Lady Rogue (7 page)

Chapter Seven

The Devil's Horn Tavern smelled of sweat, grease, smoke from the kitchen stove, stale wine and ale.  All these odors assailed Dawn's nostrils as Black John pushed open the heavy door and she followed him inside.  Being a frequent guest at the tavern, he
was welcomed with open arms.

"Lord love a duck, if it isn't John!  I was 'oping ter see ye tonight, mate."  The proprietor scurried from behind the counter to greet him personally, slapping John on the back.  "My best
customer, 'at's wot yer are."

"And I'll continue to be but...."  Putting his mouth to the man's ea
r Black John buzzed a secret.

Customer indeed, Dawn thought.  Dutton was Black John's partner in crime, more often than not his contact in selling stolen goods.  No doubt it would be he who would aid John in finding an executioner for the poor unfortunate toff he'd bonked on the head.  Dawn had little doubt they'd soon find someone to do the task. The Devil's Horn was one of the most notorious "flash houses" in the district and catered to their kind. Dawn eyed it now with trepidation,   feeling  ill-at-ease knowing
what Black John meant to do.

"Come on, come on.....loosen up a bit.  Try ter smile.  We're 'ere to celebrate not to 'ide in the corner." Brushing at the legs of his pants
, Black John affected a jaunty air. "'Ave a drink, Dawn me girl.  On me."

Such generosity was rare and Dawn looked at him askance, knowing full well of his intent. 
Such bribery might work with Robbie but not with her. Even so, she forced a smile. Her own plans would fare better if Black John thought he’d won her over.

"I'll 'ave a bit o' wine!"

"Wine....?"  Robbie laughed.  "'At's me sis.  She's got hoighty toighty tastes, all roight.  Gin for me, Johnnie."

Firelight danced and sparked, illuminating the scarred wooden tables, the uneven plaster on the walls, the bowed beams of the ceiling as she walked into the largest room. The plank floor was sprinkled liberally with a mixture of rushes and sawdust and was badly in need of a sweep.  The taproom had seen better days, though a few hundred years ago it might hav
e been grand, Dawn thought.

The tavern was crowded  to overflowing with hardly enough elbow room to lift a tankard.    The sound of strange babbling could be heard
, for London was a city that housed many nationalities.  Many of those assembled had turned to crime for want of a better vocation.  The laughter and chattering was deafening, so much so that Dawn could barely overhear the conversations bouncing about the room.  Ah well, it didn't matter.  She'd have little time to socialize tonight, she thought. 

"I needs a plaice to conduct me business, I do.  Too noisy, eh Robbie me lad?"  Black John winked at the younger man as if he and John shared a secret, as if they thought Dawn didn't know what deed they planned.  "Let's seek
out the private quarters." 

There were eight drinking-rooms for semi-seclusion, each one  provided with screens so that they could be divided up into partitions for those who required privacy for important conversation, private business or matte
rs of a more amorous nature. 

The west wall was stacked with large barrels that wobbled and swayed precariously as they passed by.  Dawn found herself hoping one would fall and crack Black John on the head,  for it seemed the only way to evade his ever-watching eye.
She had no such luck.  She'd have to find another way to get back to the warehouse.

"What can I get for you two gents and the laidy?" a tavern maid , bent over to give Robbie an extensive view of her enormous breasts as she asked the question. She looked at him with an appraising scrutiny
, then smiled, showing her dimples.  She cooed and she flirted to be rewarded by a winsome pinch on her well-rounded behind.

"Two gins and a wine, me good woman."  Robbie cocked his head, grinning at  the tavern
wench as they all sat down.  "And Black John will paiy.  Come into a small fortune we 'ave and we wants to celebrate."  Taking out his newly acquired gold pocketwatch, he made great show of looking at the time in a move to impress her, then slipped it back in his pocket.

"Maike 'at three gins....."  Black John's smile was toothy as he nodded, greeting  a tall, cadaverously
,  thin red-haired man who joined their small party.  Dawn recognized the man at once, for he had an unsavory reputation as one who would do anything for a shilling, including robbing graves for bodies to sell to anatomists.  She shuddered as he sat next to her.

"Dutton, '
e says yer might 'ave need o' me services.....?"

