Earl of Scandal (London Lords) (18 page)

He paused on a landing, and called out again. The devil take him if both Charles and Merissa were out. The thought of waiting around in this place was intolerable!

“Charles Cassell,” he called again. “I’m a friend of your sister’s. I met her in Derbyshire. Elizabeth is frantic to make certain you’re all right.”

There was the sound of a door creaking. Christian hurried to the end of the hall and pushed the door the rest of the way open. Charles Cassell stood before him, blue eyes desperate. “Elizabeth,” he breathed, “she sent you?”

“Yes.” Christian glanced around the stark, poorly furnished room. “Where’s Merissa?”

“She went to run an errand for me. Who... who are you?”

“I don’t suppose Merissa mentioned me, did she?” Christian said with a hint of bitterness.

Charles shook his head, then went rigid. “No,” he said coldly, “she didn’t mention you, but I half guessed she must have met a fellow of your sort. She’s changed, she is. There’s a sadness in her eyes now, and she talked a lot about giving up her dreams. Didn’t sound like Merissa at all. She’s always been so sure she could have what she wanted.”

Feeling irritated, and a little guilty, Christian said, “Are you certain it isn’t your circumstances that have disillusioned her?”

“Don’t think that it is,” Charles said, his voice growing belligerent. “So, what have you done to her?” He raised his fists as if ready to engage Christian in a fisticuffs. “If you’ve dishonored my sister, you’ll have me to deal with!”

Christian rolled his eyes. Heaven save him from cork-brained, self-destructive whelps like this one!

He glowered down at the youth, whom he overtopped by several inches and outweighed by two stone. “Frankly, Mr. Cassell, if I were you, I would worry about my own behavior and its effect on my sister before I started looking elsewhere to lay blame. It seems to me that you’re the reason she’s here in this... this dung heap!” He gestured toward the foul stairwell. “How could you possibly allow her to run an errand for you around here? Surely you realize it’s not safe for a lady, indeed for any woman, to go about in this part of town.”

“Her errand is not around here, it’s in Jerym Street,” Charles said. “Besides, there was no way I could have stopped her. Merissa does what she wants. She always has.”

“And don’t I know it,” Christian sighed. “What about Jerym Street? What business do you have there that you thought Merissa could settle for you? Why didn’t you go yourself?”

Charles looked discomfited. “I thought that Mr. Crockett might take pity on her and perhaps give me another chance.”

“Crockett? Jerym Street?” Christian reached out and grabbed the young man by the collar. He hoisted him up so they were eye-to-eye. “Tell me that what I’m thinking isn’t true! Tell me that you didn’t send Merissa to see Blackjack Crockett, the proprietor of the most notorious hell in London!”

Charles’s eyes bugged out and he gestured wildly. Fearing the young man would suffer a fit of apoplexy, Christian released him. “I... I couldn’t stop her,” Charles panted. “I... tried but there was no help for it. If you know her ... you must understand.”

“Yes, I suppose l do.” Christian set his jaw. Merissa Cassell’s mule-headed willfulness was going to be the death of him.

He jerked around and started for the door. “Where are you going?” Charles asked.

“To rescue your sister.” He faced the young man. “Although etiquette does not require it, l would like your agreement that I should bring her back here by any means possible. What do you say, Charles?”

Charles nodded vigorously. “And I’d like to say, sir...” He extended his hand. “I meant no offense with what I said earlier. I can see you’re a gentleman. That you’ve only Merissa’s best interests at heart.”

Christian smiled grimly as he shook with Charles. “Thank you, Mr. Cassell. It’s not often I am the recipient of such extravagant praise. I fear few enough of my acquaintances count me a gentleman. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ve a damsel to rescue.”

Twelve

Christian rapped sharply on the door and waited for the porter’s window to slide open. It did so, and a man’s eyes regarded him suspiciously. “State your business,” the man said.

“I’ve come to see the proprietor.”

“Crockett’s busy now. Come back in a few hours. The gamin’ don’t begin until half past eight.”

“I did not come for gaming. I came for information. I’m Christian Faraday, earl of Bedlington. If you let me in to see your employer, I’ll make it worth your trouble.”

