Kisses and Scandal (Survivors) Page 8

  The coach slowed and stopped, and the other man grabbed her arms and began to shove her out the door of the carriage.

  “Leave her. I’ll do it,” James said.

  “No!” Phil shot back. “Don’t ever touch me again.” Someone threw a coat or blanket over her head, and everything went dark. She stumbled down the carriage steps, but then James—she would know his touch anywhere—took hold of her. His grip was much gentler but still firm as he guided her into a building and down a flight of stairs into what must have been a cellar. It was damp and cold, and she wanted to turn and grab onto James. She wanted to beg him not to leave her there alone.

  But she still had some pride. She straightened her shoulders and when he lowered her to the floor, she pulled her knees close to her chest. James removed the blanket from her head and draped it over her. It was a horse blanket, but she didn’t object. She didn’t know how long she would be down here, and her muslin dress would not keep her very warm.

  A lantern hung on a peg near the stairs, its weak light illuminating the cellar. They must have taken her to an abandoned shop. The cellar was littered with broken crates, tables, moldy fabric that might have been curtains for the shop window at one point, and a few old hats. Had this been a haberdashery? Where was she? She could hear the clatter of horse hooves outside, but they were distant. She doubted anyone would hear if she yelled—not until things quieted at night.

  James crouched before her. “Listen, Phil.”

  “I am Lady Philomena to you, scoundrel.”

  He closed his eyes briefly as though in pain. “Me lady, I’ll be back as quick as I can. Ye won’t be down here long.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t care if I ever see you again.” That was a lie. She wanted very much for him to come back. She had begun to tremble as soon as he mentioned leaving her alone here. She tried to still her body, not wanting him to see her weakness.

  “Phil—me lady—if ye’ll just let me explain.”

  “What’s to explain? You and those two men planned to abduct me and collect the ransom. You applied at Southmeade as a footman in order to find out my routines and habits. You seduced me in order to gain my trust—"

  “No!” His voice was harsh. “That was never part of it.”

  She gave him a dubious look. “So you never lied to me?”

  “I lied about my work experience to get the position, but I never lied about how I felt about ye. I didn’t want to feel what I felt after I met ye. I tried to call off the plan, but I couldn’t convince the others. I care about ye. I have since I first laid eyes on ye. Ye have to believe me.”

  “I don’t believe a word that comes from your lips. I hope you and your friends are found quickly and all hung by the end of the week.”

  He reared back almost as though she’d hit him.

  She didn’t care. Let him feel the sting of betrayal. “I won’t even shed a tear. That’s how much I hate you.”

  He rose slowly and took a step back. “I suppose I deserve that.”

  “Oh, you’d best not ask me what I think you deserve, you liar.”

  “Regardless, I’ll be back for ye. I won’t leave ye down here.”

  She twisted away from him. “And I’m supposed to believe you? For all I know, you three will slit my throat and throw me in the Thames at nightfall.”

  “No harm will come to ye, me lady.”

  She gave him a look of disgust and turned away, clutching the old blanket close.

  Eight

  Reluctantly, James lifted the lantern from the hook and carried it up the cellar stairs. He didn’t like leaving Phil in the dark, but he couldn’t trust her with the lantern unless he bound her, and he wouldn’t do that.

  At the top of the stairs, he opened the door then closed it again and turned the key in the lock. The back room of the old hat shop in Covent Garden was dusty and dark. At a wobbly table, Patrick and Sean sat waiting for him.

  “Sounds like the lady is none too pleased with ye,” Sean said. “Ye didn’t tell us ye seduced her.”

  James didn’t speak. He merely folded his arms and glared at the two of them. “Why didn’t ye let me know yer plans? What sort of fools are ye, abducting her on the street?”

  “Ye should have told us she would be at a card party last night,” Patrick shot back. “But maybe that detail slipped yer mind. Or maybe ye never planned to help us with this scheme at all. Maybe ye thought to run away with her and keep all the blunt for yerself.”

