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Chapter Nineteen

Georgie had been tempted to go straight from the coal cellar to Rafferty’s apartment, Rafferty’s bed, but she was uncertain of her welcome.

No, that wasn’t true—he would yell at her and make her leave, the dratted man.

But there was a good chance he’d kiss her again, and even in her innocence she knew that kiss would be even more dangerous than the one the previous night.

She made him misbehave, and it was a glorious power to wield.

If he hadn’t said please, she would have crossed the coal cellar and kissed him, and he would have kissed her back, she was sure of it.

And God, she wanted him to kiss her back.

But he’d said please, and she knew that meant not showing up in his bed as well, and besides, she wasn’t certain she was ready to strip off her clothes and lie down for him.

She knew the details of what that would involve, but a part of her was rightfully wary.

Not as strong as the part who wanted to experience it, but her nerve had not quite reached the sticking point.

Her plan was simple. Entice Rafferty to take her to bed and he’d have no choice but to marry her.

Her family would be horrified, but she’d never been of much importance in the scheme of things, not like Norah the beauty or Neddy the heir, and they would reconcile themselves soon enough.

There should be enough money to buy a small cottage in the country and Rafferty could.

..what could he do? Without a household to run, he’d have to go back to his old ways, and she’d figured out enough to know those were dangerous indeed.

He’d killed men, he’d said. He consorted with people like the criminal Billy Stiles.

He’d have to go back to that if he were no longer their butler, and she expected her father would draw the line at that.

There was no sound from the cellars—Rafferty hadn’t followed her, and she sighed. She needed a better plan, and there was only one person who could possibly help.

“What are you doing still awake?” Martina had appeared at her bedroom door, looking in to see that her charge was asleep. Tonight, Georgie had tucked herself into bed, piled the pillows behind her and waited. “And what’s that on your face?”

Georgie quickly lifted her hand to her cheek and came back with dark powder. “Coal dust,” she said.

Martina came into the room and closed the door behind her. “And how did that come about?”

Georgie decided to go straight to the point. “I followed Rafferty into the coal cellars,” she said. “He didn’t like it.”

“I expect not.”

“He’s searching for something in the house. I’m sure of it.”

Martina didn’t appear surprised. “Well, if he is, it has nothing to do with you, so leave the poor man alone!”

“Why is he a poor man?” she asked reasonably.

“Because you follow him around like you’re a lovesick puppy dog and...oh, no,” she finished weakly. “You’re not.”

Georgie didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I’m in love with him.”

“I warned you not to be. He isn’t for the likes of you. He isn’t for the likes of anyone. Rafferty’s a lone wolf, always has been. He hasn’t got room in his life for a woman, much less an infatuated little girl.”

Fire sparked through her. “I’m not a little girl, and I’m not infatuated. I’ve considered it quite calmly. I’m in love with him, I’m going to marry him, and you’re going to help me.”

Martina’s sternness vanished, and she sat down on the bed, her full skirts bunched around her. “Georgie, he’s not the marrying kind. And even if he were, a young lady does not marry a butler.”

“I’m marrying this one,” she said determinedly. “I just have to convince him.”

Martina laughed, not unkindly. “That’s like teaching a dog not to hunt.”

“He’s in love with me too,” Georgie said, sounding more sure than she really felt.

To her amazement, Martina didn’t laugh again. “You’re deluded, Miss Georgie. Oh, I don’t deny that he’s got an eye for you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid you the way he does. But he’s not going to do anything about it. He’s not going to ruin you.”

“What if I want to be ruined?”

“Bless the girl!” Martina said. “You don’t want that. Stay a child until some nice safe gentleman comes along. Rafferty is no good for you, no good for any woman.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m in love with him, and I’m going to have him.”

“He won’t marry you. You’ll be a butler’s trollop. I can’t think of anything much lower than that.”

“It sounds lovely to me.”

“No!”

“And you’ll help me.”

“No!”

“Because he loves me too.”

“Rafferty doesn’t love anyone but himself,” Martina said firmly.

Georgie lifted her eyes and looked at her. “Are you so sure of that?”

For a moment, Martina said nothing, as if she were considering an impossibility and finding it possible. “I won’t argue with you, Miss Georgie. You must have a plan. What were you thinking? That you might lock him in a room and have your wicked way with him?”

