Page 48 of The Devil’s Waltz

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Mr. Chippie,” she said, suddenly nervous. “I had no idea you were expected.”

He pushed his way into the room, closing the door behind him.

He was a very large man—not as tall as Christian but far bulkier, and his air of bonhomie had vanished.

“I don’t believe I was,” he said. “But when a bleedin’ bastard the likes of Christian Montcalm blackmails me and then goes back on his word then there’s no doubt what Josiah Chippie will do about it.

To him and to those who helped him.” He glanced around the shabby little room and sneered before turning his attention back to Annelise. “Sit down, Miss Kempton.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Sit down before I make you.” He didn’t wait. He pushed her so hard she fell back into the chair, and it almost toppled over beneath her. Shock spurred her reaction and she bounced right back out of it again, slapping him across the face.

A mistake, she realized in retrospect. Josiah Chippie was not the demi-gentleman she’d thought him to be, and as her father had warned her, one should never hit someone who’s likely to hit you back.

His fist slammed against her cheekbone and she fell back against the oak casement, tumbling to the floor as she held her face in shock.

“And there’s more where that came from, missy,” he sneered.

“You should never underestimate Josiah Chippie—I figured such a starched-up spinster would have the sense to know that. But you have no sense, have you? You let that bastard Montcalm carry off my daughter, and then you stayed to spread your legs for him, as well. You’re as great a whore as m’daughter, Miss Kempton, for all your fine ways. And I’ll be teaching you a lesson.”

Annelise didn’t move. Her face throbbed, and she’d caught her hip on the hard wood, but she knew if she rose he’d either hit her again, or she’d try to kill him.

Since the only weapon in sight was a silver knife and fork from the abandoned tea tray, and he was wearing a heavy leather coat across his impressive paunch, she decided her chances were not good. She stayed where she was.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Chippie,” she said in a frosty voice, trying to ignore the fact that her mouth hurt from where he’d hit her.

She had come up with so many varied stories to explain her sudden departure from London that she couldn’t remember which one they’d settled on as the least destructive. “Your daughter isn’t here.”

“Of course she’s not. She’s off with that Dickinson boy, and it’s your family who’s hiding them.

It took me long enough to track them down but I know they’re somewhere north of here.

My men are searching for them, and they’ll be bringing them here before much more time passes.

I’m not sure what will happen to your family—my men aren’t noted for their gentlemanly restraint, but you can tell yourself it was all your fault in the first place for interfering in my plans. ”

“I didn’t interfere,” she said, close enough to the truth.

“Hetty was miserably unhappy and she gave in to Mr. Montcalm’s blandishments and went off with him.

Knowing that you’d never approve of such a match, I enlisted Mr. Dickinson’s aid and went after them and we were able to arrive before Montcalm had even attempted to molest her.

” Of course, then Will and Hetty had gone at it, but she certainly didn’t need to apprise this dangerous bully of that fact.

“My daughter’s happiness is of no concern to me. She had a duty to perform, to marry well, and she’s both failed me and shamed me in the face of society. She’ll learn her lesson since clearly I haven’t taught her well enough in the past.”

The man sounded positively evil. “You wouldn’t hurt her!” she protested inanely, given that he’d already slammed his fist against her face. If he’d hit a stranger, a well-bred member of society, then he’d have no qualms about beating his own.

His laugh was mirthless. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about your family and your own safety. You have a pretty young niece of no more than fifteen, do you not? There’s a lot of damage a rough man can do to an untried girl.”

Annelise stared at him in disbelief. She wanted to throw up. He couldn’t mean the horrible things he was saying—he was just trying to scare her.

“How did you know I have a niece?”

“Oh, I know all about you. Miss Kempton. I had you thoroughly checked out, even before I brought you into my house. I have ways of finding out everything, including that your drunken father deliberately killed himself and made it look like a riding accident, leaving you penniless and at the mercy of strangers. I’m sure he had no idea you were going to end up being at the mercy of me. ”

She slowly rose to her feet, watching those hamlike fists warily. Her head was still spinning and her entire body hurt, but she wasn’t going to cower in a corner. “Where are the Brownes?” she demanded.