"I might...."  Black John broke into a rasping conversation of doubletalk, a way of communicating he often used when dealing with others in his profession.  It  was a conversation of rhyming slang that gave him protection in case there were any unfriendly ears eavesdropping.   "There'll be bees and honey fer ye...."  Bees and honey was a code for money.

"How much...?"

"Tom Nicks...."  Dawn knew that to
be six, most likely shillings.

"Not enough...."

"Cock and hen.....?"  That meant ten.

"We'll talk about it o'er our gin...."  As the barmaid brought back the full tankards Black John raised his
in a toast.  "To the future."

"To th
e future....."  Robbie echoed.

Future, Dawn thought.  There wouldn't be any future if she couldn't slip free of John.  She had to find a way to get out of his sight without raising his suspicions.  Raising her own glass she sipped the wind eagerly, hoping it would give her courage. She had already outlined her plan, knowing as she did of the trapdoors concealed in the tavern's floor to allow smuggled goods easy access into
London.  If she knew Robbie and Black John, they'd soon be in their cups, and when they were, she'd use those secret entranceways as an escape route, slip out of the tavern and take the handsome brown-haired man to a place of safety.  She had to be patient.  In the meantime she contented herself in eavesdropping on the conversation  taking place at the table.  Just how much was a man's life worth, she wondered, and was chillingly given the answer.  Eighteen shillings.  That was the sum agreed on for the murder.  The very thought sickened her, though  John was proud of himself and the bargain he'd struck.

"Let's drink to it.....!"

Dawn's fingers trembled as she raised the glass to her lips.  Though the wine was sweet, she couldn't get it down.  Dear God, she had to find a way to free the gentleman before it was too late.  The walls seemed to be closing in on her. The room was hot and stuffy.  The rattle of pewter tankards against the table as the tavernmaid brought the second round of drinks caused her to jump.  Suddenly it seemed so quiet, with an oppressive silence that unnerved her, as if everyone had stopped talking all at once.   In that moment it seemed she could even hear the tick tock of Robbie's pilfered watch as it measured the passing minutes.
Please.....let there be a way!

Her prayer was answered in the strangest of ways.  While making "eyes" at Robbie, the tavern maid jostled Dawn's  arm, spilling the contents of the wine glass down the front of Dawn's oyster-co
lored silk gown.  "Ohhhhhhhh!"

"Oh, Miss.  I'm sorry.  'Tis such an awkward one I be."  Trying to give aid, the buxom young woman moved closer,  brushing at Dawn's dress with the hem of her apron.  In so doing she sloshed even more of the red liqui
d on the already ruined gown.

"Ye've spoiled me gown!  Ye've spoiled me gown."  Dawn pretended more outrage than she actually felt.  "
I'm soaked to the skin, I am."

"Now don't get in a snit, Dawnie.  Accidents 'appen, they do."  Robbie hastened to make peace between the two women.  "Anger won't 'elp."  He turned to the tavern maid.  "Do yer 'ave something me sis could w
ear until 'er gown dries off?"

"I do and I'll gi' it to 'er most gladly.  She can put 'er dress in front o'
the fire in my room to dry."

"There, yer see!"  Robbie patted the woman  again on her plump behind.  "She's a generous one, she is
, as well as being  lovely."

Dawn's heart was beating so loudly she was certain everyone at the table could hear
, yet she forced herself to rise from the table slowly.  She must not let John guess how eager she was to be out of sight.  Nevertheless, he grasped her wrist as she pulled free of the table.

"Remember, Dawn me girl, I'll be watching the door, just in case......"  Dawn nodded silently, glancing at her escape route from the corner of her eye. The trap door to the underground tunnels was behind  the large barrels.  Could John see it from he
re?  She decided he could not.

"I ain't goin' nowhere, Black John
.  Specially not in me shift.  I'll be back down, I will.  It wasn't my fault she's clumsy!"  Looking at the poor unfortunate girl, Dawn pretended anger.  "Ooooooh, and such a lovely dress it was......"

"I'll get yer another one, twice as pretty," Robbie promised, adding, "Leave Dawnie be, John.  She'll be back.  She'd ne'er desert he bro.  She knows on which side her b
read is buttered I'll wager."

"Arghhh.....Go on then,"  John retorted, but if yer ain't back in fifteen minutes
I'll come after yer, I will."

Somehow Dawn managed to walk away without stumbling over her suddenly unmanageable feet.  She followed the tavern maid up the stairs and into her  tiny chamber.  Accepting the plain dun-colored cotton gown sh
e nodded to the girl to leave.

