Chapter 10
10
Penny awoke the next morning with a stiff ankle and a very excited Molly shaking her shoulders.
‘Wake up! Wake up, Penny! Dear God! Your poor face! I can’t believe you slipped and ran right into a wall. Mother always says I’m clumsy, and still I’ve never done something as dozy-headed as that.’
Penny bit her tongue and struggled into a sitting position. ‘What is going on, Molly, that you must shake the wits right out of me?’
The laundry maid’s face broke into a bright grin. ‘You’ll never believe wot’s down in the kitchen for us,’ she squealed, reminding Penny how very young the girl was. Only five-and-ten, yet already excelling in the laundry. Molly was jumping up and down next to Penny’s bed.
‘What the devil has gotten into you, Molly?’
‘New clothes! For us! Lord Renquist ordered us all new clothes and they were just now delivered. Shoes, coats, hats! It must have cost him a fortune. Mrs Harding said she’s never seen the like. She thinks he must have lost his mind. First a tutor, now this. But I think it’s marvellous. Brand-new dresses, petticoats, everything! Can you even imagine? Come on! We must go down. He has different sizes for all of us. They’re laid out with our names pinned to each packet. I bet no one will even notice your face when you’re wearing a brand-new uniform!’ Not waiting for Penny, the young girl made a mad dash for the door, her footsteps clattering down the wooden stairs.
Penny shook her head at the unintended insult and dressed as quickly as she could, her ankle screaming every time she put weight on it. Her cheek was a cluster of bee stings burning at once. While she had no mirror, based on Molly’s painfully honest comments, she must look a right fright. Rummaging in the small box she kept next to her bed, she found a pot of salve from her mother. Linseed oil, camphor, honey, and lard, plus a few odds and ends her mother refused to share the details of. It would help with the bruising and speed the healing. A good thing when the injury was so visible. She needed to hurry downstairs, but it was worth the few moments she lost to smear the medicine carefully on her cheek and eye before hurrying out of the room.
New clothes. It was unimaginable. Could this possibly be because Liam had noticed her threadbare skirt and broken shoes?
No. Absolutely not.
And yet, the timing was highly suspicious.
Evil men don’t act with such kindness or consideration.
The bees who stung her cheek must have swarmed into her ear, taking up residence in her mind, for her thoughts were buzzing and chaotic.
Penny took her time brushing and plaiting her hair, twisting the braid into a neat bun. She eased her swollen foot into her still-wet and ratty shoes, then carefully clopped her way to the kitchen.
She might be illiterate, but she wasn’t ignorant enough to mistake the shape of her name.
Penny Smith.
Scrawled in neat, steady script. Did he write her name? Had his hand formed the letters identifying her from a sea of domestics?
Don’t be stupid. It was likely one of the poor seamstresses tasked with sewing so many uniforms with no time to rest.
Or perhaps he had bought the lot, ready-made. Honestly, what did it matter? The entire staff were receiving new clothes. Wasn’t that something to celebrate?
Penny lifted each layer of clothing with a shaking hand. Three new dresses. Petticoats. Four pairs of warm woollen stockings. A shining black pair of half-boots. One smart straw hat with a fetching green ribbon, and at the very bottom of the pile… three hat pins.
Damnation.
Her heart cracked and something hot and sweet melted free, burning down her body as it dripped from her chest to her belly and lower.
The man was diabolical.
Glancing around her, it was clear the other domestics had received one new outfit, a woollen coat each, and shoes. Generous by any standard.
But Penny’s gift far exceeded the others. The extravagance would set tongues wagging if anyone noticed.
Molly rushed to Penny’s side as she hastily hid her excessive gift by wrapping everything in the woollen coat. Molly threw her arm around Penny’s shoulder. ‘Did you see, Penny? I got a hankie. A proper one with daisies stitched on it. Can you even imagine?’
Such a small token, yet so thoughtful. In a horrifying moment of weakness, tears threatened.
I will not cry over handkerchiefs and hatpins!
‘Come, Molly. Let’s take our things up to our room and be about our work, or these clothes will be a parting gift after we’re dismissed for being laze-abouts.’ Penny smiled at the girl whose cheeks were pink with pleasure.
