His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 52

Charles bid his friends at Essex House good night before collecting his new servant, Tom Linley. Charles leaned back against the plush squabs of his coach as Linley scrabbled up to sit next to the coachman. He gave instructions to go to the house where Linley's baby sister was located. It was close to midnight and the baby's nurse would most likely be unamused at the disruption. Charles was prepared to pay to smooth any ruffled feathers that might arise from their late arrival. When Linley finally joined Charles inside the coach, he raised a quizzical brow.

"I asked him to take us to Bennett Street, my lord," Linley said.

"Bennett Street?" Charles sat up. "Where exactly do you live?"

"I rent a small room above the Dandy House, my lord."

"The Dandy House? You mean to tell me that you live above a gambling hell?" Gambling hells were not hellish, despite the title, but they were often rowdy and occasionally dangerous places. It was appalling to think of Linley trying to raise a baby in such a location.

"It was all I could afford, sir." Linley's face darkened and Charles felt he'd made a mistake in reacting.

"I was merely surprised you lived there. I will admit I have been to the Dandy on several occasions. Some of my friends and acquaintances are officers and they especially like the high stakes. It amuses them. I was just astonished to learn that you've been able to keep a child there."

Linley relaxed, but flinched when Charles tried once more to pat his arm.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Tis my fault, my lord. My last master only touched me when he needed to thrash something to ease his temper."

"Who was your previous master before you came to work at Berkeley's?"

"I should not say. It would not be proper to speak ill of him," Linley protested.

Charles flung up his hands. "Easy, lad, I won't demand you reveal all your secrets. Not tonight anyway. We all have devils on our backs." Charles fell silent, a rare contemplative mood capturing him.

Neither he nor Linley said anything more until they reached Bennett Street. Linley tried to insist that Charles wait in the coach, but Charles leapt out and eyed the gambling hell with mild interest.

It had been awhile since he'd tried to gamble away his vast inheritance. Men in crisp red uniforms and those of an aristocratic bearing milled about the club's front entrance, talking and laughing. A few men recognized Charles and waved. He hailed them and followed Linley down the nearest alley and to a back door.

Linley went right inside and Charles followed, rather enjoying this curious little adventure. Charles listened to the raucous noises on the other side of the thin walls as they climbed the back stairs. There were shouts and the cackles of women, cheering on the winners and consoling the losers. Such things had never caused Charles concern before, but he was suddenly seeing his lifestyle through the eyes of the young lad ahead of him. Someone who was bearing a great responsibility by caring for his baby sister all on his own. It was admirable, and right now he felt quite the opposite.

Linley paused at a single door at the top of the stairs and rapped his knuckles in an odd pattern. After a moment the door opened a crack.

"It's me, Mrs. Bertie," Linley said.

The door opened more fully, allowing Linley inside. When Charles moved to follow him a rotund woman in her mid-thirties blocked his path.

"Eh, Linley, who's this, love? I thought ye stayed clear of them lords who fancied lads..." Mrs. Bertie's implication that he had such intentions made Charles wince.

Charles had no qualms with what other men did in their private lives, but abuse was easy to come by, and sometimes where wicked desires and vices were involved, people got hurt.

"That is Lord Lonsdale. He's an earl, Mrs. Bertie, so please be on your best behavior and let him inside." Linley strode straight for the wooden cradle against the wall. A bundle stirred where Linley bent his head over the cradle's edge. Mrs. Bertie eyed Charles with deep suspicion before stepping back and allowing him in.

"So, Linley love, ye were late, I expected ye hours ago. It'll be costin' ye double since I missed time with them gents downstairs."

Mrs. Bertie seemed unfazed by Charles's presence and turned her attention back to Linley who had started to gather his few belongings into a cloth sack.

"I...I can't pay you extra tonight Mrs. Bertie, but in a week I will have enough to settle my debt."

"I want my money now!" Mrs. Bertie hissed in annoyance.

Linley blanched just as Charles stepped between the woman and the lad.

"My dear, charming Mrs. Bertie, I am sure we can reach an agreement. The lad is now under my employ. I will advance him his wages to see you well paid for your services." Charles took Mrs. Bertie's hand and palmed several coins into her hand. Mrs. Bertie's eyes widened in shock before she leaned around Charles to look at Linley.

"What message?"

"He wants me to know he can get to me and to my friends. The cat never left the Sheridan house. Someone grabbed him and brought him here. My enemy, the League's enemy, may be ready to strike."

"The League?"

"Yes. You might as well get used to the name. My friends, Viscount Sheridan, Baron Lennox, the Duke of Essex and the Marquess of Rochester and I are sometimes referred to by the society pages as the League of Rogues. We adopted the title in jest, but it seems to have stuck."

"So this enemy, he wishes to destroy this League?" Linley asked.

"Yes."

"Do you know who he is?"

Charles gave a slow nod as he looked down at the body covered in the cloth. He had a wretched feeling deep inside that Muff was the first casualty in the war that had been simmering for years.

"Sir Hugo Waverly. I believe he means to kill us all eventually," Charles predicted. A heavy shadow fell across Linley's face. "The worst of it will be breaking the news to Cedric and his sisters. They're damned fond of this little scamp. It's a blessing they're in Kent. I couldn't bear to watch the girls hear the news. Women crying is the worst thing imaginable. I never say or do the right thing to stop the blasted waterworks." Charles tilted his head back, heaving a sigh.

He tried not to think about how the cat had died. The choice of execution was no coincidence. Charles shuddered, remembering the sensation of cold water strangling him, smothering his nose and mouth, blinding his vision as he sank beneath the dark waters, weights attached his legs, and his hands bound so he couldn't swim. Yes. There was no doubt who committed this sin against an innocent creature.

"I wish we could bury him, but the ground is frozen. We'll have to cremate him. It might help console Lord Sheridan and his sisters to know that the poor creature was cared for," Linley suggested.

"That is a very considerate idea. We'll handle it tomorrow." Charles ran a shaky hand through his hair. Waverly was upping the stakes.

"It seems you may have chosen an ill time to take on a new employer, Linley," Charles muttered. Linley buried his face in the blankets around little Katherine, planting a kiss on the babe's forehead as though to ward off evil. But Charles knew better. Tender kisses and thoughts of love would not save anyone from Hugo Waverly.