"Just 'ang yer dress over that wooden chair and the fire'
ll 'ave it dry in no time...."

"I will....and...and thank you,"
for more than you will ever know
, Dawn thought.

It seemed to take forever for the girl to leave
, but as soon as she did, Dawn followed at a safe distance.  Stealthfully she worked her way across the taproom, hiding in the shadows. Passing a shelf, she grabbed a kitchen knife with the intent of using it to slash the twine which held her gentleman captive.  Hiding the utensil in the folds of her skirt, tugging the trapdoor open, she did not even pause once as she  made her way down the narrow, rickety flight of stairs that led to the tunnel.
              The air was chilly and damp inside the hidden passageway. The water of the Thames  was an ever present danger, for at high tide it often flooded the tunnel.  Dawn wrapped her arms protectively around her body as she fumbled through the darkness, bumping into obstacles and brushing against spider webs. She was at last rewarded by the sight of a light at the end of the tunnel Dragging herself up the steps, she didn't even pause before she broke into a run, putting the Devil's Horn and Black John Dunn far behind her.

Chapter  Eight
             

The warehouse was in semi-darkness, the sputtering oil lamp creating shifting shadows.  Dawn hesitated for a moment in the doorway. If she freed him, he
might
send them all to Newgate. Was she prepared for that?  But if she did not free him, his fate was sealed. That was a
certainty
.  Above all she could
not
live with being an accomplice to murder.  Never!

Chiding herself for
her hestation when time was so precious, Dawn hastened forward. She had to set him free and return to the Devil's Horn before Black John or Robbie realized she was gone. Striking a match, she turned up the wick and relit the lamp. Her eyes scanned the room for the object of her concern.  He was still there, right where they had left him, so immobile in fact that it caused one more worry.   He was as still and silent as a corpse.  What if John had killed him after all?

Kneeling beside him
, Dawn stretched out her hand, touching his arm, feeling for a pulse.  It was there, giving proof of a strongly beating heart.  Dawn rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and listened to the reassuring rhythm.  Thank God!  He
was
alive.  Lifting his hand to her face, she kissed his bruised knuckles.  He'd proved himself a fighter, that was certain.  Had he not been attacked from behind, he would have been unbeatable.

With deep
ly felt concern she ran her hands over his muscled shoulders, marveling at his strength.  Black John had toted him to the warehouse like a sack of grain.  She wanted to make certain no bones were broken, or so she told herself.  Carefully she lifted the hair that lay on his temple and examined his head wound, watching his face for a sign that she was hurting him.  He didn't as much as flicker his eye lids.  He was out cold. There was a huge knot, proof of the blow that had rendered him senseless.  Nevertheless she had to wake him up somehow, for  how was she  going to get him away from here if he couldn't move on his own strength?

"Sir.....!"  Oh, how she wanted to see his lips spread in a smile, wanted to gaze into his bold blue eyes again. She shook him gently, the pressure of her hands somehow changing into a  long, leisurely caress as her hands followed her
eyes.  It was pleasant to touch him.  Oh, what a fine man he was, broad-shouldered, long limbed and as elegantly dressed as a fashion plate, those colorful drawings she remembered so vivdly from her childhood that always showed the latest styles.  A gentleman was what he was, just as her father had been.

Her fingers touched his arm and moved to wrap around his hand.  Deftly she struggled to untie the knots at his wrists
, pausing only when she heard a noise beyond the doorway.  Could Black John have noticed her perfidy so quickly?  If she were caught in the act of freeing John's "pigeon" there would be hell to pay.  Rocking back on her heels, seeking the shadows, she remembered the kitchen knife and clutched it for security. She waited cautiously but  no one entered, much to her relief.  Turning back to her work, she was able to  tug the last knot free without  need of the knife.  Leaning closer, she chafed
her
gentleman's wrists in hopes of bringing back the circulation, willing him to open his eyes.

"Wake up!  Ohhhhh please!"  Pausing just a moment
, she buried her face in the hollow of his neck  fighting her panic.  He was much too large a man to drag from the warehouse.  What was she going to do?  "Wake up!" Again she shook him, shifting her position as she did so, wishing he would move. When he did, she wasn't prepared for the suddenness of his movement.  All at once she wasn't holding him anymore, he was holding
her
, grasping her wrist so unexpectedly that she gasped.  She tried to jerk free, but his long, strong fingers held her fast.

