Chapter 13
Amelia awoke in her room the next morning heaving and touching her chest, her heart pumping wildly, and her heightened senses arousing her. She kept her eyes closed for fear the dream might dissolve into nothingness.
Lust, this wicked ache for him, was maddening as she felt the heat between her legs. The excitement bombarded her as if she were deprived of human contact. In truth, she had been deprived of everything for so long.
Opening her eyes, she replayed her dream in her mind. Lord Blackthorn was nude in all his glory, seducing her and promising her things she dared not repeat out loud. He caressed every crevice, every part of her body with soft kisses, and she begged him not to stop as he lowered himself farther until he reached the apex of her sex, his tongue caressing the hot spot. Oh, how her body ached for him; that is, until he suddenly turned into a giant serpent and proceeded to swallow her whole.
What the bloody hell did this mean?
That he couldn’t be trusted? All the doubts and worries she kept deep in her heart surfaced in one big wave of emotion. What if he changed his mind about their agreement? What if he demanded children? What if he challenged the marriage contract between them in court and demanded all of her money?
What if, what if, what if . . .?
Could he do that? She wasn’t certain, but what she did know was this line of questioning was only going make her worry to no end. Besides, she knew this would be a risk she had no choice in taking.
She must keep her wits about her. All that mattered was that she got her portion of the inheritance and the house, so she could make it a home for herself.
In the end, she settled her mind and closed her eyes, thinking about Lord Blackthorn. She lay in her bed for several more minutes and when no relief came she pulled on the tassel for her maid. Once her maid arrived and helped her dress, she had the footman deliver a note to Lord Blackthorn. If she was going to allow him to help her with finding Millie, she needed to be honest with him in all regards.
She rang for Mrs. Pots and told her she was going to have breakfast in her room and would like to be left alone to recover from last night. The woman slapped Amelia’s schedule for the day on her desk and instructed that the day’s lesson was to be turned in before noon.
Amelia quickly informed her chaperone that since she was now officially engaged, she no longer needed to keep to Mrs. Pots’ instructions. The woman glared at her, her lips thinning in displeasure.
“I don’t recall your grandmother giving me that instruction.”
“You are welcome to write to her, if you wish,” Amelia said. “You may even address my fiancé regarding this matter if you like.”
Mrs. Pots’ lips thinned even further. She glared at Amelia and walked out of her room. That was close. Amelia doubted the woman would approach the lord, and if she chose to write to her grandmother, she was free to do so. By then, all this matter would be resolved.
Shortly after she finished her breakfast, Lord Blackthorn arrived. She started to feel strangely nervous and anxious. Her stomach felt tight, and she had difficulty concentrating. Instead of anticipating the meeting, the images of him naked and seducing her kept popping up in her head.
This was not helping.
She heard someone slip into her room with a click of the door. She gasped as Lord Blackthorn’s finger touched his lips in a gesture to remain quiet. Swiftly, he walked over to her. How had he come in here without being noticed? There was something alert and purposeful about his steps as he joined her.
“I got the note,” he said, pulling the thick curtains open and looking at the broken window. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she whispered. “If you could keep your voice quiet,” she said, leading him to the stairs. “I don’t want Mrs. Pots to know about your presence. How did you get in here without being noticed, anyway?”
“I have my ways,” he said. “Show me the rest.”
She walked over to the drawer next to her bed and pulled out the large rock with the note that had been attached to it.
“I had to remove the broken glass . . . there.” She pointed to the corner of the room next to her bed. “I could not afford to have Mrs. Pots discover it, as she often walks in without permission.”
Lord Blackthorn looked toward the corner she was pointing to, his sharp gaze seeming to miss nothing. Then he studied the note.
“Left-handed,” he muttered.
“Pardon?” she asked.
“This individual is left-handed.”
“How do you know this?”
“See the way this letter curves just so?” he said, pointing to one of the letters on the note.
He carefully placed the evidence in his coat pocket. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“That is all I have for you.”
“You can’t stay here,” he said. “Is there someone in town you can stay with?”
“I don’t know anyone here in town except Kate.”
“That does present a problem, doesn’t it?” he said, his brow raised.
“It does, indeed. Mrs. Pots will be very suspicious, and I can’t risk that. Besides, this townhouse is paid for the entire Season.”
“I agree in that regard; however, you are clearly not safe here.”
“I have to remain here,” she insisted. “I can’t afford Mrs. Pots informing my grandmother that I have taken residence elsewhere.”
“Well, if that is the case, I can have someone scour the neighborhood at night and keep an eye on the house.”
