Mistaken Identity (Saved By Desire 3)
Read Mistaken Identity (Saved By Desire 3) Online
Authors: Rebecca King
Tags: #Historical, #Romance, #Fiction, #Regency, #Victorian, #London Society, #England, #Britain, #19th Century, #Adult, #Forever Love, #Bachelor, #Single Woman, #Hearts Desire, #Mysteries, #Suspense, #Romantic Suspense, #Saved By Desire, #Series, #Star Elite, #Investigation, #Brother's Crimes, #Lodging Owner, #Strange Occupants, #Dubious Brother, #Strange Town, #Relationship, #Lies & Truths, #Criminal, #Investigator
Mistaken Identity
Saved by Desire Series
Book Three
by
REBECCA KING
©2016 by Rebecca King
The moral right of R L King to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any informational storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, either living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Further books in this series will be published shortly.
ONE PENNY SURPRISE (BOOK ONE)
TO CATCH A THIEF (BOOK TWO)
MISTAKEN IDENTITY (BOOK THREE)
A SCANDAL MOST DARING (BOOK FOUR)
HIDING ROSE (BOOK FIVE)
RECKLESS DESIRE (BOOK SIX)
THE ARRANGEMENT (BOOK SEVEN)
HOPE’S SECRET (BOOK EIGHT)
RUNAWAY GROOM (BOOK NINE)
MAY THE BEST ROGUE WIN (BOOK TEN)
The men around the table sat perfectly still. A small beeswax candle’s feeble attempt to light the room was swiftly snuffed out, shrouding everyone in darkness. The atmosphere grew tense and expectant as everyone looked at the looming black mass of the door.
“Answer it,” the boss ordered quietly.
The small, rotund man seated to the left of him hurried across the room. Rather than head straight to the door, he crept to one side of the window and peered through a small crack in the shutters.
Assured that it was who they were expecting, he nodded to his colleagues but realised they weren’t able to see him. It would be more than his life was worth to speak so he did as instructed and hurried to the door. Yanking it open, he grabbed a fistful of the courier’s shirt and hauled him inside before he slammed the door shut again. The move happened so swiftly that the man on the doorstep never even had the opportunity to open his mouth.
Once inside, the heavy thud of the bolt across the door shattered the silence. The sound appeared to be the signal for the candle to be re-lit, but it’s meagre flame did little to penetrate the blackness.
The stunned courier peered nervously through the gloom. The silence lengthened. He waited for someone to speak.
“Sit,” the tall man at the end of the table snapped.
The courier tried not to stare at the man as he perched tentatively on the edge of a seat, but it was difficult. It was the first time he had seen three of London’s hardest gangsters in one room like this. It was terrifying. Sweat began to pop out on his forehead, but he daren’t swipe at it. He knew that if he showed these men any sign of weakness, they would be on him like wolves on a rabbit. There was no possibility of him ever being able to out-run Fate. Death would be upon him before he could even reach the door.
Now that he was there, he wanted to get his task over with so he could go home again. While he waited for someone to break the unearthly silence, he took a closer look at the men present.
Alfie Gutteridge was someone most sane people avoided. A thug by trade he had, over the course of his fifty something years, become a bully by nature. His reputation was legendary; his exploits were less than pleasant even to consider. There were rumours, of course. There are always rumours about some people but whether true or false about Gutteridge nobody knew. Even the most scurrilous gossips were cautious about what they said about him. He looked harmless enough. To anybody passing him on the street, he was an ordinary, hard-working gentleman in his workman’s shirt, waistcoat, and breeches, going about his business. However, to people who knew him, Gutteringe was a murderer; a thief and a chancer best avoided.
The two other men in the room sat in the shadows, but the darkness that encased them only emphasised their menacing qualities.
The tallest of the trio was none other than Terrence Sayers himself. Just saying his name in his head made the courier blanch with fear, and he leaned back in his seat a little to put a bit more distance between them. The man positively exuded menace, even sitting down, and he hadn’t said anything yet.