The fluttering f
lames of the oil lamp lit his features, casting a red glow in his blue eyes, eyes that were wide open and staring at her.   "You're not going anywhere."  His husky voice was rough with anger.

"I...I came to help you," she stuttered.  She looked up into that perfectly chiseled face so near her own.  His thick eyebrows curved sardonically over deep-set saphire blue eyes.  The mouth beneath the slightly flaring nostrils was set in a grim line.  Hardly an expression that boded
friendliness.               

"Into the n
ext world?"  he asked dryly. 

Before she could answer
, he had flipped her onto her back and was rolling over on top of her, pinning her down. He wrestled the knife from her hand.  It clattered to the floor, leaving her helpless. Such a frightening feeling.

"What are ye doing?"  The hard length of him was pressed into her softness.   "Get off o' me!"  Dawn's voice wa
s shrill, a squawk of protest.

"Be quiet, or you'll rue it.  I don't intend for you to
call your little companions,  by God I do not!"  The musky masculine scent of him teased her nostrils as he tightened his hold.  Dawn found herself held captive by strong, well-muscled arms that encirled her waist.  It was frightening yet also stirring to be held so.

"I came to set ye free, I did.  Truly....."  She was all too aware of the way they were entwined, her hip pressed intimately into his groin, their legs entangled.  She could feel the muscles of his body
as  he held her close against him.  Her full, firm breasts were crushed against his hard chest.  It was a semblance of an embrace that left her trembling, though he seemed not to be affected in the least.

"Set me free.  Ha! A likely story.  Is that why you were holding a knife?"  he returned gruffly.  "But then what should I expect you to say?" 
             

Dawn bristled
but ignored his words, not deigning to comment.  She certainly couldn't expect him to think the best of her when she had been pretending to be a doxy.  Her eyes locked on his lips and in that moment she wished fervently that she could wipe away his frown.  Oh, how she wished he would kiss her.  Just the thought caused her throat to go dry. A breathlessness assailed her, a sense of expectation that was cruelly shattered by his contemptuous look. 

"I'm telling yer the truth," she whispered breathlessly.  His body was heavy,
his hold on her so tight it left her breathless. Her head was thrown back, her mouth wide open as she gasped for air. Her nails dug into his back.

Garrick was infuriated with himsel
f.  There was something sensual about the woman.  Their struggle was actually arousing him.  Damn it! That thought enraged him, and he took his anger out on her.  She was the cause of his peril.  "You and all your kind are all alike."  With that said, he pushed away, his fingers accidently brushing the tips of her breasts, leaving a tingling trail of fire as he did so.  Slowly he rose to his feet.
              Dawn flushed but looked unflinchingly into his  angry gaze.  "As you and yer kind are just the same.  Uncaring.  Unfeeling.  Walking about as if ye owned the world.  Passin’ judgement when ye don't know a wit. Looking down yer aristocratic noses at those ye think are dirt beneath yer feet!  Well, I'm a human being too!"  Squaring her shoulders she stuck her chin up.  "One oo's down on her luck through no fault o' ‘er own, but a person just the saime.  Did ye ever think there might not be my kind if blokes like yer kind showed at least a thimble's worth of empathy or kindness!  Selfishness is all ye know.  Feeding off o' our poverty  to benefit your hoighty toighty selves like....like leeches!" 

"That's quite enough."  He ought to strangle her, he thought.  He might have
, if he was not such a gentleman.  Murdering women just wasn't in his nature. "Quite...!" 

She bit her lip to keep from crying as she stood up.  Here she had risked Black John's punishment, had tried so diligently to protect his life
, and all he could do was think the worst of her. 
Black John
!  Merry-go-up!   How could she have forgotten?  Foolish chit of a girl, there was something far more important at stake than her pride.  Think what he might of her she had to get this arrogant toff away from the docks quickly.

"Go on!  Get yer arse outta here!" she railed
, waving her hands in the air.

"I beg your pardon.....!"  For a moment he wasn't certain he had understood her.
              "Ye heard what I said.  Git!"  She mumbled a string of angry oaths. 
Obstinate, unappreciative bloke
. 
The devil take him.

"Just like that...?"  Garrick didn't trust her. His left hand tightened compulsively on her shoulder.
  "What's the game this time?"