“Who is this person?”
“His name is Kane Roberts, a Bow Street Runner. We served together in the war.”
“And you trust him?”
“I do.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It doesn’t ease my mind knowing some strange man is lurking about my house.”
“All right, then, it’s either me or Roberts. Take your pick.”
“Is this really necessary?” she asked. This man was really bent on securing his investment, wasn’t he? “I only thought the note might help us in finding Millie.”
“You will need to choose,” he said. “I have a vested interest in your safety, remember.”
Of course he’d say that. Still, the thought of this man in her room at night didn’t sit well with her. If she agreed to have Mr. Roberts scour the streets and Mrs. Pots discovered him, she would be done for. And if she found Lord Blackthorn in her room, Mrs. Pots would surely inform her grandmother too. “Can you assure me that you will make certain no one sees you here?”
“I got into the house unnoticed, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
He said nothing.
“Fine, you can stay,” she said. “Don’t expect me to entertain you.”
“Believe me, if I didn’t have to be here, I wouldn’t be,” he said.
She didn’t give him the pleasure of responding to his remark. In fact, she ignored it. Instead she said, “Have you thought of a plan to find Millie?” The look on his face told her he might have, but he said nothing to her. “If you discovered something, I would like to know. Remember, I indicated that this was an equal partnership, and I meant it.”
“I have,” he said. “But I will need to inquire on my own.”
“You have information regarding Millie? You know where she is?”
“I might,” he said.
“I will go with you.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I am going with you,” she said firmly. “I insist on it. This is what we agree on.”
“Bloody hell, you’re going to get yourself really hurt one of these days.”
“But not before you collect your money, is that it?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Thank you for your concern, my lord,” she said sarcastically. “But I don’t scare easily.”
“So you keep insisting,” he said. “Meet me outside in thirty minutes.”
Before she could respond, he slipped out of the room just as easily as he’d come in. How did the man do that? This man certainly had many skills that surprised her.
She quickly looked herself over in the long oval mirror and when she was satisfied, she left her room and started to walk down the stairs. Even before she reached the bottom, Mrs. Pots was giving orders as if she owned the place.
Amelia saw the spectacle. Mrs. Pots was directing footmen carrying vases of red roses into the house. The flowers were breathtaking, and the aroma was lovely. She’d never seen so many, never mind in one room. Her grandmother insisted on cleanliness, and that included not having unnecessary frivolous items in the house, which included flowers.
“What is all this?” Amelia asked, taking in the fragrance of the roses in the hallway.
Mrs. Pots turned to her and said, “You tell me.” Handing her a small envelope, she instructed another footman to place the flowers in the parlor. “No, no, young man,” she said when he tried to put the vase on the center table in the foyer. “I told you, in the parlor.” She pointed to the hallway.
Amelia opened the envelope: For my lovely bride-to-be. Blackthorn.
When had he arranged all this? A tingling sensation bubbled inside her tummy, spreading outward like sunshine. Why had he sent these flowers? Amelia wondered. To convince Society they were in love? Of course, why else would he send them?
“I can guess who it is from.” Mrs. Pots paused to direct the footman again. “What does it say?” She leaned over to get a glimpse of the card.
"Don't you have something to occupy your time besides going through my personal things?"
Mrs. Pots narrowed her eyes, frowning. "I was hired to do just that. Until you say ’I do,’ it is my business to make certain you don’t make a fool of yourself and disgrace your family. Nor will I have you making a fool of your grandmother."
Amelia felt the carefully tucked-away emotions of her past slowly erupting from deep inside her. The woman had not a single kind word to say to her, or to anyone for that matter. Women like her always had ulterior motives; Amelia knew that much from her own experience. Unless it benefited her chaperone one way or another, she wouldn’t lift a finger. "What has my grandmother promised you?"
The woman said nothing.
"I caution you, Mrs. Pots. If I must, I will remove you from this house. You’ll have no choice but to crawl back to my grandmother and explain why you couldn’t do the job you were hired to do." Damn, she hated to do that, but the woman was dreadful. "I will be going out. You will not be chaperoning me today. I will have Mrs. McBride with me." Amelia turned on her heel and walked up the stairs to retrieve her bonnet and gloves to meet Lord Blackthorn.
She told herself to keep walking and not turn back before the dreadful woman stopped her. Her heart thumped harder and faster. This was the first time she’d stood up to the woman in this manner, and she was afraid that if she stopped walking, she’d lose her nerve.
Keep walking, Amelia . . .