  “That’s a fine opinion to have of me, so it is.”

  Patrick crossed his arms and leaned back in the rickety chair. “Then why didn’t ye tell us about the outing last night? Come to think of it, why did ye never tell us about any of the lady’s outings?”

  “Ye left me at the big house for months while ye went off pursuing other schemes. How could I tell ye?”

  Patrick looked at Sean. “Ye know what I think?”

  Sean nodded. “I’m thinking the same thing.”

  “What’s that?” James asked.

  “Yer a liability.” Sean rose.

  “What?”

  “Ye heard him,” Patrick said. “It’s a big fancy word, so yer sure to cozy up to it. And all this time we thought ye were on our side.”

  “I am on yer side. I just don’t want to involve the lady.”

  “Then ye have another plan to get blunt? Our families are getting thinner by the day, and sailing to America doesn’t come cheap.”

  “I don’t have a plan yet, but if we sit down and talk awhile, we can come up with one. Let’s return the lady first.”

  “Return the lady?” Patrick shook his head. “There’ll be no returning the lady. Not until her ma pays the ransom in the note we sent.”

  James felt all the color drain from his face and an icy cold freeze his cheeks. “You sent the ransom note already? Are ye an idiot? We’re done for now.”

  “Ye have that right. Ye are done for.” Patrick nodded, and James realized too late he’d not been keeping his eye on Sean. He looked around, but he was too slow. The heavy piece of wood slammed down on the back of his head, and he toppled to the floor, the world dimming to a dull gray around him.

  One of them pulled the chair away from him and gave him a swift kick in the belly. James figured it was Patrick. He’d always been the crueler of the two. James grunted, but didn’t try to get up. His head felt as though a horse had sat on it. He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

  “What do we do with him now?” Sean asked, his voice sounding as though it came from the end of a long tunnel.

  “Put him in the coach. As soon as it’s dark, drive him out of Town and dump him on the side of the road. If he survives and he’s found, he’ll be thrown in Newgate.”

  “What will we tell his sisters?”

  Patrick gave James another hard kick to the ribs. “We’ll give them a portion of the blunt and tell them he fell overboard on the voyage to America.”

  James groaned as Sean lifted his arms and dragged him out of the back room and into the alley where the coach waited. The idiots hadn’t even unharnessed the horse. Sean opened the carriage door and lifted James then shoved him in. When the door closed, James tried to open his eyes, tried to rise to his knees, but the darkness dragged him down.

  PHIL SHIVERED IN THE damp, cold darkness. She didn’t know how long she’d been down here. She’d heard arguing, the men’s raised voices, but they had quieted now. Had they left her here? Would they leave her here to die? She had quietly felt her way to the steps and climbed to the top. But when she tried the cellar door, she found it locked. She hadn’t tried breaking the lock or kicking the door open, but she was growing desperate.

  Still, her first idea was probably her best. She would call for help when the noise of coaches passing quieted. There was more chance she’d be heard then—if anyone was still about to hear.

  In the meantime, she sang songs to herself, little lullabies she remembered from childhood. It was odd
ly soothing to huddle in the old blanket and sing to herself. She liked to remember when she’d been a child and her biggest worry had been whether her governess would make her finish her French lesson that day. As a child she had much preferred playing in the gardens at Southmeade, especially on sunny days. She liked to pick flowers and pretend they were part of her bridal bouquet. Sometimes she and her older sister would make crowns of them and pretend to be brides.

  How silly she had been then. How silly she had been the last few months to ever think James had loved her. He had used her. Her mother had always told her marrying for love was imprudent. Now she saw she should have heeded her warnings. If she’d just married one of her suitors from any of the Seasons she’d had in London, she would not be in this predicament.

  But no, she’d wanted love. She’d wanted the fluttery feeling in her belly she felt when James looked at her. In the end, it was all a lie.

  She heard footsteps on the boards overhead and held her breath. She didn’t want to hope it was James, but she also did not want to stay here any longer. Please, she prayed silently. He could have the money if only he’d let her go free.