‘I’ve never in all my days,’ Mrs Harding muttered as her hard stare caught Penny. ‘That’s quite a thick package, Miss Smith.’
Penny pressed the woollen coat full of treasures against her chest, her new boots dangling by their shoelaces from her arm. ‘No more than everyone else’s,’ Penny brazenly lied.
Mrs Harding tipped her chin at Penny’s cheek. ‘The marquess mentioned you had an accident. Said you needed light work for the week. Polishing silver. Folding linen. Nothing that puts you on your feet. Don’t see how a cut cheek stops you from completing your tasks, Miss Smith.’
Penny stiffened her spine. ‘He’s mistaken, Mrs Harding. I slipped and cut my face. Nothing more than that. I’m very well indeed and need no special treatment.’
Mrs Harding’s eyes narrowed, her thin lips puckering like a shrivelled raisin. ‘And you’ll get none.’
Penny choked on the harsh retort begging to be let free. Instead, she nodded her head, turned, and endured the sharp pain lancing from her ankle to her knee, refusing to show any sign of weakness as she sailed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room.
Servants were expected to pay attention to the details. To discern by their employer’s slightest movement what they needed. To know in which room the lord or lady resided, when they last ate, what refreshments they preferred at specific times during the day, when they expected service, and when they wished to be left alone.
Penny knew Liam was in his study. She knew he was attending to personal correspondence. She could guess at least one of the important letters he wrote had something to do with the Devil’s Sons. He might even be pulling the brass key out of his pocket to open his secret drawer full of damning parchment all marked with the Sons’ seal. And without a doubt, he wished for solitude.
‘Bugger that!’
His overly generous gesture toward her had put her in a dangerous position. If a servant started receiving special treatment from the lord of the house, jealousies formed and rumours began. If that servant happened to be a maid, accusations were often hurled right before the unfortunate woman found herself out on the street with nary a letter of recommendation to ease her way. His actions could be her undoing. Surely Liam knew that.
Well, if he doesn’t, he’s about to find out.
Pushing open the door of his study, she strode into the cosy room, doing her best to hide the limp, and walked up to his desk, slapping her hands on the leather stopper.
‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’
Liam looked up from his letter. His gaze caught on her cheek, but wisely, he didn’t comment on her appearance. She was hardly in the mood. The quill in his hand dripped a blot of ink onto a line of neat script. Script exactly matching her name scrawled over a piece of brown paper and pinned to a gift far too dear for any servant.
‘I am attempting to reply to a business offer. And I shall now have to redraft my letter. What are you doing, Miss Smith?’
Penny straightened, her hands resting on her hips in a pose she’d once seen her mother use with a debt collector. ‘I am trying to understand why the bloody Marquess of sodding Stonewell would waste his inheritance hiring a tutor and kitting out his servants with new clothes. Especially when one of those servants received three dresses. Three! Do you know how extravagant that is? If anyone had seen?—’
‘It’s so strange. You call me the marquess, so you must know I employ every person in this house, yet you seem to forget it is my choice if I wish to be extravagant. I decide how I want to spend my money. I decide if I want to educate my staff because I believe in the power of learning regardless of station. I choose who I want to buy clothes for, and how many clothes I wish to buy. And fear not about the health of my finances. They are very,’ Liam placed the quill carefully on its holder, ‘very,’ he pushed himself to his feet, ‘robust.’
She refused to think of Liam’s other robust assets.
He took a fluid step closer, prowling around the desk like a jungle cat. The space between them was charged with electricity, like the air before a thunderstorm. This moment had been building since their first kiss in the library, and their second in the brougham. Tension pulling tighter every time they occupied the same room, the intensity of their connection impossible to ignore. ‘You are acutely concerned with the opinion of your peers, Miss Smith. Yet you show no such reticence when setting me down. Something you do with alarming regularity, might I add.’
Penny refused to retreat. Instead, she thrust out her chin. ‘I am concerned when your actions could start rumours that would end my employment here. End my income.’
‘But yelling at your employer poses no such hazards for you?’
Well, bother. He has a point.
Penny exhaled, her chest deflating as she lowered her chin and flicked her gaze from his eyes to his lips. Firm, well-shaped lips she knew tasted of mint and madness.
