Page 77 of Rogue’s Holiday

“Drop the pistol, Ings.”

“And why would I do that? Now that I have seen to the ruination of your lady love, your death is all I seek.”

Robbie laughed. “You err if you think you accomplished that. My lady has not been ruined. The place you took her is known to me and I to them. She remains untouched and safe.”

Shock appeared on Ings’ face. He froze, allowing Robbie time to strike the villain’s hand that held the pistol. The gun went off before dropping to the floor, but the shot failed to hit its mark.

“Ye should have let me have the chit,” said Ings’ companion to his master.

“You must be Augie,” snarled Robbie. When the man did not deny it, Robbie moved his pistol to his left hand and, motioning Jack aside, planted his fist in the man’s face, content to hear his nose break. “That is for my lady you badly mistreated.”

Jack resumed his hold on the man named Augie and pressed his knife deeper into his throat.

Ings shouted, “Take them!”

Robbie glanced over his shoulder to see a mêlée had broken out and his men throwing punches. “We got this, Cap’n!” his carpenter shouted as he slammed his fist into a man’s gut, dropping him to the floor where he lay groaning.

The tavern erupted into a knockdown tussle, men shouting and fists flying.

“Robbie!” shouted Jack.

Robbie looked back to see Ings pulling a knife from his boot. Filled with disdain for the twisted miscreant, Robbie shot Ings in the shoulder.

Ings dropped his knife and staggered back, sinking into a chair.

“One down; one more to go.”

“Très bien,” said Jack as he smashed the hilt of the blade he’d been holding into the temple of Ings’ companion causing him to fall to his knees and slide beneath the table. “That makes two, mon ami.”

“I’ll take that rope, now!” Robbie shouted to the barkeeper.

A coil of rope flew through the air. He grabbed it and handed one length to Jack. “Tie him up; I’ll see to Ings.” When both men were trussed up, Robbie said, “We’ll hand them over to the Bow Street Runners. I imagine they will be pleased to arrest these who sympathized with the man who shot one of their own.”

The fight in the bar was over. Robbie’s men had prevailed with only minor scrapes and bruises. Robbie looked over the scene of bodies lying at various angles and groans emanating from those who weren’t out cold. “A round of drinks for the crew!” he shouted.

“Aye,” said his gunner, “and one for the Cap’n!”

“Hip! Hip! Hurrah!” shouted his men.

After dinner, Rose came into Chastity’s bedchamber and perched on the bed, giving Chastity, who was sitting at her dressing table unpinning her hair, a curious look. “You seem different somehow.”

“I imagine I am. One cannot experience something so traumatic without being affected. As well, I had much time to think.” Mostly, she thought of Sir Robert, but Rose need not know that.

Rose leaned forward as if trying to close the distance between them. “I know you were kidnapped, Chas, and that the men took you because of Sir Robert’s work for the Crown. He was unconscious on the ground when we found him but, when he awoke, he told us all.”

“One of the villains told me they had hit him on the head. I was worried they might have killed him.”

“Just a large bump. He and the vicomte went after you that same night. That’s when they found the two left behind.”

Concerned they might have gotten away, she asked, “Where are they now?”

“In the custody of the local magistrate.”

Relieved, Chastity said, “Their leader took me to a dreadful part of London, the East End, I think. I feared I would never leave, that I’d be lost there forever.”

“How awful!”

“It was. But I was not there long. The leader had plans for me. Plans designed to ruin me and hurt Sir Robert. He meant to give me to a brothel.”