Page 14 of The Duke’s Man-At-Arms (The Duke’s Guard #11)

M ichaela heard a soft moan and realized there was another person in the carriage with them! “Who—”

Before she could get the question out, Haversham leaned toward her and pressed the barrel of his pistol to her temple. “Do not say another word, or I shall be forced to kill you.”

From the tone of his voice, and the illegal trade she surmised that he was involved in, she had no doubt that he would follow through with his threat.

She nodded, and he nudged a lump on the floor with his foot. “You too,” he barked, pressing his foot down hard. “One more sound out of you, and I’ll be forced to use my fists on you again.”

The whispered curse was soft, yet still Michaela heard the wisp of a sound, and she coughed to cover it.

There it was again…another whispered curse. This time she sneezed.

Haversham glared at her. “You’d best not be ill with some wasting disease from those trollops you drag out of the gutter and rehabilitate.”

She did not answer until the tip of the pistol dug beneath her chin. If it be your will, Lord, I am ready to die. “I am not ill. Something tickled my throat and then my nose.”

The barrel was eased away from her face. He grunted, then said, “I hope you will be pleased, Michaela, I have arranged for company for you.” In the faint glow of the lantern inside the carriage, she saw his expression change and quickly thanked him before he either threatened her again, or made good on his first threat.

His nod of approval had relief spearing through her. She had no idea who was buried beneath what appeared to be a pile of rags. Michaela would see to it the woman did not suffer at the hands of the loathsome man sitting beside her.

“The two of you can be a comfort to one another while I decide which one of you will have the honor of showing me just what you have learned about pleasuring a man since I took your virtue.”

Bile roiled in her belly while Michaela strove to show no emotion, no indication that she was affected by the lord’s disgusting words.

Silently, she promised herself that he would never use her ill again. She was strong, wiry, and knew where to punch a man to temporarily put him out of commission. There was no point in praying for O’Malley to rescue her this time. The length of time he had been gone meant that he was likely embroiled in another special assignment for the duke. She doubted he would return for hours, and when he did, she would be long gone with no hint of where she was being taken. This time, Michaela would have to get herself out of this situation on her own.

The pile of rags on the floor shifted, and she remembered…she was no longer alone!

The coach slowed to a stop, and Michaela sensed the hidden woman was poised to escape. But Haversham would never allow that to happen, especially after Michaela had managed to do so with O’Malley’s assistance. Risking his ire, hoping the woman beneath the rags was listening, she said, “I know it would be pointless to try to jump out of the carriage now that it has stopped.”

Their captor snorted. “So you have got some sense after all. If either of you tries to make a break for it, I would have had no compunction in shooting you in the back.”

Michaela knew that would be his response and prayed that Haversham’s other captive was listening carefully. Very carefully.

“I shall emerge first and hand you off to one of my staff. Do not try to coerce him into setting you free, or it will be the last thing you do on this Earth, Michaela. Nod if you understand.”

She immediately did so, wondering if he would keep his word and allow the two women to be locked up together. Not willing to risk challenging him—yet—she waited for Haversham to alight from the carriage and speak to the waiting footman.

Haversham grabbed hold of her arm, cruelly squeezing where his pistol ball had grazed her. The shock and stabbing pain had her gasping for breath. She blinked, desperate to regain control, lest he grab her arm again.

When Michaela opened her eyes, her gaze clashed with that of the footman. He looked far too rough to be on any lord’s staff. He had a few days’ worth of whiskers on his chin, unkempt dark hair threaded with strands of gray, and a wide smear of dirt on his scarred cheek. The flash of empathy in the man’s dark eyes caught her off guard, but was quickly replaced with a look of boredom.

“This way, miss.” The hint of a cultured tone in his voice had her wondering just who this man was. From the scar marring his cheek, she wondered if he was a second son who served in the King’s Dragoons, or mayhap of one of the king’s regiments, and had fallen on hard times. Mayhap he had gambled away his fortune to Haversham. Michaela had no doubt that among other vices, her captor was a card sharp and a cheat. The man had no honor!

When the footman cupped her elbow to steady her, she breathed a sigh of relief that he had not grabbed her injured arm. Whoever this man was, he treated her as if she were a lady and not a captive.

“Watch your step,” he murmured low enough that Haversham would not hear.

Grateful for his assistance, she slowly made her way toward what appeared to be a side entrance to a neglected building. Michaela slowed her steps as the urge to look over her shoulder to gauge the condition of the other woman filled her. Certain that her abductor would object, she hesitated for a moment, before tamping down the temptation to keep walking. She would be of no help to the other woman if Haversham shot her between the shoulder blades.

“Best not,” the footman quietly warned, confirming her suspicion.

She gave a brief nod that she understood. A moment later they were inside a long, dark hallway. They walked past a few closed doors and entered the only room where the door stood open. He leaned close and urged, “Swoon! I’ll catch you.”

A tiny inner voice told her to obey, and she was immediately swept into strong arms, held securely against a broad chest. Intent on steadying her heartbeat and breathing, she closed her mouth and inhaled, detecting a hint of sandalwood. “What do you—”

“No time. I’m a friend. You can trust me to help you escape.”

