Regency High Society Vol 7: A Reputable Rake / The Heart's Wager / The Venetian's Mistress / The Gambler's Heart

‘And I you, sir,’ David said.

They stared at each other a long time before Sloane swung himself into the saddle and rode away.

Sloane felt as if he’d been navigating a ship in stormy seas. Rising high on the wave, only to plummet, only to rise again. He felt buoyant now, as if nothing could ever sink him again.

He planned to grab Morgana and drag her to some room with him—his bedchamber, preferably—and keep her there until he finally convinced her to marry him. Re-experiencing his father’s hatred gave an ironic contrast to his feelings towards Morgana. He loved her.

He returned his horse directly to the stables and crossed the mews into his garden, now a fairly respectable showcase of flowers and plants, thanks to Elliot and Lucy. But when he entered Morgana’s garden, flowerbeds were trampled and torn up. Her back door was wide open. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he edged his way to the door.

As stealthily as a cat, Sloane slipped into Morgana’s house. He heard a woman crying in the library. He hurried to the doorway and peered through the crack of the door.

Elliot sat on a chair, Morgana’s butler holding a cloth against his head. Blood stained his face.

Sloane nearly leapt into the room. ‘Good God. What happened?’

On the sofa, Morgana’s maid shrieked. Miss Moore held the weeping girl in her arms. Other servants were scattered around the room.

Cripps looked up. ‘We have been attacked, sir.’

Elliot waved the butler away and held the cloth against his own head. ‘Ruffians broke into the house and abducted the women. I—I tried to stop them, but there were too many—’ He took a ragged breath.

Sloane advanced on him. ‘Who was taken?’ No one answered him at first. ‘Who was taken?’he demanded, his voice rising.

Cripps responded. ‘Miss Hart, and Misses Jenkins, O’Keefe and Green.’

‘Lucy,’ her sister cried. ‘Lucy and Rose and Katy and Miss Hart.’

Morgana. ‘Who took them?’ Good God, he must find her. ‘Who was it?’

Elliot shook his head. ‘Some ruffians. No one I know.’

Sloane ran a ragged hand through his hair. He swung around to the footmen. ‘Where the devil were you when this happened? Are you not supposed to protect them?’

One of the footmen met his challenge. ‘We were doin’ the work of the house, sir. None of us were around the drawing room. I chased after them, but they were too far ahead. I saw the carriage, but I could not catch up to it.’

Sloane said, ‘Would you recognise the vehicle?’

‘The type at least, sir. It were a landaulet I saw, sir. Shabby it was. Might have been a second one as well. I cannot say.’

‘Would you recognise the one you saw?’ Sloane asked.

The footman nodded vigorously. ‘Indeed I would, sir.’

‘Excellent,’ Sloane said. ‘I need you to change out of your livery into clothes that will not get you noticed. We are going to search for that landaulet.’

‘Yes, sir!’ The man hurried out.

Putting his hands on his hips, Sloane looked at the others in the room. ‘Who else knows anything?’

Miss Moore released the maid. ‘I was in the room. Five men rushed in and just grabbed them. They were looking for four girls. “Four, she said”, I heard one of them say.’

‘She?’ Sloane repeated.

‘Yes, I am sure he said “she”.’ Miss Moore gave a vague shake of her head. ‘I wonder if it was Mary they wanted. Not Morgana.’

‘Where is Mary?’ Sloane looked around the room.

‘Mary eloped with Mr Duprey,’ Miss Moore explained, a hint of a smile flashing across her worried face.

With Duprey? Sloane thought. Bravo for her, but who would have guessed Robert Duprey capable of such a thing?

Sloane pressed a hand to his forehead. ‘It must be the glove maker.’

‘Oh, yes, new gloves. Very nice. Very nice indeed,’ said Morgana’s grandmother, rocking in her chair and smiling.

Sloane frowned. ‘We must plan carefully.’

It was a cellar room, a room to store Mrs Rice’s wine—cool, dark, and with walls so thick no one above them could hear a thing. It also had a door with a very big lock on the outside. They had been imprisoned there for hours.

Rose rubbed her arms against the chill. ‘Where are Lucy and Katy, do you suppose?’

Morgana paced the small area back and forth. ‘In the upper rooms, I imagine. I suspect Mrs Rice will be putting them to work tonight. If she put enough fear into both of them, that is.’