The peephole slammed shut and there was a fumbling at the lock. The battered looking bruiser who opened the door regarded Christian with a mixture of deference and wariness, then, extended his hand for the bribe. “Crockett might not be in the best temper. Already had a visitor interruptin’ him.”

“Could it possibly have been a young woman?” Christian dropped a couple of shillings in the man’s hand and tried to keep his voice calm.

The porter pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It was at that. Is she someone to you, guv’nor?”

Christian ignored the porter’s probing look. “Why don’t you go announce me to your employer? I’m in a bit of a rush.”

He was shown into a superbly furnished office. Observing the Moroccan leather furniture, the carved wainscoting, the pure gold inlaying, and the ebony wood desk, Christian realized he was looking at the losses of dozens of unfortunate gamesters. Many of them were probably much like Charles Cassell, too naive to realize what was happening until it was too late. A strong urge came over him to do better than to settle the young man’s debts. If he could find a way to close down this hell and save some other innocent youths, he would have accomplished something worthwhile.

But first, he must make certain that Melissa was safe. Then he would deal with Crockett.

There was a slight sound behind Christian,’ and Blackjack Crockett entered the office. The elegance of his attire contrasted dramatically with the brutal ugliness of his face. “My lord.” He extended his hand.

Christian declined to return the gesture. There were times it was gratifying to be a peer. “Let me get to the point.” He made his voice as condescending as possible. “A friend of mine is in debt to you. I believe his sister has already been to see you and spoken of the matter.”

There was a hint of surprise in Crockett’s chilly gray eyes. Then it vanished. “Miss Cassell is an acquaintance of yours?” he asked casually.

“Indeed. Quite a close friend. I hold the whole family in great esteem.”

Crockett steepled his hands. “Charles Cassell owes me a fair piece of blunt, yes. And since he is an acquaintance of yours, he must be a gentleman and realize his obligation to pay his debts.”

“Not debts that occurred under duress and coercion. I don’t think there is any obligation under those circumstances.”

Crockett smiled without warmth. “The young man knew exactly what he was about. He came here of his own free will.”

Christian gave a derisive snort. “Like a lamb to the slaughter. He had no idea how deep the play would be, how much he could lose in a few hours.”

“Are you calling me a cheat?” Crockett’s voice was silky quiet, almost inaudible.

“Certainly not. I’m calling you a menace, a scourge upon the foolish young men you lure to your lair and ruin.”

Crockett laughed. “It’s all perfectly on the square. You can’t touch me and you know it.”

“Oh, but I can. I have the resources to ruin you. All I have to do is bring a group of my deep-pocketed friends here one night and play against the bank. One of us is bound to win and win heavily, more than you can possibly afford to pay. Unless your dealers cheat, and then we’ll destroy you by that means. As you said, it’s a gentleman’s endeavor. Once your reputation’s finished, there’s no way to get it back. You’ll be reduced to gammoning green young flats. And since most of them can’t afford to pay, there’s no percentage in that.”

“What do you want?” Crockett’s face had turned hard and murderous. As the carefully cultivated aura of refinement vanished, Christian realized he was looking at a common thief from the streets.

“I want you to forgive Charles Cassell’s debt. I also want you to be more discriminating in your clients. If I hear you’re gulling any more callow youths, I promise you, I’ll carry out my threat to close you down.”

Crockett glared at him, but Christian could see he was considering the proposal. Crockett knew he was overmatched. The weight of Christian’s influence and financial resources were sufficient to crush him.

Crockett strode to the desk and opened a ledger. He dipped a quill into ink and crossed out a line in the account book. “There,” he said. “Charles Cassell is no longer in my debt.”

Christian nodded, wondering if Crockett would honor the rest of the agreement. At least he’d tried. But there was only so much one could do to save fellows like Charles Cassell from themselves.

Christian showed himself out and climbed into the rented vehicle. Gads, he felt wretched! The stresses of the last few days were catching up with him. And he still had Merissa to deal with.

~ ~ ~

“Christian? He was here?” Merissa gazed around the cluttered room in dismay. “How did he find us?”

“I don’t know, but he did. Why didn’t you tell me you’d turned the head of an earl?” Charles demanded. “Why, if you were to marry him, it would make all the difference. He’d be able to settle me up with Crockett, buy me my colors...”

