Wicked Wager (33 page)

“You might want to hurry. Although Penny’s unharmed, I imagine she’s quite uncomfortable.” Withersby gave an unpleasant laugh.

Marcus left the hell, his thoughts whirling. How could he trust a fiend like Withersby? For all he knew, Penny was already dead. Even if she wasn’t, there was no guarantee Withersby would release her if the ransom was paid.

What the devil am I to do?

He thought about returning to James’s, but all his friend had done was raise doubts about Penny. He’d implied she was a part of Withersby’s scheme and had been gammoning him all along. It was true some of her behavior had been suspicious, but still… He recalled the way she melted in his arms, the passion with which she kissed him, the warmth he’d seen in her eyes when she gazed back at him. Could even the most consummate actress be so convincing?

All his instincts told him no. What had he done for the past ten years but live by his instincts? Although he prided himself on playing the odds and being clever at card games, wasn’t the real reason he was so successful because of his ability to size up his opponents? He’d known exactly what Withersby was when he met him. He might not have guessed the extent of the bastard’s greed or utter ruthlessness, but he’d known he was a deceitful, cunning little cheat.

In contrast, when he met Penny, he’d been impressed by her guileless innocence. Although it turned out she wasn’t quite as innocent as she appeared, he truly believed that at her core she was an honest person. He thought of the care and concern she had for her horses…the kindness she’d shown to his servants and Lily. She’d easily won the affections of Maggie, Jeremy, and even Bowes. If he told his household staff about the ransom note, he had no doubt they’d all insist Penny had no part of it. He might be a fool who’d lost his head over a beautiful woman who given him the greatest pleasure he’d ever experienced in bed, but there were plenty of other people who trusted Penny and believed she was kind and good and incapable of deceit.

At Park Street, the townhouse came in view. Marcus suddenly knew what he must do. He’d collect the money, or at least enough of it to convince the greedy Withersby he’d gotten his hand on a good bit of brass. Then he’d insist Withersby take him to Penny. If he refused, he’d find a way to make the bastard change his mind.

****

Closing her eyes, Penny used all her strength to tear through the strip of fabric binding her wrists. Although she’d managed to rip a portion of her bonds with her teeth, the fabric still held fast. Sighing, she raised her hands. Her mouth felt raw and sore, but she had to keep trying.

She caught a piece of the fabric in her teeth and resumed gnawing. At least Adrian hadn’t tied her with rope. Then it would have taken days to get free. As it was, she didn’t know how long she had before he returned. It felt as if she had been there for a long while, but it was likely only a few hours. Once Adrian delivered the note to Marcus, he’d have to give him some time to gather the money. That is, if Marcus decided to pay the ransom.

The familiar panic threatened, but she forced it away. She wouldn’t depend on Marcus paying up. She’d escape long before then.

Of course, once she was free, Penny still faced difficulties. Adrian had taken her reticule with her money. All she had was the clothing she wore. Where should she go? If she showed up at James’s townhouse, would he and Lily help her? If she asked them to take her in, she might well end up endangering them.

She couldn’t think about those things; she had to focus on getting free. Seizing the ragged piece of fabric binding her wrists, she chewed fiercely.

****

“I’m back, you little prick. Now, take me to Penny.”

Withersby sat up in the chair, looking startled. A moment later, his gaze focused on the valise Marcus was carrying. “That’s it? You have the money?”

“What I can carry. Guineas are dashed heavy.” Marcus held out the valise. Withersby grabbed it and put it on the bed to open it. He gave a delighted laugh, then reached in and ran his hands through the gleaming coins.

Marcus felt a stir of gratification. He’d filled the valise with the flashy gold coins, guessing they’d please the greedy Withersby, and he wouldn’t take time to count them and realize there was only a few hundred pounds there.

Withersby finally looked up, his eyes narrowed. “This is only the beginning payment, of course. I’ll need the rest before I take you to Penny.”

Half-expecting this, Marcus drew the pistol from his pocket and aimed it at Withersby’s head. “You’re wrong, Withersby. You’ll take me to Penny now.”