  The sound of the key fitting into the lock made her gasp in a breath and rise to her feet. The door at the top of the steps swung open, and a weak yellow light slanted down the steps. Phil squinted at even that much light penetrating the blackness around her.

  The man started down the steps and she realized it was not James. She couldn’t see very well, but James didn’t move like this man. This man seemed to prowl.

  “I hope ye haven’t been waiting long,” the man said.

  It was definitely not James. Phil moved back a step, trying to fit herself into a small corner. “Where is James?” she asked.

  “Oh, James, is he? Ye two are good friends, I see.” The man paused at the bottom of the steps and hung the lantern on the hook.

  “Where is he?”

  “Gone,” the man said. He had dark hair and blue eyes with a slash of brows above them. “He left ye with us. Said we could do what we would with ye. He’d gotten what he wanted, so he had.”

  She shook her head. “You’re a liar.”

  “Am I? Then where is he, me lady?”

  As she didn’t have an answer for that question, she didn’t speak. The man moved closer. “Seems like James and yer ladyship became rather good friends while he was at yer country house. Isn’t that right?”

  She didn’t answer. She did not like the way he looked at her.

  “James says yer as sweet as a summer peach. He said I should take a bite.”

  “No,” she said, her voice surprisingly forceful. “You won’t touch me.”

  “How will ye stop me?” He looked around. “No one is coming to help ye.”

  “I’ll scream.”

  “No one will hear ye. Scream all ye like.”

  He advanced on her, and she scrambled back. The wall was behind her, and it offered no protection. He lunged and she fell sideways, toppling over a stack of crates. She grabbed one and threw it at him, but he easily sidestepped it. She grabbed another, and one of the wooden slats broke off in her hand. She clutched it, wielding it like a knife.

  “And what do ye think to do with that, lass? Stab me?”

  “Get back. Leave me alone or I will hurt you.” She wanted to hurt him, to wipe the smirk off his face. He was actually enjoying this. It was a game to him, while she shook from fear and rage.

  He feigned another lunge, and she swiped at him with the shard of wood before she realized it was just a trick.

  “Boo!” he said and pretended to reach for her. This time Phil stood still, clutching the piece of wood so hard she could feel the splinters through her gloves.

  He lunged again, and she saw too late that he meant it. He grasped her arm and yanked her forward, shoving her to her knees. She held on to her weapon as he came down on top of her, effectively trapping her arms under the weight of their combined bodies. “Get off me!” she said between gulps of air. She struggled to free her arms while he struggled with her skirts. A few wild kicks made him curse as she connected with some soft, fleshy part of him.

  And then he grabbed her shoulders roughly and shoved her to her back. Her head hit the floor, and she blinked up at him as he raised his hand. “Maybe ye like it rough.” He slapped her so hard her ears rang. For a moment, Phil couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Pain bloomed in her head and her face, and it consumed her. And then she felt his hand on her legs, and she shook off the pain and raised her hand.

  The broken piece of wood was still in her grasp, and she brought it down hard on his back. He let out a piercing howl then looked at her with a feral rage in his eyes.

  WHEN THE COACH DOOR opened, James didn’t move. It was easy to lie still. Moving was the real challenge. Someone prodded his legs, and James didn’t react.

  “Good,” the man muttered. It was Sean, not Patrick, and James was thankful. Patrick would have been smarter than Sean. He wouldn’t have left James unbound.

  Sean pushed James to his belly and tried to position his arms behind him. Apparently, he intended to bind James now. Then he’d take him out of London and dump him somewhere. James had not fought his way through the pain and blackness to succumb to Patrick’s plan. He couldn’t leave Phil. He waited until Sean had both arms behind his back and then had to lean over him to position the rope. That’s when James reared back and caught Sean in the jaw with the back of his head. Sean groaned, and inside his mind, James screamed.

