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“Good riddance to you, I say. You will certainly be thrown out of the ballrooms of the ton when they find out what a fraudster you are. The War Office is aware of your alias. It is only a matter of time before word gets out. You will be banned from every house in London you need to get into in order to steal your precious gems. Then what are you going to do?”
She didn’t see the slap coming until the sound of flesh striking flesh rang out in the deathly silence that followed. Tears stung her lashes. She looked at the man seated opposite with every ounce of the contempt she felt, and with all of her anger, fury, and fear for Joe, slapped him back as hard as she could. She watched with a strange mix of satisfaction and trepidation as a large red welt appeared on his cheek.
“Don’t you ever hit me again,” she bit out through clenched teeth before she settled back into the seat and took a deep, fortifying breath.
“You know, I can just take what I want from you,” he drawled with an air of calculation.
She knew exactly what he meant from the way his gaze raked over her.
“Try it and die,” she snapped, her gaze hard.
Sayers frowned as though this was not the response he had been expecting.
“Never mind,” he said as he drew in a deep breath. “We can adapt.”
“Adapt yourself. I shall never be drawn into your seedy world willingly,” she snarled.
“No, I don’t expect you will,” Sayers murmured.
With that, he lapsed into silence, and seemingly completely forgot about her. He turned his attention out of the window and studied the houses rolling past and didn’t speak to her again.
Joe’s lungs were about to burst, but he daren’t slow his pace. Thankfully, because Sayers was arrogant, the carriage was rolling along at a steady clip rather than trotting. Joe suspected it was because Sayers didn’t want to cause a scene that would generate witnesses. Whatever the reason for its steady journey, Joe was able to cut a few corners here and there, and pre-empt which way the carriage was going so he could catch up with it. He had no idea where Sayers was going, but it certainly wasn’t to the docks or the East End.
Thankfully, the journey was relatively short, and came to a stop, surprisingly, at the magistrate’s house. Joe stood gasping for air as he scoured the street for accomplices before he edged closer. He stuck to the shadows and watched the coachman open the door and hand Sayers down. The man didn’t even stop to wait for Marguerite and swept through Lucas’ open door without a backward look. Marguerite was grabbed by the coachman as soon as she put a foot on the pavement, and physically hauled into the house with her kicking in protest.
Without any way of sending for back-up, Joe knew he was on his own in this. Without any clue as to what Sayers might be up to, Joe had to find a way to the house to see for himself why Marguerite had been taken there. With the front door now closed, Joe quietly made his way around the back.
Deep in the back of his mind was the memory of Sayers’ determination to marry Marguerite. Joe suspected that Sayers had brought Marguerit
e here so she could marry him.
“Not while I have breath in my body,” he muttered, determined to thwart it before the vows were exchanged.
He had no idea if the wedding would even be legal given Lucas was in the crook’s employ, and the bride unwilling to say the least. Just the thought of Marguerite being married to the odious creature was enough for Joe to redouble his efforts to creep around to the back of the house as fast as he could. Rather than stand near the window to take a look inside, he set to work on the lock on the back door. Within seconds he was walking through the scullery, and creeping into the main body of the house.
Every movement was fuelled by his determination to keep Marguerite away from Sayers. She was not only too good for the crook. Joe also knew now that she was too precious to him to lose. He had no idea what this meant for their future, or even what kind of future he wanted with her, but he knew he couldn’t let her go. She was a part of his life now. They had faced many challenges together, and she had risen to deal with each one with a strength and determination that had surprised him. She had become essential to him. To think of her not being beside him anymore left him feeling slightly cast-adrift, and he hated it.
After everything that had happened to her since she had met him, Joe wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to see him again once this was all over. However, he would have to face that bridge when he came to it and do what he could to deal with any doubts she had. Right now, he had to get her away from Sayers.
Drawing his gun, he crept toward the only room where a light was visible beneath the door. He knew that the coachman had already resumed his habitual seat atop the carriage where he would wait until Sayers left the building. Joe suspected that was because Sayers was armed in some way and was cold-blooded enough to be able to defend himself whatever the cost to human life.
With that in mind, Joe withdrew his weapon, cocked it, and crept toward the door so he could listen.
“I am not going to do it,” Marguerite snapped. She glared at the magistrate. “How dare you turn against the king and country like this? You are a magistrate yet are in collaboration with a criminal. I will have you struck off for this. I shall make sure everyone in the War Office knows how treacherous you are. You should never be allowed in a position of authority. Why, you are nothing but a crook yourself.”
“Shut up, Marguerite,” Sayers snapped.
“Shut up, yourself,” she replied pertly. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. I am not going to marry you no matter what you threaten me with.”
To her utter horror, Sayers lifted his cane, he pressed a small button on the handle, and slowly slid the sheath off the wicked looking, and very long, blade. It sparkled in the firelight and was icy cold when pressed against the delicate flesh of her throat.
“Say the words or die where you stand,” Sayers snarled.
Marguerite looked at him down the length of the blade. She knew he meant every word. She looked at the magistrate, who appeared sickened and completely terrified. She knew she would get no help from that quarter. The man was a weak and pathetic creature who deserved nothing but contempt.
Suddenly, something changed within Marguerite. She had no idea what it was, but the magistrate’s demeanour created an anger within her that made her reckless. As a result, she was deeply, cold bloodedly livid, and completely removed from the life and death risk she was about to take.
“Go to Hell,” she snapped. “I would rather die than marry you.”