“Do you expect me to believe you actually mean to use that? Are you prepared to buy off the half-dozen fellows in the gaming room who saw you come back here?” Withersby smirked. “You don’t want to risk hanging. The bitch is surely not worth that, is she?”

Marcus clenched his jaw. He might have guessed the slippery little weasel would have an answer for any threat he made. And yet, he was fairly certain that under his cocky, smug demeanor, Withersby was a coward. “I never said I’d shoot you, Withersby. I might just use the pistol to break every bone in your face.” Marcus motioned toward the gaming room with his head. “You think anyone out there will care if I do that? Especially when I explain how you’ve repeatedly sought to cheat me out of the property I won fair and square.”

A muscle twitched in Withersby’s face. Marcus reversed his grip on the pistol and advanced closer. “Think I’m too soft to hurt you? Think again.”

As Marcus raised his arm, Withersby’s bravado melted away. “All right. I’ll take you to her!”

Marcus nodded and lowered the pistol. He watched warily as Withersby closed the valise and picked it up.

“You first.” Marcus motioned with the pistol toward the door.

Withersby gave him a hate-filled look, then left the room, his body bent sideways as he carried the heavy valise.

“I could carry that for you,” said Marcus, faintly amused by Withersby’s weakness.

“I think not, you bastard,” muttered Withersby.

They walked out of the hell, passing through the gaming room, where they received a few curious glances. Marcus had put the pistol back in his pocket but kept a firm grip on the hilt.

They went out to where Jeremy waited with the coach. “Where are we going, Withersby?” Marcus asked. “I need to tell the driver.”

Withersby was sweating and his face was red. Glaring at Marcus, he gave an address off Radcliffe Highway.

Marcus made certain Withersby was in the carriage before telling the footman their destination. Jeremy raised his eyebrows when Marcus told him the address. “That’s an evil part of London, sir.”

“I know.”

“Be careful, sir.”

Marcus nodded grimly. Although he felt he could handle Withersby, he worried the wretch might have an accomplice. Even with a pistol, he’d have difficulty dealing with two men. Not to mention that by simply being in this unsavory neighborhood, he might be putting himself at risk to be attacked and robbed.

He got in the carriage. Across from him, Withersby leaned back on the squabs, his expression sullen. Despite his apparent acquiescence, Marcus worried his adversary was still scheming, trying to come up with some way to flee with the money. “It would be easy to shoot you right here,” he warned Withersby. “Dump your body in some alleyway and drive off. In the neighborhood we’re traveling to, no one would care about how you died or who killed you.”

“But you’d never find Penny then. She’d slowly die of thirst and hunger, and it would be your fault.” Withersby smiled, seemingly cheered by this thought, while Marcus felt a surge of frustrated anger.
Curse the bastard! What has he done with her?

When they arrived at their destination, Marcus’s unease increased. The street was nearly deserted, except for a group of raggedy children who watched them drive past, their hollow eyes revealing a cold cunning that seemed at odds with their youth.

“This one.” Withersby pointed to a narrow, two-story structure that appeared on the verge of falling down. After knocking on the carriage ceiling for Jeremy to halt the vehicle, Marcus climbed out. Withersby followed, carrying the valise. When Marcus gave him a questioning look, Withersby said, “I’m not about to leave it in the rig.” He jerked his head toward the children. “This sort of place, they’ll rob you blind.”

Marcus nodded, then gestured to the building. “You go first, Withersby. And don’t forget, I’ve still got the pistol at the ready.”

Withersby opened the door, which was nearly hanging off its hinges. Inside it was dark and stank of damp, urine, and worse. Marcus repressed a shudder, thinking of Penny trapped in such a place.

Withersby started up the narrow stairs. With every step, the floorboards creaked and groaned. Marcus tried to stay close to Withersby and yet move cautiously, lest the stairway collapse beneath them.

By the time he reached the top, Withersby had put down the valise and was turning the doorknob. “Penny?” Marcus called out. “Penny, are you there?”

“She can’t answer. I put a gag on her mouth.”

“You bastard,” Marcus muttered.

Withersby held the door open. “After you.”

Marcus breathed a deep sigh.
At last.
“Penny. It’s Marcus. Don’t worry. I’m here.”

