into her bed? He doubted Lord Rotherby had been the first—or the last. If even half the rumors he’d heard about her were true, she was exactly the sort of woman he should avoid at all costs. After all, he had a straitlaced aunt to appease and an impressionable younger sister to raise.