Rose wiped a tear from her eye. ‘It sounded like they got a beating.’

Before they’d been locked in the cellar, they’d heard Lucy’s cries and Katy’s string of obscenities. Morgana’s stomach clenched with the memory and with hunger. She and Rose had not been given any food since being dragged through a nearly hidden door underneath the glove shop.

‘Why did they not make us do the work, too?’ asked Rose. ‘I do not understand it.’

‘I convinced them you are a virgin.’ Morgana kept pacing. ‘They knew better of Lucy and Katy.’

Rose looked over at her. ‘But why should that matter? They don’t want me to stay a virgin, not if I am to be made to do what Lucy and Katy are going to do.’

‘There are gentlemen who would pay much to bed a virgin, especially one as pretty as you. I suspect Mrs Rice will be taking bids for you.’

‘Bids?’ Rose shivered. ‘It is too awful.’

Morgana ignored the pain from the bruises on her legs and arms. She touched her cheek. One of the men had hit her hard before Mrs Rice yelled at him for spoiling the merchandise. The spot still stung when she touched it. The pain would not prevent her from putting up another fight. She would not quietly do Mrs Rice’s bidding.

‘I am, you know,’ Rose said.

‘You are what?’ Morgana continued pacing.

‘A virgin.’

She stopped. ‘You are?’ Morgana had always thought Rose came to the courtesan school already ruined, like the others.

Rose nodded.

Morgana was mystified. ‘But why desire to be a courtesan unless you…?’

‘I didn’t,’ Rose said. ‘I never desired to be one of those types of ladies.’

Morgana gaped at her. ‘Why did you come to me, then?’

Rose gave a wan smile. ‘I overheard Katy and Mary talking in the street. I knew they were talking about lessons from a lady, as you are a lady, to be sure. So I thought you would teach me some pretty behaviour, like ladies have, and that is what you have done.’

Morgana still stared. ‘But pretty behaviour for what? Why did you want to learn such things?’

‘Some of the things I did not wish t’learn.’ Rose shook her head. Then her eyes filled with tears. ‘More than anything, I want to be a songstress. The kind who has posters all over town to advertise her singing. The kind Vauxhall or Covent Garden or some such place will pay a lot of money and the newspapers will write pretty things about.’

‘A songstress?’

A tear trickled down her flawlessly perfect cheek. ‘I—I would have had employment, too. I met Mr Hook at Vauxhall and again at the masquerade. He wanted to hire me.’

Morgana was too taken aback to address the girl’s tears. ‘Who is Mr Hook?’

Rose gave a loud sniffle. ‘He is the composer of songs and organist at Vauxhall. Surely everyone knows of Mr Hook.’

Morgana almost smiled. Everyone who had a musician for a father and an aspiration to sing, perhaps. ‘Was he the balding man who attended you at the masquerade?’

Rose nodded again and swiped at her eyes with her fingers.

‘You did not wish to become a courtesan,’ Morgana said it again.

‘No.’ She looked at Morgana with her huge, glistening green eyes. ‘Miss Hart, what will happen to me now?’

Nothing, Morgana thought. ‘We must escape this place.’

‘I—I hoped Mr Sloane or Mr Elliot would come save us,’ Rose said with a shuddering breath.

Sloane. Would he even discover they were taken until it was too late—too late for Rose, and until Lucy and Katy were forced to degrade themselves? And Mr Elliot had been hit so hard. Was he even alive? Sloane would come for them when he could, she believed with all her heart. He would charge in like a one-man avenging army and wipe out all these horrible people, but Morgana could not wait for him. They needed to escape now.

Morgana began pacing again.

She grabbed one of the wine bottles and sat next to Rose on the barrel that lay on its side. ‘I have an idea…’

A few minutes later the sound of crashing glass reached the ears of the man sitting outside the locked door, and screams of ‘Oh, help! Help! Stop her. You must stop her!’

When the locked door opened, Rose was huddled in the corner surrounded by broken glass and spilled wine. She scraped at her wrist with a jagged piece and blood covered her arms.

‘You must stop her!’ Morgana begged the man. ‘Hurry.’

He rushed over to the beautiful girl, squatting down to both reach her and try to pull her up. Morgana followed him. Rose struggled and moaned that she would rather be dead. Such a lovely creature in so much distress would be difficult for any man to resist.