Lifting her gaze, she saw the truth of his words in the depths of his eyes and sincere expression. “And the other woman, too?”

“Aye.”

“Who are…” Her voice trailed off as she heard footsteps coming toward the room.

“Trust me and pretend you’ve fainted from being shot.”

She wanted to ask if he’d guessed as to her injury or if he knew, but the bombastic, preening voice of her captor drew closer. Michaela met the footman’s gaze and recognized the intensity and unspoken promise to protect her with his life. In that moment, she sensed they were somehow connected through her former guard, Cameron. “Were you in the dragoons?”

If she blinked, she would have missed the hint of a smile. His gaze riveted to the door and he called out when Haversham arrived, “She’s fainted, your lordship, and her arm is bleeding through the bandage.”

“I don’t give a bloody damn if she is bleeding. If she’s unconscious, she’ll be less trouble. Set her on the floor in the corner and put this one next to her.”

Michaela heard the scraping of feet…as if the other woman was pulling against being dragged further into the room. It took all of her control to fight against the overwhelming need to open her eyes. But the slight squeeze from the man who held her was his warning to keep up the pretense. She felt herself being lowered with care and wished that she had asked the man’s name. Mayhap she would have a chance to ask later.

“Should I try to rouse her?”

“Leave her!” Haversham ordered the man. “And put this one next to Michaela.”

She might not be able to see, but Michaela distinctly heard the sharply indrawn breath of the other captive. Had this woman been searching for her? Was she in need of medical assistance and more? Undoubtedly, Haversham would leave soon, and she would be able to find out. The lecherous lord had not seemed to change that much over the years, and she highly doubted his personality had undergone a drastic transformation. The man who had been one of her father’s choices as suitor would never soil his hands doing his own dirty work. He would pay his underlings to do so.

“Stand guard outside this door. I want the women secured in this room. Michaela has already escaped from a locked room.”

She fought the urge to smile, remembering how she had managed to pull the gag off her mouth. Though she had not been able to free herself, O’Malley had found her and tried to keep her from being harmed when he broke down the door to get to her.

Keeping as still as possible, she opened her eyes the tiniest slits and wished her lashes weren’t quite so thick. It was hard to see, but she did manage to see Haversham’s footman, their gaoler. The man was tall enough to block her view of Haversham, thank goodness. She had no desire to see the blackguard who had shot her.

Even as she thought of it, insidious pain caught her off guard. She lowered her lashes even more and clamped her jaw shut, able to keep quiet. She could moan later.

“I’m expecting another of Michaela’s admirers to attempt to free her.”

Stunned, though she shouldn’t be, she peered through her eyelashes again. Had Haversham heard that she had a protector who would stop at nothing to rescue her? Did the man have such vast resources and contacts in the underbelly of London? She knew for a fact that O’Malley and Garahan had far more than her contact on Bow Street, Gavin King.

“What if more than one man shows up?”

“Dead men tell no tales,” Haversham replied. “Send word immediately after you dispatch any bodies.” With that last command, he left without a backward glance. The tall man followed. Stepping over the threshold into the hallway, he closed and locked the door from the outside.

Her eyes shot open. Had she just been duped? Heart racing, breath ragged, she turned to the other woman and had to bite back her cry of dismay. The poor woman’s face was badly bruised. She had two black eyes, and one was nearly swollen shut. Michaela was about to ask the woman if she suffered any other injuries, when the captive whispered, “I’m Mary… Are you really the angel of the streets?”

“Aye. Who did this to you?”

“Not the footman—he was the one who helped me into the carriage after his lordship beat me.”

“I am so sorry this happened to you. Where else are you injured?” Michaela asked. “I’m hoping to prevail upon our guard to bring some healing supplies.” She shifted, and her ribs complained. The reminder had her asking, “Do we need extra lengths of linen to wrap your ribs?” In a bid to straighten and not slump, she bumped her arm against the wall and sucked in a breath.

“I should be asking you that. I only took a beating,” Mary said. “You’re bleeding. Did he use a knife on you or shoot you?”

“Grazed by his pistol ball when I leapt in front of my friend. She only just discovered that she’s expecting. I could not let him shoot her!”

Mary’s less swollen eye widened. “You truly are an angel.”

Michaela was having none of that, shaking her head and asking, “Has Haversham hurt you before?”

Mary sighed, and Michaela wondered if the young woman had not heard Haversham’s boast about his plans for them. “Aye. He is the reason I was forced into this life. He ruined me and left me with no other way to feed myself.” She lifted a hand to the side of her head as if to quell the pain.

Michaela asked, “Is your vision blurry and your stomach nauseated?”

“A bit, but I don’t want to talk about that now. I want to find out if you will help me expose him. Only then will there be a chance to stop him for taking out his twisted treatment on some of the other women who ply their trade on the docks like me.”

“I will gladly help you. I had thought doing my part to help others who suffered would be enough, but now I know that men like Haversham must be stopped. I have a few men that have helped me before. They will again. Do you know a big man by the name of O’Shaughnessy?”

