Page 95 of One Night with a Rake

When Nate reached Sadie O’Toole’s place, he pulled back so violently on the reins, the gelding nearly sat down. Panting and snorting, the horse’s sides heaved, but he was still upright. Nate’s conscience pricked him.

“Sorry, old man,” he whispered to the animal. “Get us through this and I promise you a bucket of oats.”

He couldn’t just leave the gelding on the street unattended. Since he expected to make a speedy retreat once he found Georgette, he couldn’t afford to be caught afoot.

“You there, boy.” He pointed to a gangly lad with a link torch in his hand. He flipped the boy a shiny florin. “Mind this animal for me. Have him ready to go right here and there’ll be half a crown more for you. Can you do it?”

“Right-o, guv. If ye don’t mind me sayin’ so, you’re a dang sight freer with the coin than my usual employer. I’d a done it for a shilling.”

An honest urchin. Nate took note of the boy’s face so he could offer him a position at his Cheapside flat. If the lad worked out well there, Nathaniel would see if he’d like to move to the little country place Nate owned in Wiltshire.

“Your usual employer wouldn’t happen to be Lord Fishwick, would it?”

“The very same.”

“Have you seen him this evening?”

The lad nodded. “Him and a lady come by about half an hour ago. They went in there.” He pointed to Sadie O’Toole’s red door. “It’s not my place to say, but the lady din’t look a bit happy ’bout being here.”

Nate squared his shoulders and strode to the door. Every ounce of his being urged him to charge, but there were too many unknowns. He didn’t know where Georgette was or how many bodies he’d have to go through to reach her. The defeat at Maubeuge was the result of not doing his own reconnoitering before he led his men into enemy territory.

He couldn’t face a defeat this time.

To make matters worse, he was once again trying to rescue Georgette with only a handful of fingers. No pistol. No walking stick with a cunningly hidden blade. No boot knife.

“With my luck, there won’t even be an umbrella stand inside the door,” he muttered as he pushed into the whorehouse-cum-gaming-hell.

Nate scoured the main room with his gaze, but didn’t see any evidence of Georgette anywhere. He didn’t dare ask if anyone had seen her. Since by all accounts Roger was backing this establishment with his coin, chances were good these ruffians were what passed for his friends.

The bully who guarded the door was a square-jawed, barrel-chested chap, as formidable as Mr. Bagley had been. He sent Nate a warning glare.

“Ah, Lord Nathaniel, I didn’t think we’d see you again.” Sadie O’Toole sashayed toward him. Decked out in a poisonous green gown, she looked plumper and more prosperous than she had the last time he’d visited. “I’ll admit you had me fooled when you set up my old place as a sanctuary for reformed whores. Took you for one o’ those prickless do-gooders. Then when you came here a few days back, I realized your blood runs just as hot as the rest of ’em. Now what kept you away so long?”

“I’ve been busy,” he said, checking the line of whores leaning over the balustrade for the timid girl whom he’d hired for an hour which was spent only in conversation. He’d expected her to turn up at the House of Sirens any day, but she never did come. “I don’t suppose the girl I had last time is still here and available.”

“Lily?” Her brows arched in surprise. “She’s here, and I’ll be bound she’s not busy. Truth to tell, we get nothin’ but complaints over her lack of enthusiasm. Why don’t you let me fix you up with May?”

Sadie motioned to a buxom brunette up on the balcony who was flashing her breasts at the patrons below and waggling her fingers enticingly.

“Thank you, no,” Nathaniel said. “I have specific…tastes. Is Lily still in the last room off the balcony?”

“No,” Sadie said with vehemence. “That room is let to a private party now. Lily’s been moved to next door if ye want her. Same rate as before.” She glanced at her pendant watch. “Clock’s tickin’, milord.”

A private party. At least he knew where Georgette probably was now. Nate bounded up the stairs and worked his way through the gauntlet of whores who hadn’t yet secured a john for the evening. When he reached the one named May, he pulled her off the line.

“Evenin’, guv,” she said, draping herself over him. “Ye’re a big strappin’ thing, ain’t ya? Look at the arms on ye. Makes a girl wonder what else ye got worth seein’. Now what can May do for you?”

He pressed a sufficiently impressive number of coins into her hand. “I want you to start a fight with someone and then get the bully drunk.”

Her lip poked out in a pout. “Is that all?”

Nate smiled. “For now.”

She tossed her head and shrugged. “Suits me. Once I get Mr. Philpot frog-eyed, I’ll see ye after.”

May flounced off toward the stairs, pulling the hair of several of the other girls as she went. The last girl didn’t take it with much grace and promptly pounced on her, nails flashing.

The brawling women drew every eye in the place, especially when they tumbled together down the staircase. Nate pushed toward the last door through the rest of the whores who crowded to get a better view. With a little luck, he’d be able to invade Roger Fishwick’s lair with no one the wiser.