Thirty minutes later, Blackthorn and Amelia were in an unmarked carriage on their way to look for Millie. The truth was, young women like Millie Penn most often disappeared for two reasons.
They were either dead or in prison.
The last time he was here, he’d been a prisoner, posing as a thief in order to gain sensitive information that would help the war against Napoleon. What was supposed to be a weeklong mission had turned into nearly a month.
“Where are we?” Amelia asked, breaking into his thoughts.
He looked out the window and stared at the large gray building with iron bars around the entrance. Dark smoke rose from the grimy, sooted chimney above, seeping into the gray clouds. This dreary place was no place for Amelia, but she had insisted on being part of all this.
“Newgate Prison.” Sudden primal need gripped him, the need to protect this fragile, angelic beauty. As soon as he opened the carriage door, the stench bombarded him with memories he had long buried. He stepped down and his polished boots hit the mud. Thick from the rain, it spattered the dark leather.
“What are we doing here?” she asked. “You don’t suppose . . .” Her voice trailed off as realization dawned, and she went pale.
“It’s just a hunch,” he said. “Wait for me in the carriage.”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “If she is in there, I want to see her.”
Reluctantly, he helped her out of the carriage and saw her expression churn. She quietly followed him, and once they reached the front entrance, he stopped. There was a small rectangular lookout on the iron door. He lifted the knocker and alerted the guard.
When no one came, he banged on the door with his fist. It was still early; everyone must be in the back guarding the prisoners during breakfast. A few seconds later, weary eyes came into view.
“Wot do ye want?” The guard glared at Blackthorn, but grinned when he saw Amelia. The look in the guard’s eyes was nothing but lascivious as his gaze lowered to her bosom.
Blackthorn felt her scoot closer to him. He lifted his hands and gave the guard several shiny coins through the lookout. The guard took them, and the door squeaked open.
“I need to see a prisoner,” Blackthorn said. “Millie Penn.”
The guard’s brows furrowed in a frown. “Fer wot reason?”
Blackthorn was certain most of these guards didn’t know all the prisoners by name, so he took his chance. “She is my client, and I am here on behalf of her family.”
“Yer a solicitor, are ye?” he said, looking Blackthorn over and then looking at Amelia. Solicitors did not often visit these prisoners, and if they did enter the rodent- and disease-ridden prison, it was to rob the unfortunate souls for their own gain.
“I am.”
“And her, who is she?”
“Her sister,” Blackthorn lied.
He frowned. “Stay here.” The guard slammed the door.
“You just lied to that man,” she hissed. “What if he discovers the truth?”
“Playing by the rules never got me anywhere,” Blackthorn said, watching the streets. The streets were beginning to come alive with carriages, pedestrians, and vendors selling goods.
Several minutes later, the guard returned and opened the door. “Follow me,” he said. “I suggest staying close or I can’t guarantee yer safety.”
Blackthorn pulled Amelia close to him and held her hand. She linked her fingers with his without hesitation, her warm hand soothing him. He didn’t like her being here, and her insistence was beginning to concern him more than he liked. They went through another iron gate and it closed with a loud clank. He felt her jump in fright. “Just stay close and you’ll be fine,” he assured her with a smile.
They made a quick right and went through another metal door, then continued down the narrow hall and through a wooden door. They were instructed to sit and wait in what looked to be a warden’s study.
He watched Miss Knight; she was awfully quiet. Too quiet.
“What do you plan to do if she is here?” she asked.
“Get her out.”
“How will you manage that?” she asked.
“Not by force, if that’s what you are thinking," he said. Prisoners died, but some did escape. “We will have to pay them.”
“What if that doesn’t work?” She looked at him with uncertainty.
“Let me do the talking.” He would have to get a feel for the kind of man the warden was. But more often than not, money seemed to solve most problems.
Just then, the door swung open and a warden walked in. There was a shrewd look in his eyes, a look that told Blackthorn this place was starting to eat away at his soul, but Blackthorn couldn’t be certain if he could be bribed.
“I hear you want to see a prisoner,” he said, sitting down at his desk. The warden watched the two of them carefully, as though trying to assess who they really were. It wasn’t often the prisoners had visitors here. “Do you have the documents to warrant this visit?”
There weren’t any formal documents to warrant a visit. The warden wanted money. Blackthorn pulled out a sealed envelope. “Before I hand this over, I need to know if Millie Penn is in this prison”
The man’s mouth twisted, and there was a spark of knowledge in those soulless eyes when he heard the name.