“They’ve been taken care of. Tied up and locked away. Put up quite a fight, they did.”

“But Christian isn’t even here!”

“Of course he’s not. He’s exactly where I want him to be. About to meet a knife across the throat and a watery grave.”

Annelise sank down on the window seat, trying to catch her breath. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s off on a wild-goose chase, thinking he’s going to find a long-lost brother.

He’s fool enough to grasp at straws, and his friend was easy enough to bribed.

By now he’ll be at the coast, meeting up with what he assumes to be friendly smugglers.

I expect they’ll wait until they’re out to sea before they kill him, but the deed may already be done. ”

“But why?” she demanded. “He didn’t hurt your daughter!”

“I’m past worrying about my daughter’s feckless choices. The man knows far too much about me to return to society and start wagging his tongue. Any man who crosses Josiah Chippie and then threatens to expose him has signed his own death warrant.”

“You think I’m not going to tell people what you’ve done?” she demanded. “That you struck me?” The moment the words were out of her mouth she realized how unwise they were. Particularly with Chippie’s unpleasant smile.

“You’re not going to be telling anyone anything,” he said. He cocked his head to look at her with a judgmental eye. “You won’t fetch much, but if I cut out your tongue it should improve your price.”

“My price?”

“I traffic in human goods, Miss Kempton. Something that wouldn’t go over too well in the society that still accepts the money that comes from it.

Not just Africans, but young women from the poorer ports of Europe and North Africa.

There’s a large market for women with pale skin in the brothels of Arabia, and even with your drawbacks you should still bring in a pretty penny. ”

“You’re mad.”

“Not at all, Miss Kempton. I’m a businessman. I haven’t made up my mind whether you’ll have my daughter for company in the hold of the ship. Now that I’ve decided to cut my losses there are still a great many ways to make up her value to me.”

She hid the shiver that swept over her at his cold words. “No man would pay money for me, Mr. Chippie,” she said. “And I would ensure my behavior would make me even less appealing than my physical defects.”

“Oh, you’re not half-bad when it comes down to it.

A little old, and much too tall, but you could still fetch a decent price.

And we make certain the women are well broken in before they land on the auction block.

It’s surprisingly easy to break a woman’s spirit if you know how to do it.

I might just take over that little task myself. ”

She believed him. She would rather be hit again with those brutal hands than have them on her for any other reason, and she’d kill him before she’d let him. If she had anything to kill him with.

She rose, slowly, so as not to alarm him into another cruel action. “What if I tell you I won’t fight?”

He nodded. “It would be the smart thing to do. If I know my men there’s not much left of your family, and Montcalm will be dead before dawn.

Putting up a fight will just make things more unpleasant for you.

Someone will still be cutting out that infernal, nagging tongue of yours, however. Probably me.”

She tried for a seductive smile. It felt stiff and wooden on her face, and she expected the side of her mouth was swelling, but she was a desperate woman.

Who had just spent a very instructive night.

“If I’m to be a slave I would think there’d be reasons a man might want my tongue intact,” she said in a silken voice, moving toward him.

“Particularly if I’m well trained in certain arts. ”

She’d managed to surprise him. His laugh was unpleasant.

“You’ve been having a good time with Montcalm, haven’t you?

Filthy lecher. But your point is well taken.

We’ll just make certain you’re sold into a place where no one speaks English, and it’ll be up to them whether they want to limit your value as a whore.

I expect someone will kill you before the year is out, but that’s of no consequence to me. Well-bred women seldom survive long.”

She hid her horrified reaction. “You’ve done this before?”

“A number of times. M’poor wife didn’t even make it off the ship.”

“I don’t understand why you hate me so much, Mr. Chippie. I’ve never done you any harm.”

His laugh was humorless. “You’re just like all of them. Thinking you’re better than me, just because you were born to a drunken lord who killed himself and left you without a farthing.”