  The pain was blinding. But he didn’t need to see. He rolled over, groped for Sean’s coat, grabbed hold and punched him. The punch went wild, striking Sean’s temple. Sean hit back, hitting James hard enough in the chest to make his lungs burn. James fought his way to his knees and threw his weight at Sean, sending them both crashing to the floor of the coach. The horse snorted, and the coach lurched. It was exactly what James needed as it threw Sean off balance. He fell over and James was above him.

  Ignoring the throbbing in his head, he grabbed Sean by the neck and slammed his head down onto the hard-wooden floor under the straw. Sean struggled to free himself, but James slammed his head down again and again until Sean didn’t move.

  Then James backed out of the coach, pausing to steady himself with his back to the conveyance. Fighting Patrick would be harder, and James summoned all his strength then lurched into the back room of the shop the men had been using. As soon as he was inside, he heard Phil’s voice. “Get off me!”

  The cloud of pain dissipated, and James’s focus narrowed. The door to the cellar was open, and a faint light illuminated the stairs. Clutching the thin railing, James started down. He immediately spotted two figures on the ground, one beside the other. The light reflected off Phil’s honey-blond hair, spilling out of her coiffure and onto the dirty ground. She looked up at him as he raced to her side. “I’ll fight you too, if I have to!” she said.

  “Jaysus, Phil.” James shook his head. “Ye know I had no part in this.”

  She seemed to crumple, and James caught her. She pushed him away then gave in to his touch.

  “Are ye hurt? What did he do? I’ll kill him, I will.”

  “I think I might have already killed him,” she said weakly. He wanted to hold her tighter. He’d never seen her looking or sounding so frail. Instead, he turned his attention to Patrick, who lay on his face with what appeared to be a knife sticking out of his back. But when James finally released Phil and moved closer, he saw it was a piece of wood.

  “I stabbed him with it,” she said, wrapping her arms about her body. “Twice. I had to.” Her voice broke, and James gathered her in his arms again. She didn’t fight him this time. He pulled her to her feet, both of them unsteady, and moved her toward the stairs.

  “Shh, lass. Of course, ye did. Ye had no choice. Sit here now. Give me a minute.” He lowered her to the steps, and her head fell in her hands and she began to weep. James would take her in his arms again in a moment, but first he took the lantern
and moved closer to Patrick. With one foot, he nudged his former friend. Patrick grunted and one arm flailed back, trying to reach the wood in his back.

  He moved back. “He’s still alive, lass. Come upstairs with me before he regains his strength.”

  She stared at him. “I don’t understand any of this. Why are you helping me now?”

  “I’ll explain everything. Upstairs.” He helped her to her feet and together they climbed the steps. At the top, James closed the door and locked it. Then he led Phil to a chair. “Sit here a minute while I go tie up the other one. I don’t want them running before I call the constables.”

  He went out, returned to the carriage, and took the rope Sean had intended to use to tie him. After securing Sean, James started back in, had to pause a moment to wait until the dizziness faded, then went to his knees before Phil. “Christ Jaysus, me lady. I never meant for this to happen. Are ye hurt? Did he touch you?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. He slapped me, but I’ll be fine.”

  James drew in a sharp breath. “I could kill him for that. I would too, if he wasn’t already going to the hangman. Can I leave ye for a few minutes to look for a constable?”

  She grabbed his hand tight. “No! If you fetch the constable, you’ll be implicated too.”

  It was true enough. “Isn’t that what ye want?”

  She gave him a hard look then closed her eyes. “No. God help me. I still care for you.” She whispered the last. “The constable will lock you up.”

  “Sure and well I deserve it too. I should have reported those two long ago. I was a fool to think I could protect ye from them. Ye were right to think I betrayed ye. I was part of their plan at the start.” He told her about life before Dublin with his parents and siblings, how their family had lost everything and been forced to move to the slums of Dublin. Then he explained how he’d met Patrick and Sean. He told her the plan they’d made. “But then after I met ye, after I started working at Southmeade, I knew I couldn’t do it. For months now I’ve been trying to think how to keep ye safe.”