“No,” he finally said. When he saw that Blackthorn was about to put the envelope back in his coat pocket, he quickly said, “But I know who might know where she is.”
“I need to speak to her.”
“By all means,” the warden said, walking out of the study and directing them to follow him.
The entire time, Miss Amelia Knight was quiet and pale, which didn’t surprised Blackthorn. Even the most hardened individuals feared this place. They both followed the warden out of the study and made several turns deep into the building where the prisoners were kept. Blackthorn memorized the turns, and by the time they were in the men’s section of the prison, he knew where he was.
Several inmates approached the thick bars and gawked at Miss Knight, making smacking noises with their lips with obscene proposals that he knew must have bothered her, but she made no reply to any of them. Brave girl.
With a yelp, she left his side, and there she stood against an iron bar in the grip of a young prisoner, hefty in size.
“Let me out of here, or I will break ‘er neck,” he said.
“Easy,” the warden said slowly and calmly. “Let her go.”
Blackthorn slid his hand into his coat pocket and felt the hilt of a small knife. Gripping it, he watched the culprit carefully. He saw fear burning in Amelia’s eyes, but she didn’t scream or yell for help. She just held on to the man’s arm, trying to free herself from his grip. The prick leaned in and licked her cheek and whispered something in her ear. His hand slid down her chest and cupped her breast as she bit her lip and closed her eyes in terror.
Blackthorn’s training and instinct kicked in with lightning speed, as everything he’d been trained in came in full force. Before the felon could harm her, Blackthorn moved speedily and stabbed the culprit in his side through the iron bars several times with swift and precise motions. The prisoner released her, and he pulled away in agonizing pain. Just then, several guards ran to them to give assistance.
Blackthorn pulled Amelia into his embrace. He thought he heard a whimper from her. “You’re all right. I have you now.” She looked up at him, and as if by instinct, he kissed her forehead, relief washing over him. The prisoner could have easily chocked her to death.
She pulled away from him. “I’m all right.” She gathered her unruly hair in place. “Shall we go?”
They walked together with the two guards behind them. This time, Amelia was ahead of him where he could keep his eyes on her as they walked through another iron door where the women and children were kept. He saw her gloved hand cover her mouth in shock.
Voices of all ages echoed through the cells, some asking for help, others weeping. He investigated the small cells that were no bigger than a tiny den, just big enough to stand in, and with a stench that made him gag. He was told the woman who may know Millie was in the fifth cell to his right.
The warden and the two guards waited by the iron door, allowing them some distance. Blackthorn walked with Amelia to the cell in question. The young woman was leaning on the brick wall, while another woman leaned against her with her arms wrapped around her body—she looked young and very ill.
The woman he had come to interview took one look at him and her eyes widened. “Wot are ye looking at?” she said with a spiteful tone.
“I’m here to ask you some questions,” he said.
“Let me,” Amelia said. She slowly approached the cell to speak with the woman. “I’m looking for a friend.”
Blackthorn remained close by; he didn’t want another incident.
“You?” the woman said. “Why would ye be looking fer a friend in here?”
“Do you know Millie Penn?”
The prisoner looked at her suspiciously for several seconds. “Wot do ye want with her?”
“Do you know where I can find her?”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “If ye think I’m giving away any information fer free, you got another thing comin’.”
Blackthorn handed the woman a shiny coin he retrieved from his pocket. “Is this what you want?”
She looked at it, and he knew she wanted it. This place didn’t provide the prisoners with anything but porridge, if you could call it that, twice a day. No blankets. No mattress. Nothing. You had to pay for those so-called luxuries.
“Start talking,” Amelia said. “Then I will give you the coin. Where is she now?”
The woman in the cell stared at the coin as if it were gold. “She said somethin’ about going to see her lover.”
“A lover?”
“Don’t know the name, but I know she’s carrying that bastard’s child.”
“She is with child?” Amelia whispered to herself in a defeated tone.
“The man didn’t want the baby,” the woman said bitterly. “His high and mighty lordship kicked ‘er off his property. That’s how she ended up ‘ere.”
Blackthorn felt Amelia’s grief, the unsaid words.
“Do you have any idea where she may be now?” he asked.
“I know she ain’t with her father. That bastard beat her nearly to death when he found out she was with child and kicked ‘er out. That is all I know,” she blurted out. “The coin?”
Blackthorn tossed her the pound and pulled Amelia away from the bars. Hand in hand, they left through the iron doors. On their way out, Blackthorn handed the warden the envelope, and the iron gate slammed shut with a clank.
It wasn’t until they reached the outside of the prison that he saw blood.