He was no different. While he was distracted by Rose, Morgana came up behind him and hit him hard on the head with one of the bottles of wine.

He fumbled, but did not fall. Instead, he came at her. She swung the bottle as hard as she could and hit him in the stomach, as Sloane had done to the man in the park so long ago. This man doubled over and staggered backwards.

‘I have the key,’ shouted Rose, holding it up in the air.

Morgana grabbed her and pulled her towards the door. She slammed the door shut and leaned on it while Rose turned the key in the lock.

A roar of outrage came from the inside of their cellar prison. Their captor banged loudly on the door, but would not be heard any better than they had been.

‘Are you all right, Morgana?’ Rose asked. She caught Morgana’s hand and looked at the cut Morgana had made to smear blood on Rose’s arms.

Morgana’s hand throbbed, but she said, ‘It is nothing. We must hurry.’

They made their way down the cellar corridor until they came to a staircase. Creeping up each step as softly as they could, they heard the sounds of voices above them.

‘Let us try the other way.’

Morgana led Rose past the wine cellar door where their captor still pounded and swore at the top of his lungs. At the other end they discovered the wooden door leading to the outside. It had a heavy metal bolt. Morgana’s cut hand shot with pain as she forced the bolt sideways and pushed on the door.

They were met by a crisp breeze and freedom. It was night, but the new gas lamps on nearby St James’s Street gave a faint illumination. Rose turned to her.

‘Go,’ Morgana said. ‘Return home. Find Sloane. Tell him to come.’

‘What about you?’ Rose asked.

‘I must go after Lucy and Katy. Please, Rose. Hurry. Bring Sloane.’

Rose gave her a quick hug and, after a look to see if anyone was watching, slipped out of the door into the night.

Morgana hurried back through the cellar to the stairway they’d found before. She heard voices, but she crept up the stairs and into a dark room. A sliver of light shone from under its door. Morgana groped around the room, making her way to the door. She felt something soft on a shelf against the wall.

Gloves.

She picked one up and put it on the hand she had cut with the piece of glass. It helped relieve the sting and the soft kid kept her hand supple. Shrugging, Morgana put on the glove’s mate.

Morgana inched her way to the door. She hoped to find a way to the upper floors where she supposed Lucy and Katy were kept. She opened the door a crack and peered through it. It led to a hallway at the end of which was the stairway to the upper floors. To the left was another room separated by a curtain. Morgana took a deep breath and started to cross towards the stairs.

She heard Mrs Rice’s voice coming from behind the curtain.

‘I do not care how you do it. Dispose of her. She is trouble. Have her put on a ship or something—that would serve her right—or toss her in the Thames. It is of no consequence to me as long as I am rid of her.’

Chapter Eighteen

Morgana stifled a gasp. Mrs Rice was speaking of her! Morgana had fought her captivity, and Mrs Rice had not been pleased. Morgana shuddered. The woman wanted her killed.

Even if it came to her death, she could not leave Lucy and Katy. She would see them safe or die trying.

The voices faded and Morgana rushed to the stairway, taking the stairs as quickly as she could. When she reached the top she again heard Mrs Rice’s voice, but sounding suddenly very congenial. Morgana carefully peeked around the corner. She could just catch a glimpse of Mrs Rice talking to a well-dressed gentleman.

Mr Cripps!

Her emotions flashed from elation to anxiety. What was her butler doing in such a place?

‘I should like a young lady,’ he said, sounding exactly as he did when announcing dinner. ‘Fair or red-haired would be my preference and I also like them young.’ He pulled a book from his pocket and tapped on its cover with his finger. ‘It says in this book that you provide clean, pretty girls.’

The Whoremonger’s Guide. Morgana bit her lip. And all along she had worried about his disapproval.

She shook her head. It defied logic that he would visit such a place like this the day his employer and guests were kidnapped. And Cripps was too old a man to be a rescuer. He would get himself killed.

Mrs Rice gave him a sideways glance. ‘I am certain we can accommodate you, sir. Show me some coin.’

Morgana heard the clink of coins. Lots of them.

‘I’ve not seen you here before.’ Mrs Rice spoke conversationally.

Morgana held her breath. Did Mrs Rice suspect he was not a genuine customer?