Quickly turning his attention the man seated opposite, the newcomer found himself immediately pinned by the third man’s piercing glare. The whites of those bulbous eyes were nothing short of sinister. The look he levelled on him was so searching, so threatening, that the courier began to feel like one of the precious gems the man reputedly recut for Sayers. Roger Chadwick was Sayers’ master forger. According to unnamed sources, the man could forge anything. He was a jeweller’s apprentice by trade, but rather than using his skills to progress in life, he had instead turned to crime. At the moment, it was rumoured that Chadwick was busy cutting and re-setting precious gems Sayers’ associates stole to order. But, of course, nobody would confirm it. Given Sayers’ current activities, Chadwick was, by far, Sayers’ most valuable man.
“Well?” Sayers demanded.
The courier jumped.
“Where are they?” Chadwick snapped when the courier didn’t immediately answer.
“I d-don’t have them,” the courier stammered.
He closed his eyes as soon as he said the words and began to pray.
When nothing happened, he risked a tentative peek across the table, and caught the telling look that passed between Chadwick and Sayers. It meant dire things for his future he knew but was at a loss to know how to bargain for his life.
Everybody looked at Sayers, waiting for the man to do something, or say something.
When Gutteridge shifted in his seat, Sayers held up a hand and threw him a hard look of warning.
“What happened?” Sayers demanded quietly.
His manner was far too quiet for comfort. He kept his gaze locked on the table-top while he waited for the newcomer to explain what had gone wrong.
The courier glanced about the room, silently seeking reassurance from somebody. Of course, he got none. He knew there was no easy way to tell them. Although what had gone wrong wasn’t his fault,
he
was the one sitting in the chair right now. He would be the one who would pay the ultimate price if Sayers became angry when he found out what went wrong.
“I went to fetch them as instructed but we got ambushed.” He met Sayers’ steady gaze. “Someone tipped the authorities off because they were lying in wait for us. Everything we did went to plan. We would have gotten away with it as well if it weren’t for the half dozen men who came out of nowhere. They were everywhere.”
“Did anyone get caught?” Sayers asked.
The man nodded. “Bamber. He told me to get out of there. I stopped long enough to watch Bamber being carted off to prison. Then I just ran, and managed to avoid being carted off with him.”
“Where is Bamber now?”
The courier shrugged. “He is over at Standforth, I think. I don’t know for sure. Once I had taken the box from him and saw where he was going, I got out of there.”
“Where is the box now?” Sayers asked, looking a little happier at the prospect that the man had gotten the goods after all.
The courier dug around in his pocket and slapped a small square box onto the table.
“It won’t do you any good, though,” he snorted.
Now that the worst of the tension within the room had lifted, and Gutteridge had removed his vile threat, he felt more able to talk freely.
“Someone switched the contents, and it wasn’t Bamber. He didn’t get the time to tamper with them. As soon as he lifted them, he took off out of the window, but two men chased him. I was hiding in the trees. When I saw he wasn’t going to get away, I ran toward him. He threw the box at me. I stuffed it into my pocket and just ran. Everyone went one way, and I went the other. As soon as I was clear, I took a look inside. You know, just to make sure none of the contents were dropped or anything.”
“Was the box opened?” Sayers asked calmly.
“Yes. I opened it, but there was nothing inside. Look.” The courier lifted the lid of the box. “That is all that was there.”
He pointed to the small white card nestled inside the box. Sayers made no attempt to pick it up.
“What does it say?” he murmured quietly.
The courier shrugged.
“I dunno. I can’t read,” he replied with a frown.
Sayers swore beneath his breath. Rather than take the card out of the box, he lifted the candle and tipped it toward the box’s contents. He flicked the card over with the tip of one finger and swore again when he read what was on it.
With the compliments of the Star Elite.
“Did you get a good look at any of the men who captured Bamber?” Sayers asked.
“Aye, but it won’t do you any good. The men had the jailers’ cart waiting, and the magistrate just around the corner. I think they are officials. I ran, but got followed.”
“
What?”
Chadwick boomed. He stood upright and leaned across the table. He wrapped one beefy fist around the courier’s shirt and hauled him out of his chair. “You were followed yet you came here?”
“I didn’t get followed here,” the man protested, trying to break free. “They followed me out of town, but I lost them. It’s why I am late. I had to shake them off. When I last saw them, they were going toward Retterton. I came here, but they weren’t behind me.”
