Seducing the Ruthless Rogue Read online

  “Yes. What you do with her?”

  “Bloody hell, man, do you have any idea what time it is?” Mack demanded as he pointed the pistol at the floor and gently released the hammer. “I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

  “You lie. You not like Missy Cassie. You do something to her!”

  “Now, listen here, Mr…”

  “Chang.”

  “Now, listen here, Mr. Chang, I’m not going to put up with someone coming to my house, accusing me of crimes, and calling me a liar. As far as I am concerned, trouble follows your ‘Missy Cassie’. So, pardon me, but I am going to go back to sleep now. Goodnight, Mr. Chang.” Mack shut the door in the older man’s face then slammed the bolt home.

  ***

  Cassie spent the last hours pacing the watchhouse, but as the night passed, the room became more crowded. How had things gone so horribly wrong? she thought. She watched the other people that the Runners brought into what began as her domain. People were brought in who were much worse off than she, despite her surroundings. Some of the people looked and smelled as if they had not bathed in years. Others looked as if they had not eaten in days.

  When a woman, looking to be halfway through a pregnancy, and a small child were pushed into the small confines, Cassie’s heart twisted. She stood, allowing the woman to take her seat. The child collapsed at her feet, cuddling her mother’s legs.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the woman said weakly. “Come here, Jemma,” she said, bending over as far as she could and holding her arms out to the child.

  When the child could not stand on her own, Cassie bent down and swooped the girl in her arms. “Jemma, that’s such a pretty name.” The girl smiled sickly at her. “Here you go,” Cassie gently lowered her onto her mother’s lap. One of the men stood, and nodded for Cassie to take his seat. She nodded her thanks before sitting next to the woman and child. “Here,” she held out her hand to the little girl, a scone she had pilfered on her way out of the house this morning lay in the middle of her palm.

  The girl looked hopefully at her mother. The woman nodded her head, and the girl tentatively took the proffered delicacy. Jemma tore the scone in half and held out half to her mother.

  “No, you eat it, Poppet,” her mother encouraged.

  “Here, take this one for your mother,” Cassie said, producing a second scone.

  “‘Ere now, you got any more of those for the rest of us?” a man called out.

  Cassie turn and glared at the man, silencing him from saying anything else. “Go ahead, Jemma, take this one for your mother.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the woman said, tears running down her cheeks as she took her first bite of the scone.

  “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

  “A day, maybe two,” the woman shrugged.

  “Surely that can’t be good for a woman in your condition,” Cassie said softly. Her heart twisted painfully as she watched the woman sob softly. She took the woman in her arms and let her cry out her fears and worries. “There, there,” she murmured soothingly. Cassie pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and passed it to the woman. “Jemma’s fallen asleep,” she told the mother softly.

  “Thank goodness,” the woman said. “She has slept so little lately. She has the most terrible nightmares since her father died.”

  “Would you like to talk about it, Mrs…”

  “Thompson. My name is Abigail, but everyone calls me Abby.”

  “And I am Cassie.”

  “Andrew and I married three years ago. Jemma was born on our first anniversary,” she said cuddling the sleeping girl that appeared younger and wiser than her two years. “Andrew was a soldier, and we followed the drum, going everywhere he went when we could. It was not easy, but we were together more often than what we would have been if Jemma and I had stayed in England.” The woman paused, a half-smile on her face as she reminisced.

  “And then what happened?”

  “There were so many battles, and he always came back to me, until the last one. They buried him on the battlefield. I didn’t get to say goodbye. Captain Wallace, Andrew’s commander, saw that I received Andrew’s last pay as well as a little extra to get us home. Jemma and I took the next packet back to England. When we arrived back on English soil, I went to Andrew’s parents house, only to find it occupied by another family. His father had died from a lung ailment, and his mother passed away a few months after. Not that they had the means to help us, mind you. Jemma and I found a small room to rent, and not long after I realized I would be having another child.”

  The women sat in silence for a long time as more people were forced into the watchhouse.

  “What about your parents?” Cassie asked quietly.

  “They did not approve of Andrew. My parents are members of the ton and I was to marry someone more appropriate to our station, but I fell in love with a soldier. I tried to see them when I came back, but they refused to see me. I was caught attempting to pick a man’s pocket so that I could feed Jemma. That is why we were brought here. I don’t know what I am going to do now,” Abby leaned her head against the wall behind her as tears streamed down her face. “They will take Jemma from me in the morning and place her in an orphanage and put me in a workhouse or worse. I’ll likely never see my baby again.”

  Cassie wrapped her arm around the other woman and Abby laid her head on Cassie’s shoulder. Soon the woman drifted off to sleep, as well. A grizzled looking man sitting along the wall across from them looked at the two women.

  “That happens more often than y’know,” he said gruffly.

  “What is that?”

  “That young woman’s situation. Mine, too,” he nodded towards a leg that was represented by a piece of wood and a crutch. “Government only wants you until you can’t do nothin’ for ‘em anymore.” Several people in the room echoed his sentiments.

  Cassie worried her lower lip as she wondered what she could do to help these people, but most especially Abby and Jemma.