Georgie made a face. “I don’t think I could do that. He needs to be the one who locks us in.”

Martina sat back. “We’ll find you a nice gentleman to marry. Like that Mr. Salton.”

“No.”

“And you want me to help?”

“Yes, please.”

Martina let out a heavy sigh. “Go to sleep, Miss Georgie, and dream safe dreams. That’s the closest you’ll get to Rafferty, and some day you’ll thank God for it. There are separate classes for a reason—the two shouldn’t mix.”

“You’re a snob, Martina.”

“Most definitely. Go to sleep now.”

“I will if you promise to help me.”

“I can’t. For your sake and for Rafferty’s. It would just lead to disaster.”

Georgie’s eyes filled with tears. “I want a disaster. I want chaos and madness and passion! Most of all, I want Rafferty! I’ll die without him.”

“People don’t die of love, Miss Georgie. Go to sleep.”

“I’ll be the first. Help me, Martina.”

“I can’t,” she said. “He’s no good for you.”

“Then I’ll do it myself.”

Billy Stiles was nowhere to be found. Rafferty had headed out into the streets of London, down by the docks where Stiles made his home, but there was no sign of him, when the midnight hours were his usual time to be about.

Rafferty could scarcely go to the small fortress where Stiles lived—Dagger Fanning was out of commission, but there were any number of bully boys out to ensure Billy’s safety.

He was going to have to get him alone if he was going to kill him, and there was no question about it.

Billy Stiles was a threat to Georgie, and as such, couldn’t be allowed to live.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t killed before.

There was the tavern brawl where someone pulled a knife, and it had been him or them.

He’d survived that without a trace of guilt, and he’d survive Billy’s death as well.

His organization would fall apart without him, and he was sure Billy hadn’t shared the details of the judge’s hidden cache with any of his henchmen.

Billy was a man who liked to play things close to the vest, and once he was gone, there’d be no one to threaten the Mannings.

But he’d never killed a man in cold blood before—it had always been in the heat of battle.

Billy was too smart to fight with Rafferty—Rafferty was half a head taller and a great deal stronger than Billy.

In fact, there was always the strong possibility that Billy had ordered Rafferty’s death.

Dagger Fanning hadn’t been acting on his own.

But the midnight streets of London showed no sign of him, nor of anyone else who might have wished Rafferty harm, and until he finished with that particular threat, he couldn’t abandon the feckless Mannings. Couldn’t abandon Georgie. No matter how hard staying around her was.

Rafferty moved down the street at an easy pace, acutely aware that he was being followed.

It wouldn’t be Dagger Fanning—he wouldn’t be doing anything for a good long time, and Billy Stiles wouldn’t trust him to anyone else.

No, it was Billy himself shadowing his footsteps in the middle of the night as he walked toward the docks.

Stiles wouldn’t underestimate him—he’d know that Rafferty was well aware of him. Stiles wasn’t out to kill him that night—he would have already made his move. No, this would be in the way of a warning, a demand, a threat, but nothing more.

He wished he didn’t have so much of the damned gentleman’s code of honor left in him. It would be simple enough to cut back, circle around and finish Stiles quickly and silently. But his august grandmother would be horrified, and he suspected he’d have a hard time living with himself.

He stopped by the bridge and waited, making no effort to disguise his impatience. It didn’t take long for Billy to catch up with him.

“Enjoying the night air, Rafferty me boy?” Stiles greeted him, his mouthful of teeth glowing in the moonlight.

“I was,” he said evenly. “What do you want?”

“What do you think I want? Belding’s ill-gotten gains, that’s what. And you’re taking a mighty long time to find it. Seems to me I ought to pay a little visit to the house on Corinth Place meself, see what I can find.”

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Seems to me that pretty little girl of yours might encourage you to work a little faster. She don’t know who you are, does she? None of them do. You’d be out on your arse so fast you wouldn’t know what hit you.”

“And I wouldn’t have access to whatever fucking hiding place Belding decided to use. If I haven’t found it yet, what kind of luck do you think you’ll have?”

Billy smiled benevolently, his dark black eyes shining murder in the lamplight. “Why, I’d tear the place apart, brick by brick, until I found it. I’ve got enough men to help me, and there wouldn’t be all this shilly-shallying around.”

“You don’t think the police might notice if you had your men invade the building?”