Desperate, he started forward. Too late, he saw movement behind him. Then everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Penny leaned back against the seat in the mail coach, trembling with fatigue and nerves. What an ordeal! Getting loose had been only the beginning. Then she’d had to walk for what seemed like miles, all the while fearing she’d be set upon by footpads or ruffians. What likely saved her was she didn’t look like she had anything to steal, which she didn’t.

How fortunate that the driver of the first hansom she encountered was a man she’d hired in the past. Because she’d always paid him well, he’d agreed to take her to the mail coach station without charge. At the station, she’d had to convince the mail coach driver that when they reached the village near Horngate, the tavern keeper there knew her and would pay the fee. It helped she was a well-dressed female and obviously alone and in distress.

She took a deep breath, willing the last waves of panic to subside. If she could reach Horngate, she’d be safe. With luck, Adrian would assume she was still in London and had gone to Marcus or James for help. She hoped he didn’t threaten them. Her stomach twisted at the thought. As soon as she got to Horngate, she’d send them a message, warning them about Adrian. In the meantime she could only hope that with her gone from London they wouldn’t be in danger.

Of course, Adrian would eventually figure out where she’d gone. But by then she’d be ready for him. She thought of her father’s pistols, hidden in the cabinet in the library. She doubted they were loaded, but Tad or Mr. Foxworthy would know where to get ammunition. Then they’d teach her to how to shoot and she’d practice until she was able to hit her target.

She imagined herself holding a pistol, aimed square at Adrian. He’d never believe her capable of shooting him, but he would be wrong. She thought she’d be quite capable of killing him if she had to. Quite capable, indeed.

****

Marcus let out a groan. Damn, his head hurt! What the devil had happened? Where was she?

Gradually, it came back to him.
Penny! I was trying to find Penny!
Withersby had brought him to this place where she was supposedly tied up.

He got slowly to his feet, groaning as his head throbbed even more fiercely. Feeling the back of it, his hand came away damp with blood. Damn! How could he have been so foolish as to let Withersby get the best of him?

Ahead was the room where Penny supposedly was. The door was ajar. He pushed it all the way open. Enough light came through the broken window for him to make out a narrow bed, a table with an empty gin flask and a chair. He went to the chair. Discarded on the floor beside it were some strips of fabric. Marcus bent to pick one up, despite the piercing pain in his head. It looked as if it had been gnawed through by rats. The other pieces, when he examined them, were intact. He felt around on the floor. Halfway under the bed, he found a small button, probably from a woman’s glove.

Marcus straightened. It did appear Penny had been here, but now she was gone. Had Withersby set her free, or simply taken her somewhere else? It seemed unlikely he would release her. She was the only bargaining chip he had. He would hang onto her and try to get more money.

In some way, knowing Penny had been tied up was a relief. That meant she hadn’t been part of this. The cold farewell note she’d written him had been coerced. If he could find her and set her free, they might still have a life together. But only if he could get her away from her deranged cousin before he killed her.

Goaded by that thought, he left the room and started down the stairs. On the way he suffered a bout of dizziness and had to lean against the wall until it passed. Finally, he made it outside. Squinting into the fading twilight, he saw the coach was gone. He reached into his pocket. The pistol was also missing. Curse the bastard!

Now what should he do? He was alone in east London without a vehicle, a weapon or…Marcus felt in his pocket for his tasseled coin pouch. It was also missing. He had no money either.

He could walk until he found a hansom. But with his aching head and churning stomach, it sounded like a formidable prospect. Yet, there was no help for it. He couldn’t stay here.

He started walking, trying not to appear too unsteady. He’d made it a short distance when footsteps approached behind him. Someone was following him. Or several someones. He whirled around and knew a vague relief when he realized he was being pursued by a group of children—four hollow-eyed, raggedy children.

“Evenin’ guvnor,” called out the largest one. “Out for a stroll, are ye?”

The way the four were eyeing him made Marcus nervous. But surely he had nothing to be afraid of. The eldest one couldn’t be more than ten. And he might be able to get some information from them. He was fairly certain he’d seen them on the street when he and Withersby arrived.