It wasn’t the truth of course. The man knew it would be best to shoot himself in the head rather than tell any of them the truth. He randomly picked out the village name he knew was the furthest from where they sat and hoped they believed him. Unfortunately, the men who followed him weren’t going to Retterton. They were prowling around in the village somewhere. Hopefully, he would be long gone by the time either of them caught up with Sayers, Gutteridge, and Chadwick.
“I thought you said you went back to check on Bamber?” Sayers frowned across the table at him.
“I did. I was on my way back here when Bamber passed me in the jailer’s cart. I figured it was best to get the jewels to you before they caught me too,” the courier explained.
“But the jewels aren’t here, are they?” Sayers replied smoothly.
“I didn’t know that when I left,” the courier countered.
“Retterton, you say?” Sayers looked thoughtful.
The courier nodded, and looked slyly at the others. Unless he was mistaken, he had just gotten away with telling the biggest lie of his entire life.
“There is a winding road that is going to take them a while to search. By the time they get to Retterton, we will all be long gone.”
Sayers flicked the card thoughtfully. “How many followed you?”
“There are two of them, maybe three. Two were following me most of the time. To begin with, a third man followed, but he disappeared. I don’t know where he went. I didn’t hang around long enough to find out.”
“What did they look like?” Sayers asked.
“They were both tall and about five and thirty, maybe. One of the men, the one on the dapple horse, has brown hair and is wearing black. The other is blond, riding a large chestnut horse, is also wearing black.”
“What about the third one who disappeared?” Sayers murmured. “What did he look like?”
The man sighed and studied Sayers a little more closely.
“Well, he is a bit like you, but not so tall. He was about the same build as you but with sandy brown hair. I can’t be sure, though, because it was dark. I didn’t get to see much.”
“You did well, but not so well,” Sayers replied.
“What is the card?” the lad asked curiously.
Sayers suddenly slammed the lid of the box closed and pushed away from the table.
“It is best you don’t know too much,” he replied crisply.
Dragging on his cloak, Sayers stalked toward the door. He glared at Chadwick.
“Your services are not required at the moment; it seems, Chadwick. You had better be off home,” he ordered.
Chadwick sighed and glared at the newcomer as though the lack of gems in the box was his fault.
“Gutteridge, come.” Sayers snapped.
Like an obedient dog, Gutteridge hobbled toward the door.
The courier remained seated at the table and watched them go. He daren’t heave a sigh of relief just yet, and wouldn’t until all three of them walked out of the door without a backward look. He wished now that he had listened to his nearest and dearest, and not taken to a life of crime. At times like this, he wished he was tucked up safely at home where he should be right now. He had no idea what time it was, but he felt as though he had spent a lifetime in this room. Now, he was tired and wanted to go to bed.
Just hope you are still alive to have a bed to go home to,
a stern voice warned him.
He stood. But, rather than follow everyone to the door, he waited beside the table. The candle was still lit, and couldn’t be left on, but then neither could he blow it out or else nobody would see where they were going.
Thankfully, Sayers stepped out of the door without a backward look and was swiftly followed by the ever dutiful Gutteridge. Chadwick paused beside the door and turned back to glare at him.
“Speak of this to nobody. You are lucky the boss is in a benevolent mood. People who have failed him like this have normally met their end by now,” he warned him.
“It wasn’t my fault,” the courier protested. “I didn’t take the blasted jewels.”
Chadwick paused. “I hope you haven’t,” he warned.
The courier remained silent and watched Chadwick leave. He couldn’t have said anything, even if Chadwick had waited around long enough to listen, which he didn’t. On legs that trembled, the courier waited for several moments more to give them time to get away.
Once silence had settled around him, and sleep had started to make its demands known, he carefully snuffed out the candle, and hurried out of the door.
It was wonderful to be outside again. The crisp night air was like nectar to his beleaguered lungs. Smothering his cough, he tugged the hood of his cloak up and hunched his shoulders against the night-time chill. The breath that would have fogged out before him disappeared into the thin folds of his meagre cloak. While it served its purposes well, unfortunately, it also muffled the sounds of his surroundings.