‘Indeed. This is my first time.’ He pointed to the book. ‘But it says here—’

‘Yes, yes,’ Mrs Rice broke in. ‘We shall accommodate you very well.’

Morgana dared to peek out again, but ducked back quickly when Mrs Rice turned to escort Cripps up the stairs. Wildly looking for a place to hide, all she saw were closed doors. She didn’t dare enter them. Mrs Rice and Cripps came closer. Morgana ducked into a dark corner and hoped the woman would not look too carefully into the shadows.

Mrs Rice led Cripps to one of the doors at the other end of the hall. ‘This one is a very lively girl. If she gives you trouble you tell me. I’ll teach her to behave.’

‘I enjoy a spirited young lady.’

Cripps said this very convincingly. He followed Mrs Rice into the room.

A moment later Mrs Rice came out again, saying, ‘I shall return when your time is up.’

When Morgana was certain Mrs Rice had reached the bottom of the stairs, she crept from her hiding place and tiptoed towards the room into which Cripps had disappeared.

She had just passed the stairway when a door behind her opened. ‘You there!’ a man yelled.

She swerved around and came face to face with one of the men who had abducted them. She made a mad dash for the stairs, but he caught up to her.

‘Oh, no, you don’t, missy.’ She could smell his foul breath as his hands grabbed for her.

She caught hold of the banister and tried to pull herself from his grasp, but he held on. From behind her, she heard Lucy cry, ‘Let her go!’ But other footsteps sounded and Lucy’s cries were muffled. The man dragged Morgana down the stairs, the fingers of her gloves tearing from her efforts to hang on to the wrought-iron spindles of the banister.

‘What is this?’ Mrs Rice rushed out of the curtained room. She spied Morgana. ‘Not you! Get her out of the hallway.’

‘She’s a devil, she is,’ the man said, dragging Morgana through the curtained door into a room decorated like a fine drawing room, but with a desk at one end.

Morgana could not free herself so she opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could. The man clamped his dirty hand over her lips. She bit it.

‘Ow!’ Letting go with one hand, he hit her so hard in the face she saw stars.

‘Take her out of this house!’ cried Mrs Rice. ‘I want rid of her!’

Out in the darkness, Sloane heard the scream and could wait no longer. He turned to where Elliot and Morgana’s footman stood with a still-trembling Rose. ‘I must go in. Be ready to follow me at the signal.’ He glanced at Rose. ‘If we do not come out, you get yourself home.’

Rose nodded.

Sloane slipped through the shadows, nearly invisible in his dark clothing. He headed for the wooden door where they had seen Rose emerge. He opened it carefully and went inside, climbing down the stone steps into the cellar where sounds of pounding could be heard.

A man yelled, ‘Let me out!’ from behind a locked door.

Sloane did not oblige him. He smiled, guessing it had been Morgana’s work that put the man there. He ran down the cellar’s corridor and up the stairs. Crossing the dark room to the door on the other side, he opened it a crack and heard the voices.

‘You cannot get rid of me.’ It was Morgana, speaking with bravado. ‘I will escape again. This fool cannot hold me!’

‘Shut your clapper!’ a man shouted, and Sloane heard the sound of a fist connecting with skin.

‘Kill her now, Trigg!’ Mrs Rice commanded.

Sloane rushed towards the voices, charging through a curtain into a room and straight towards a man who held Morgana by the throat.

Shocked at the surprise attack, Trigg released Morgana.

‘Sloane!’ she rasped.

Sloane knocked Trigg against a table, which shattered, spilling them both to the floor. Trigg grabbed a candlestick that had fallen to the floor. He swung it towards Sloane’s head. Morgana grasped the candlestick in both hands and held on, while Sloane regained his footing.

‘Come! Come! We need help,’ Mrs Rice screeched.

Footsteps pounded from above them. Trigg pulled out a knife and charged at Sloane, who whipped out a long dagger from his boot. The two men slashed at each other and their knives connected like swords. From behind him Sloane heard the loud report of a pistol. Instinctively he ducked and swerved to see Morgana holding Rice’s wrist, the pistol smoking in her hand.

Screeching like a banshee, Trigg came at Sloane again, so close he slashed the fabric of Sloane’s coat. Another man ran into the room and grabbed Sloane’s arms. Trigg started to jab with his knife.

