A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(55)
He really did have a powerful presence, even out here in the street. She wondered Kitty could stand it. “What is the matter?” she asked in alarm. “Is something wrong with my sister?”
“It’s more myself I’m concerned with. See to the gentleman, Smith. He is bound to be tiresome and I’d rather not have any delays.”
“Charles?” Verity twisted in alarm to look at him and felt a sudden slice of pain at her waist. “Ow. What are you...?”
“I wouldn’t struggle, my dear. I might hurt you. Things are a little desperate for niceties, I am afraid. Just keep walking.”
Her first thought was to pull out of his grip, gather up her skirts and run for safety. Her second thought was that she couldn’t because if Captain Eastwick was absent from home, Kitty and Ann might be arriving in Grosvenor Street any moment. Further thoughts were petrified into non-existence by the flash of steel in Captain Eastwick’s hand and the realisation of what the increasing pain at her waist had been caused by.
“Stay still, Verity, he has a knife,” called Charles urgently. There was a workmanlike set of thuds behind her and then he was on her other side massaging his knuckles. “Shocking manners your colleague has got, Eastwick. We hadn’t even been introduced. Train him yourself, did you?”
“Damn you, Congreve. As you see, I have a blade pressed against Miss Bowman’s ribs. If you don’t want her blood on your hands, you’ll stay out of this.”
“There would be more chance of a river flowing uphill than that,” said Charles.
“Where are you taking me?” said Verity. “And why?” She didn’t try to keep the fear out of her voice as she was hustled along. If Captain Eastwick thought her cowed, he might relax his hold. Had Adam seen them? He had won prize purses for rough fighting in his younger days. Pray God he was following.
“We are going, my dear sister, to a private establishment I frequent. Your friend Mr Congreve is more than welcome to accompany us. He may lose some money while we are occupied. The whist is of a particularly high standard.”
Occupied? Susan Norris and Hannah came vividly to mind. Perspiration sheeted off her. She faltered, only for another prick from the knife to spur her on. This couldn’t be happening. They could not be being abducted in broad daylight. Why was Charles not tackling him? It was to his credit that he daren’t risk her being injured, but surely it would be far harder to escape once they were at their destination?
“How did you know where I was?” she asked.
Captain Eastwick smiled with satisfaction. “Errand boys. No one ever notices them. My lad hears you say there’s no need for a hackney just to go to Grafton House. He tells me. I come here. Information is currency, my dear and there is always someone poorer than oneself. The boy gets a farthing. I stand to get a great deal more.”
Verity’s voice rose. “More? What do you mean? What do you want of me?”
“Not your body, or only in a manner of speaking. I need your money, my dear. I owe a considerable sum to a gentleman who is being rather pressing over the repayment. Unfortunately, he has made his displeasure known by disrupting my usual supply of funds. Now, while I am owed a significant amount myself, the fellow who owes me has even less cash than I. He does, however, have his liberty, hence this scheme.”
“You are mistaken, Captain Eastwick. I have no money.” They were hurrying so fast through the gradually thinning crowds that she had lost all sense of direction. Every turn was accompanied by a wrench on her arm or another sharp pain at her waist. She had the ludicrous and fantastically ill-timed thought that if she’d worn long stays this morning rather than a more flattering short laced bodice in order to captivate Charles, she wouldn’t be in nearly such a bad way now.
“You have a legacy.” They slowed at last, she was pushed through a narrow alley and into a small, grimy courtyard.
Captain Eastwick opened a door. There was a lantern hook above it, and inside was a cream painted hallway. At one stage the embellishments had been picked out in gold. It would still, no doubt, look reasonably opulent by candlelight. In the light of a cold October day, it revealed itself as shabby and in need of a good clean. A menacing individual made to shut the door as soon as they were through, but was thwarted by dint of Charles leaning on it until he too was inside.
“Pray let me go,” said Verity, wishing this was a bad dream she could simply wake up from. “You are under a misapprehension. My legacy is conditional. I will not be able to benefit from it for six months.”
Captain Eastwick gave a humourless laugh. “So Kit informed me. A quaint conceit. It will nevertheless be yours once you marry, isn’t that how these things are always arranged, Congreve?” He prodded her past an open doorway on the left of the passage where several gentlemen could be seen at play, and indicated a door on the right. “Behold, madam, your bridegroom.”
The room was stuffy with stale alcohol fumes, and crowded with tables. Soldiers, merchants and gentlemen lounged around them playing at cards, dice or backgammon. At their entrance, one of the officers at the table by the window rose to his feet. He smirked and made an ironic bow. “We meet again,” he said.
Verity stared in horror at Lieutenant Neville.
“I... I cannot...”
“I’m afraid you will have to. I cannot stall my creditor any more. Come, it won’t be so bad. Neville is nearly as pretty as I was in my heyday, and you’ve not heard Kit complaining, have you? Stand up straight, girl. The priest is here with a blank licence in his pocket. We’ll even clear one of the rooms upstairs for your wedding night.”