  ***

  Mack opened the door to leave his house. He wasn’t sure where he was heading, he just knew he needed to escape the confines of his house for a while, and he was not allowed to go to the office. After closing the door, he began walking down the street and spied Mr. Chang walking towards him. He groaned aloud. What did the man want now?

  “Good morning, Mr. Chang.”

  “Missy Cassie need help.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I wrong about you. Letter come this morning.”

  Mack took the piece of paper that the man held out to him. He noted that one side had a ragged edge as if ripped from a book. The markings on the paper were written in pencil and looked more like scratches than handwriting. It took him several minutes to decipher the almost unreadable handwriting.

  Chang:

  In trouble. I am at the watchhouse near the Parliament building.

  Cassie

  “What is she doing in a bloody watchhouse?”

  “Not know. Not know what this ‘watchhouse’ is,” he said. “She not came home last night. Not like Missy Cassie. I worry.”

  “Go home, Mr. Chang. I will take care of this.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. McKenzie,” the little man bowed repeatedly, hands clasped together.

  “Don’t thank me yet, Mr. Chang. I have yet to rescue the damsel in distress. I will bring her home as soon as I can,” he said. He watched the little man turn and shuffle off down the street. “If I can,” Mack added under his breath. He turned and hailed a passing hackney, gave the jarvey directions, and then climbed inside. What had she done to end up in a watchhouse? That was where people were held between the time they were arrested and until they could be properly placed in a prison to await sentencing.

  He should have turned Sir Graham over to his daughter months ago and been done with her. Then she would not be in his life, and he would not be traveling across town on some wild goose chase. Several times he started to instruct the driver to turn aroun
d, or go somewhere else, anywhere else. Each time he looked at the note in his hand and saw the worried look in the old, weathered face of the man who came to see him. The hack rolled to a stop in front of the office of the Bow Street Runners. Mack exited the hack, paid the driver, then let himself in the office.

  “Director McKenzie,” one of the men said, “what brings you here?”

  “I am interested in one of the people you arrested last night.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Miss Cassie Graham.” The other man groaned. “I take it you have knowledge of her?”

  “That woman has been a pain to us all morning long.”

  “That sounds like Miss Graham. Where is she?” he asked, looking around.

  “Not here. She’s still at the watchhouse, refuses to leave in fact. She’s started quite a little riot if I may say so.”

  “I can just imagine. Suppose you take me to her.”

  “Yes, Director.”

  Within ten minutes, Mack stood outside the watchhouse. The door was open and voices spilled outside.

  “I need you to come with me, Miss Graham.”

  “No. I will not go, and you are not taking Mrs. Thompson or her daughter.”

  “I can’t pick and choose who gets to leave and who gets to stay, Miss Graham. If you end up in the watchhouse, you end up in prison. Now, you can either come with me, or…”

  “Or what, sir? Are you going to beat two women and a child? Because if that is what you are thinking, I should warn you that I can easily defend myself and my friends.”

  “Are you threatening me?” the Runner blustered.

  Mack decided it would be wise to intercede on the fool woman’s behalf at this time. “What’s going on here?”

  “What are you doing here?” Cassie demanded, standing in the center of the room, her hands fisted on her hips.

  He studied her for a moment, taking in the fact that she did not look horrible after spending the night in a crowded watchhouse. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight knot at her nape. The dress she wore was brown and looked worn and wrinkled. Her garment was the only indication that she had spent all night sitting up in a crowded room.

  “Mr. Chang came to me looking for assistance on your behalf.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Fine,” he said and turned on his heel to leave the building.

  “I’ll have no more of this,” the Runner said. He reached behind Cassie, but did not retrieve the child that was hidden behind her skirts.

  “I told you not to lay a hand on that child,” Cassie’s voice sounded feral.

  Mack froze when he heard her words followed by a commotion behind him and the yelp of a grown man. He counted to ten before turning around and seeing the Runner laid out on the floor with Miss Graham standing over him.

  “I think you should come with me, now,” Mack said, brooking no argument.

  “No.”

  “I don’t think I heard you correctly. I’m trying to save your neck from being stretched.”

  “Please, Cassie, don’t get in trouble for us. We’ll go with the Runner,” a delicate, feminine voice said behind her.

  “No, Abby. We all go, or none of us go.”

  Miss Graham lifted her chin in a stubborn gesture he was growing used to seeing in their short acquaintance. “Miss Graham, if you do not accompany me, you all will end up in prison.” He watched her cross her arms in defiance. At the same time, a little girl peeked timidly around her skirts. He saw her big brown eyes, fringed with thick, dark lashes blink up at him curiously, and he could have sworn his heart melted just a bit. “Who’s this?” he asked gruffly.

  “This is Jemma, and this is her mother, Mrs. Abigail Thompson.” He watched as Cassie stepped aside to reveal a woman with sunken cheeks and bruises beneath the same color eyes as her daughter. He did a quick scan of her from head to toe and saw that her brown hair looked thin and listless, although tidy, but what truly caught his attention was the fact that she was with child. “Mrs. Thompson’s husband was killed in a battle in Spain. She has no more money to pay rent or buy food, and she has nowhere to go.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “I expect you to not be a bloody right bastard!” Miss Graham charged at him. “They will put Mrs. Thompson in prison and Jemma in an orphanage. Haven’t they lost enough already?” Cassie implored.