‘No!’ Morgana pulled at Trigg’s arm.

‘Run, Morgana,’ Sloane commanded. ‘Get out of here!’

She flashed him a determined look. ‘No.’

From above came a loud boom, freezing everyone in their places. ‘Fire!’ someone yelled, and the scent of smoke hit Sloane’s nostrils. People could be heard coughing and running down the stairs.

Mrs Rice quickly went to her desk and unlocked a drawer. She removed a metal box. Clutching it in her arms, she cried, ‘Make way!’

As she ran out of the room, Trigg and the other man looked at each other and pelted after her. Morgana scrambled over to Sloane.

He threw his arms around her, holding her tight. ‘Morgana.’ Though the air was becoming thick with smoke, he kissed her. ‘Morgana, my love.’

She took his face in her hands. ‘I knew you would come.’

Above the din of fleeing bodies, Elliot’s voice could be heard. ‘Lucy! Lucy!’

‘Oh, my goodness! The fire! We must find them!’ Morgana pulled away. ‘They were abovestairs. Cripps, too!’

Sloane held on to her. ‘You do not have to save them, Morgana. Cripps created the diversion. Elliot and your footman will save them.’

She looked at him with a puzzled expression.

‘Come.’ He kept one arm around her and led her to the door.

When they made it to the outside, a crowd had gathered and the bell of a fire brigade could be heard.

‘Oh, I hope no one is hurt!’ Morgana looked up at smoke pouring from the high windows. ‘Lucy! Katy!’

‘Make haste, Morgana. You do not want to be seen here.’ Through the nearby alley, he took her to the back of the house. ‘No one will be hurt, love. It is smoke, not fire. Cripps set it off.’

‘Cripps?’ She gaped at him and suddenly laughed. ‘You are very clever, are you not?’

He gave her a very hard, very relieved kiss. ‘Damned clever!’ He grabbed her arm and the two of them hurried away.

‘Gracious, look what we got!’ Katy ran up to them, the footman at her side, carrying Mrs Rice’s metal box. ‘I saw her coming and tripped her. She let go of the box and I grabbed it!’

‘Oh, Katy!’ Morgana enfolded the girl in her arms.

‘Well done, Katy,’ Sloane said.

They walked to the area behind a storage shed where Rose anxiously waited. ‘Miss Hart, oh, are you all right?’

Morgana, Rose and Katy hugged each other.

Cripps stood nearby, looking very smug. ‘Had the devil of a time finding a way to set a candle under the bag, but Miss Katy and I worked it out.’

‘You did very well.’ Sloane shook the man’s hand. ‘Where is Elliot? Did he find Lucy?’

Morgana broke away. ‘Lucy?’

Cripps gestured to the side of the shed where Elliot and Lucy clung to each other. Elliot held her face in his hands and was raining kisses on it.

‘Oh, my!’ Morgana said.

‘Looks pleasant enough.’ Sloane grabbed Morgana and gave her a kiss that heated her from top to toe. She was breathless when he released her.

‘We have to leave.’ He called to Elliot. ‘Come on! This way.’

Their homecoming in Morgana’s drawing room was full of joyful tears. Miss Moore clasped Morgana against her bosom, tears streaming down her cheeks. Morgana’s grandmother smiled and said, ‘Lovely to see you, my dear.’ Amy had an equally tearful reunion with her sister and then insisted Morgana come with her to be tidied up.

Morgana had no wish to be separated from Sloane for even a flick of an eye, but knew she must look a fright. Besides, she quite longed to feel clean again.

As Amy helped her wash and chattered on about how surprising it was that Lucy and Mr Elliot had fallen in love and how grateful she was to Sloane for saving her sister, all Morgana could think of was wanting to return to Sloane’s side.

He came to save them all. As much as she’d hurt him that morning, he still came to rescue them. Morgana’s hands went to her throat, remembering the moment she’d thought she’d taken her last breath. Sloane had saved her.

‘You are bruised all over, Miss Hart,’ Amy said, though it was no news to Morgana, who felt each and every one.

She glanced in the mirror. Even by candlelight, she could see the ugly black circle around her eye. She shook her head. It did not matter. Nothing mattered except that everyone was safe. Sloane had seen to it.

‘Oh, do hurry, Amy,’ Morgana said.

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