"No game!"  Pain throbbed in a wave from her chest to her throat as she fully realized the loathing he felt for her. There was no use in arguing.  The hard glint in his eye proved he would never believe her if she spent eternity pleading her innocence. "The others will return sooner than yer know.  And if ye are still here ye'll be be fare for the body sn
atchers, ye will."

Garrick eyed her
warily.  Whether she was telling the truth or not there was no reason to stay.  "I'll consider your warning."  Bending down, he plucked up Ollie's drawings, groaning with dismay as he tried to straighten out the wrinkles.  He'd have a tough time explaining this one.   All he'd garnered from the night was a lump on his head and a headache.  So much for favors.

"'Urry!"

She didn't have to warn him again.  The thud of Garrick's heels sounded his retreat.  He paused at the door only long enough to bend forward in a long, mocking bow.  "Good night and goodbye......!"  Then he vanished into the gloom of the night.

"Aye, and good riddance!" Dawn spat the words, fighting tears of disappointment and humiliation.  Leaning against the wall she shuddered,  letting out her breath in a long, drawn out sigh, trying to quiet her pounding heart.
              The touch of his hands had set her blood afire, a feeling she remembered even now.  It was a  truth that shamed her.  By his every expression he had shown his contempt for her, but though she wanted to feel hatred for him she could not.  The truth was she would have given anything in the world to see another look in his eyes. Perhaps she would one day.  Some day when she was a lady.  Someday.  It was a thought that gave her comfort as she spun on her heel and retraced her steps, running all the way back to the tavern.

The  opening to the dimly lit labyrinth yawned behind Dawn as she climbed the last step and shut the trap door behind her. The noises of the tavern clamored in her ears as she stepped through the secret entranceway .  It was smoky in the taproom.  The coal stove belched noxious, clouds and she fought the urge to sneeze. From her place of concealment behind the wine barrels she  surveyed her surroundings from a safe distance. 

The majority of the men--
louts, thieves and river rats--were already precariously close to being in their cups if they weren't already.  Ribald songs and obscene oaths fouled the air with words Dawn had heard a thousand times or more. But now the words stung her ears as she contrasted these men with the man she had just set free.  Like comparing gold to lumps of coal, Dawn thought with a long drawn out sigh.

The sordidness of her surroundings, the humbleness of her existance
were impossible to ignore, and though she tried to push the actuality from her mind with the usual toss of her dark curls, she saw herself through the gentleman's eyes.  Was it any wonder he had looked down his aristocratic nose at her? Oh, if only there was some way that she could escape this squalidness as easily as she'd freed him of his bonds.  Run away?  To what? London and its  mean streets were the only world she knew. Reality pushed  away any dreams Dawn might have had.  Besides, she couldn't leave Robbie.  He was the only family she had left. 

Blinking back tears Dawn stepped  from her hiding place only to collide with the tall, ghoulisly thin  man Black John and her brother had hired  tonight.  His  long boney fingers dug into her shoulders as he regained his footing.  "Ah, 'tis you!  Yer brother 'as been l
ooking for ye!"

Dawn's heart skipped a beat
, yet she maintained her composure.  "I was seeing to me person, I was."

"Oh ye was....?"  His probing gaze seemed to strip her naked.  Thin lips pulled sideways into an ugly leer, reavealing several missing teeth.  Dawn tried to side-ste
p him but he blocked her way.

"If Robbie is looking for me I'd best let him find me." She couldn't hide her
revulsion for this creature.

"Don't be so haisty now.  I'd loike te get ter know ye better, if ye knows what I mean."  His fingers brushed at her arm suggestively, pinching and patting the soft flesh
, but Dawn slapped his hands away.

"Ye'll keep yer paws to yerself if ye knows wot's good...!"  Bracing herself, hands balled into fists and poised to strike, Dawn affected a stance to protect herself.  She'd never abide such an odious
wretch as this molesting her.

Piercingly dark eyes fixed on her in a cruel stare.  "Miss 'Igh and Mighty, ain't yer?  Well, I'll sees that yer is brought down from yer 'igh 'orse.  Just wait and see."  His tone of voice held warning
, and Dawn knew she'd made a serious enemy.

"Here ye are, Dawnie.  Where yer been?"  Robbie's voice had never been so welcome.  "Black John's been in
a huff, certain ye'd run off."