Tears gathered in Mary’s eyes and slowly fell. “He is a good and kind man. Always pays for my time. But sometimes he only wants to feed me, or hold me.”

“You’re the one who saw Haversham’s carriage!” Michaela exclaimed.

“Aye, and the rolled-up rug he carried into the alley. I was hidden in an alcove.” Mary reached for Michaela’s hand. “That was you! I heard you call for help. I decided then that I would tell my sweet man—”

“O’Shaughnessy?”

Mary nodded. “He has spoken of a connection, he has. Two honest men who work for someone high up in Society, though his connections have feet of clay like the rest of us. Cousins born on a farm in Ireland.”

Michaela knew of O’Shaughnessy’s connection to the duke’s guard, to Darby Garahan and Emmett O’Malley in particular. “You saved my life.”

Mary shook her head. “Yet here you are again, in Haversham’s clutches. Do you know what he intends to do with us?”

“You heard him threaten to shoot me in the carriage. Did you hear his other threat?”

“Nay. Against you or me?” Mary asked.

“Both of us. I’m not sure how much time we have. He said we can be a comfort to one another while he decides which one of us will have the honor—the bloody bastard—of showing him what we have learned since he took our virtue.”

Mary shuddered. “He promised earlier that I would get another beating… He must have changed his mind. Why do you think he wants to kill you?”

Michaela knew she had to confide in the badly beaten woman. Should she not escape with her life this time, mayhap Mary would be able to get word to O’Malley and explain what happened. “He thought he had stolen more than my virtue. I think I somehow injured his pride. After he violated me, he threatened to not only ruin my reputation, but my father’s. I could not allow that, nor could I ignore the other women that I came across, those that had suffered as we have. I had no idea that I was interfering with his highly profitable business.”

Mary sighed. “It is how most of us end up working the streets. Once we are forced out of our homes due to the shame of what happened to us—”

Michaela interrupted, “We did not ask to be violated.”

Mary shrugged. “No one seems to believe that—they are more concerned with their reputations being sullied by association with us.”

“I never told my father,” Michaela whispered. “Haversham was a gentleman my father approved of. I could not take the chance that my father would call him out… He’s a physician to members of the ton . It is the only thing that kept him going after we lost my mum.”

“Would he have disowned you if he knew?”

Michaela considered Mary’s question. “No, but he would be hard pressed to come up with an explanation as to why I suddenly went abroad, when I had been a constant presence in his surgery.”

“Do you plan to reveal Haversham’s depravity?” Mary wanted to know.

“Not unless I can be assured he will not destroy my father’s reputation.”

“Then he will never be made to pay for his crimes,” Mary whispered. “Haversham has connections to a man who was recently apprehended and sent to Newgate.”

Michaela knew immediately whom Mary referred to—she’d been involved in aiding their latest victims. “Lord Ashbrook.”

“Yes. That’s the name. How did you know?”

“I helped give aid and place a few of their most recent victims in situations where they would be safe and learn a trade. Young women from the country lured to the city for a different purpose altogether. The two youngest ones were eight or nine years old.”

“He’s even more depraved than I thought,” Mary rasped. “And vindictive, if you have interfered with his thriving business. There is only one way he will ever let you go.”

Michaela lifted her chin and met Mary’s gaze, firm in her belief that O’Malley would hear what happened to her and move Heaven and Earth to find her. “My betrothed will force him to.”

“You are to be married?”

“Aye, and I’m quite certain that I am getting the better end of the bargain. I’m not sure if I can bring myself to…” Michaela couldn’t finish.

Mary reached for her hand. Instinctively, as if she sensed what Michaela had not been able to say, the young woman told her, “Not all men are rutting beasts. Some are gentle, others forceful, but still manage to restrain themselves from injuring you.”

“Really?” Michaela had no experience other than the one time. She shuddered, remembering the pain.

“My sweet man’s gentle touch belies his appearance,” Mary confided. “While I doubt he would ever offer marriage, in my dreams he does every night.”

Michaela clung to Mary’s hand. “Why is it that those of us who are the victims are forced to accept the blame for something we never sought and was beyond our strength to control?”

Mary sighed again. “The horrified reactions of those around us shape our thoughts, forcing the blame on us, rather than where it should be, on the perpetrators. For those who steal what is never offered, I believe they continue to prey on the innocent because of a need to feel the power it gives the bloody blackguards who violate us, and the fear that if they are found out, they will be exposed for who and what they truly are.”

“Depraved despoilers of the innocent who thrive on taking a woman against her will, and then threatening to expose her to Society if she so much as breathes a word of what happened.”

“Does Haversham know that you have been helping others escape from the streets of London as our angel?”

“I don’t believe so. He would have sought me out long before now if he had.”

Mary nodded. “I agree with you. It must have been when you were involved in rescuing those young women from the boarding house.”

The sound of the key turning in the lock alerted them that either their gaoler was ready to help them escape, or Haversham had changed his mind and returned. Michaela prayed it was the former, then could not help but worry what the cost of freedom would be.