  “What did Mrs. Thompson do?”

  “I tried to steal money from a gentleman, sir,” Mrs. Thompson answered on her own behalf.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Now, come with me, Miss Graham, you’re wasting my time,” Mack turned to leave, the word bastard ringing in his ears.

  “Ask her why, or are you afraid to hear her answer?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Mrs. Thompson was caught stealing money, and she must be punished.”

  “You are a cold-hearted—”

  “Careful what word you choose to describe me. I would suggest veering from the one you previously used if you value your health.”

  “Do not threaten me.”

  “Come along.”

  “Not until you ask her.”

  “Miss Graham—”

  “Ask. Her,” Cassie gritted through her teeth.

  “And what were you going to use the money for, Mrs. Thompson?” The woman sat down and looked as if she would collapse at any moment. The little girl did not look much better.

  “I just wanted to buy some bread for my little girl,” she answered, tears forming in her eyes. “I know we won’t last very long on the streets. I don’t even know that the babe will survive being born, but I just couldn’t stand one more night of hearing Jemma cry because her belly hurt from not eating. I’m her mother and as much as I try, I cannot do anything about it,” she finished with a sniff.

  “There, there,” Cassie said wrapping her arm protectively around the other woman. “He won’t let anything happen to you now, Abby. Will you, Director McKenzie?”

  After a considerable pause, Mack looked at the two Runners who were having difficulty making eye contact with the women after hearing Mrs. Thompson’s story. “I will be taking the two women and the child. Tell your director I will stop by and explain everything later.”

  “Yes, sir,” the men muttered.

  ***

  Cassie knew she put Director McKenzie in a tenuous position. In all honesty, she had been ready to disable the Runner and help Abby and Jemma to disappear. She did not mind prison for herself, but she could not stand the thought of that little girl and her mother being separated after all they had endured. Cassie had spent most of the night composing her next article in her mind. She made notes in her journal she carried and could not wait to be in the quiet of her house so that she could think clearly and write the story.

  “Director McKenzie, I want to…”

  “Not now, Miss Graham.”

  “But, I just want to…”

  “Not now,” he ordered.

  Cassie felt a calming hand rest on her knee. She looked up and met Abby’s eyes. The woman shook her head and gave her leg a squeeze. Jemma sat securely between Cassie and Abby. Cassie watched the little girl curiously study the man across from her in the tight confines of the hackney.

  “Do you need to get anything from your rented rooms, Mrs. Thompson?”

  “No, sir. I’ve had to sell everything we had just to feed us. We have nothing left.”

  Mack nodded his head and looked out the window.

  “Where are we going?” Cassie asked. Mack remained silent. “I think we have a right to know.” He turned and met her gaze with a cocked brow.

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” she said, refusing to back down.

  “I am going to seek assistance for Mrs. Thompson and her daughter.”

  “Where?”

  “Cassie, we will find out soon enough,” Abby said softly.

  “He could at least tell us where we are going.”

  “You are lucky that the
re is a child present, Miss Graham. Now, if you don’t mind, I would prefer silence for the rest of our trip.”

  His brogue filled the coach, and Cassie couldn’t help the affect it had on her. What was it about this man? He irritated her to no end, but at the same time there were things about him that intrigued her, called to her. His aloofness was a mystery that she found herself wanting to solve. Little did she know that the mystery surrounding him was about to grow even more perplexing.

  The hack stopped in front of a large mansion in St. James’s Square.

  “Wait here,” Mack instructed, as he left the hack.

  “Cassie, please don’t push him any further. He appears to be a man that one does not poke and prod as you are doing.”

  “He is irritating.”

  “He saved our lives.”

  “Hmph.”

  The carriage door opened and Director McKenzie stood there. “Please come with me.”

  “All of us?” Cassie asked.

  “Yes.”

  Cassie left the coach and turned to lift Jemma into her arms. She stepped aside while Mack gently assisted Mrs. Thompson down. The three followed Mack up to the house. A raven haired beauty stood in the foyer awaiting their arrival. They entered and the woman questioned in a low, husky voice, “Abigail? Abigail Drummond?”

  “Yes…” she replied hesitantly. “Wait, Mikala Simmons? Didn’t we have our coming out the same year?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know one another?” Mack asked.

  “Not very well,” the woman named Mikala answered honestly. “How long has it been?”

  “Four years. I married Andrew Thompson, a soldier. This is my daughter, Jemma.”

  “Hello, Jemma. I remember Mr. Thompson. He was a dashing young man,” Mikala said. “And I married the Duke of Hawkescliffe.” Mikala laughed as the other woman tried to hide her shock and curtsy at the same time. “I know. It is funny how life turns out. I am sorry for your loss,” she added, sobering instantly. “Mack told me that you are a widow.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why did you bring them to the house of a duke?” Cassie demanded.

  “I know that they will take care of Mrs. Thompson and her daughter until a more permanent arrangement can be made.”