Downright abhorrence was all Evelyn felt, and she cast her eyes to the side. A sturdy cherry laurel obscured their scene from the townhouse, the pear tree from the heavens – a secret bower of malevolence.
The moneylender exhaled deeply and waved the knife towards one drear figure behind. “My lad here has been keeping his peepers on you two, and when a nob’s rattler and prads turn up at yer gaff…”
Standing, she realised for the first time that Filgrave was shorter than herself – no wonder he always remained seated. “Three weeks we agreed for repayment. I still have time.”
His face twisted with derision. “You ain’t got no coin, Missy, but I might be willing to offer new terms.” He leaned close, the scent of bergamot cologne and raw gin watering her eyes. “I heard me this duke’s got a stash of diamonds kept here. Now, if you were willing to…filch a few. Well, we could wipe the slate.”
Cold dread slammed through Evelyn. “No, I–”
“I’d even let yer keep one. And the both of yer could go where yer please.”
“I couldn’t–”
“Yer owe me, Missy,” he growled. “And I’m due sommit more fer me losses. Either I take you…” He flicked the knife aloft, precisely in the direction of Artemisia’s bedchamber. “…yer sister, or the diamonds.” With a cock of thumb, the blade slid back into the hilt, sheathed for his next victim. “Decide fer yerself which is more precious to yer.” He leisurely buttoned his coat. “And don’t think to hie off again. I got me eyes and ears everywhere…Mrs Swift.”
She gasped.
Filgrave’s lips arched as he stuck out a hand to pinch her chin. “Tut, tut, Missy, yerhavebeen a bad girl, ain’t yer?” His grasp tightened. “I’m yer only option now. So be here. Two days. On the hour of eight. Sleep well.”
Crooked white teeth bared and with a final squeeze, he released her to spin on his heel, boots silent, greatcoat rudely slapping her skirts. The minions parted as though the sea to Moses, and they all slid through the trees and towards the mews, melding to the shadows like the rats they were.
Light-headedness caused Evelyn to sway as the night enclosed her. Thoughts thawed but then jumbled and scattered, and she dropped to the seat once more.
What was she to do?
Tell the duke all? Beg for his aid? Yet he’d threatened prison, and what would happen to Artemisia then?
She raised a hand to her trembling lip as poisonous thoughts dripped into her mind – gems leaking from the duke’s pocket; that he would never notice a few missing diamonds; they could leave London far behind; Artemisia would be safe.
Her eyes burned with despair and repugnance. The short stumble from poverty into deeper darkness would only lead to the sanctums of hell. She’d watched it unfold on the streets of London. The acts of desperation.
Perhaps they could flee this city, but to where? Filgrave knew her secret and without the painting, they had nothing. They’d be sleeping in ditches.
Evelyn put palm to heart.
Foolish, foolish Evelyn.
She bowed her head, felt the albatross of wretchedness hang heavy, and never had she felt so alone.
* * *
Obligingwaiters complied with every demand – port, brandy or champagne. Oyster and lobster lay in abundance upon platters of silver, and scantily clad temptresses weaved through the pandemonium, casting coy gazes in Casper’s direction.
The shuffle of cards and sighs of despair. The rattle of dice and cries of delight.
Casper shook his head. He simply did not comprehend how anyone could enjoy this.
Mayhap he really was the tedious nobleman that the gossip papers mocked – brusque, cold and callous.
But then he recalled Evelyn strewn across his desk in wild abandon, papers scattered and quills crushed.
He’d been ready to take her. She’d been ready to take him.
Not quite so tedious then.
Hands were abruptly thrown high at the unruly hazard table which took centre stage of this golden den, the dice deciding at its whim tonight’s victors, but Casper cast his eyes towards the tall windows, where the games of faro and baccarat played out upon circular leather baizes.
He removed some harlot’s hand from his backside and stepped deeper into this Dante’s inferno.