“No, I’m certainly not marrying Chris... Lord Bedlington. Not to mention that he hasn’t asked me. And even if he did, I’d say no. He’s a hedonistic, depraved, unprincipled—”

“He seemed a nice enough fellow to me,” Charles interrupted. “A real Corinthian. How the devil did you ever meet him, Merissa? Didn’t know you traveled in such high-toned circles.”

“I met him when he nearly ran me off the road due to careless driving. I should have known what he was like then. Forget good manners, I would have been wise to have left him to freeze to death!” She swallowed back a rush of panic. Christian had followed her to London. What was she going to do? She still had her pelisse on, as she’d barely got in the door when Charles informed her of their visitor. Perhaps she should leave immediately, in case Christian came back.

“Bosh, ‘Rissa, you’re just being stiff-necked and stubborn about this. If this fellow can help us, we have to let him. I don’t see any way out otherwise. Not unless you were able to convince Crockett to let me pay him a pound a week for the rest of my life.”

Thing about Worth—he enjoys causing pain.
Crockett’s chilling words echoed in Merissa’s mind. She had failed to convince him to accept a reasonable settlement, and they were in desperate circumstances. Perhaps if they returned to Whytcliff, Crockett would fail to pursue them. Maybe that was the means of escape.

“Get your things together,” she said sharply. “We’re leaving London.”

“Now, see here,” Charles complained. “I don’t think you should be so quick to reject Lord

Bedlington’s interest in you. If you met him in Derbyshire and he followed you all the way here, that means something.”

“It means he feels guilty,” Bitterness flailed her. “He probably wants to apologize. It seems he has some absurd desire to win my regard. I can’t imagine why.”

“Maybe he cares for you. I mean you’re, well, you’re not a ‘diamond of the first water’ but you are pretty in a different sort of way and you do have wit and spirit. Some men fancy that, I’ve heard.”

“Hmmph,” Merissa said. “You know as well as I that Chr... that Mr. Faraday knows dozens of beautiful and accomplished women. Why would he favor me over them?”

Seeing the doubt on her own brother’s face made the pain inside her intensify. Of course, Christian didn’t want her. He was merely amusing himself, trying to see if he could make her fall in love with him. She was a challenge, a means for him to prove to himself that he really was irresistible. “Conceited fop,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, then more firmly, “Get your things together, Charles. I don’t want Mr. Faraday to find us here.”

Charles grumbled but did as he was told. Merissa sat down wearily on the narrow bed. She wanted to lie down and sleep for a week. She wanted to stop being in charge and making decisions. Sighing, she got up to help Charles stuff his few remaining possessions in a battered valise.

~ ~ ~

As soon as they reached Rosemary Lane, Christian climbed out of the hackney and gave the driver a handful of coins. “Please wait. I’ll be back shortly with some other passengers. I hope.”

He hurried to the dilapidated building and up the stairs. Going straight to the door at the end of the hall, he knocked. He heard muffled noises but the door failed to open. He knocked harder. There was more whispering and rustling. He was on the verge of breaking down the flimsy structure by force when the door opened a crack and Charles Cassell peered out. “Yes?” he said.

“Did Merissa come back? I didn’t find her at Crockett’s and I’m beside myself with worry.”

Charles darted a glance back inside the room, then said, “No, she didn’t. I can’t imagine where she’s gone.”

He started to close the door, but Christian forced it open and pushed past him. As he’d guessed, Merissa was there. She had on her wrap and was carrying a valise.

“We were just leaving.” She started to move past him.

“You can ride with me,” Christian said. “I’ll take you to my town house. I have any number of female servants to attend to you. And Charles will be there, so it’s perfectly respectable.”

She paused before reaching the door. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Merissa, be reasonable. You can’t stay here. It’s...” He looked around the tiny, squalid room. “... appalling.”

“We’re leaving London,” Charles put in. “Going back home where we belong.”

Christian felt a twinge of alarm. What if Merissa returned to Whytcliff and refused to ever see him again?

He put his hand on her arm. “You surely can’t mean to travel today. It’s almost dark. Please stay the night at my house. I promise not to distress you.”

Merissa started to pull away. Charles nodded. “Got to leave London,” he said. “Don’t want Crockett to send anyone after me.”