She forced her focus from his mouth to the brass buttons of his coat, Penny cleared her throat. ‘I… I don’t know how to react to your gift, my lord. Generosity on such a scale is… well, it’s just not done.’
Liam reached up and brushed his fingers over her cheek where the gash stung like the dickens even with the salve. ‘If you only knew the things I wished to do with you. All the things not done between a maid and her marquess that swirl in my mind.’
Penny’s sharp inhalation filled her lungs with wild woods, fresh wind, spice. ‘What kind of things?’ She couldn’t stop the question, even knowing she was playing a dangerous game. But with his scent filling her chest, his amber eyes burning into her very soul, his strong fingers brushing her cheek, his words spiralling in her heated imagination… she cared not for consequences.
Liam’s pupils dilated. He licked his lips and Penny held in the groan of desire he inspired as he leaned closer. ‘Such dark and delicious deeds, sweet Penny. To bury my head between your thighs and taste your sweet nectar on my tongue.’
Oh dear! Is that even a possibility?
Heat rushed to Penny’s cheeks as a roar sounded in her ears. What wickedness he whispered to her. And yet, the very thought caused a rush of wet heat between the very thighs he discussed in such intimate detail.
‘To hear you scream my name as I lick your little bud of pleasure. Did you know there is such magic within you? Such wildness desperate to be set free?’
I most certainly did not.
But, holy hell, she wanted to find out.
‘God, how I want to be the one who shows you, Penny. Who lifts you up beyond these walls to fly free in the cosmos.’
But he couldn’t possibly breach such a distance. And she didn’t want him to free her. The opposite was true. She wanted to cage him. Because he deserved to be shackled. Stripped of his power and prestige. Punished for his crimes.
What crimes? What evidence do I have of his evil outside of a stack of letters I cannot read?
A knock sounded on the door, breaking them apart like a crack in the firmament.
Penny limped quickly to the hearth, fiddling with the coal bucket as Mr Coggins strode in. His sharp gaze flicked from Penny to Liam. ‘Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you from your requested solitude.’ His accusing glare found Penny once more before he refocused on Liam. ‘A gentleman is here wishing to speak with you.’
Would Coggins notice the flush on Liam’s cheeks? The strain tightening the air between the marquess and his maid? He was an astute butler, trained to sense the slightest change in his employer’s mood. Surely, he would suspect the worst.
Penny wished she could break like coal dust and float up the chimney in a cloud of heat and sparks.
‘I’m expecting no callers today, Coggins. Did he leave a card?’ Liam’s voice, a tad rougher than normal, was tight with control. ‘I must say, I’m entirely sick of unwanted visitors.’
‘He hasn’t left at all, sir. I tried to dissuade him from entering, but he insisted.’ Coggins gaze flicked to Penny, apparently feeling this was the appropriate time to chastise her. ‘Miss Smith, I did not assign you to tend the fire here. You are needed in the ballroom. Much must be done to prepare for his lordship’s masque.’
Liam waved his hand as if he were swatting a pesky gnat. ‘I rang for her. I needed someone to tend the flames. Tell me, Coggins. Who the devil is this man?’
‘Perhaps we should dismiss Miss Smith before?—’
‘Damn it, Coggins, who is at my door?’
Coggins straightened his jacket and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a nervous jay on a branch. ‘A Mr Williams, sir. He says you know where his daughter is. He’s threatening to involve Scotland Yard, my lord.’
Penny dropped a piece of coal with the tongs and scrambled to retrieve it.
Bloody hell. A missing girl? Could she be one of the many young women fallen prey to the Devil’s Sons and their hideous flesh trade? Is Liam helping to procure these maids under the guise of offering them work in his household? Dear God. Is this the evidence I’ve been searching to find?
Liam’s entire person shifted. The rugged lines of his jaw hardened. His eyes narrowed. Lips – moments before having spoken such erotically tempting things to Penny – hardened into a straight line of repressed rage. His shoulders widened and his hands curled into fists.
‘Miss Smith, you may leave.’ Liam’s rough voice was cold and impenetrable. Penny returned the tongs to their stand, nearly toppling the brass contraption to the floor. ‘Now,’ he nearly shouted.
Here was the monster deserving of punishment. The enemy she pitted herself against. The beast who nearly killed a man in a dirty alley not far from the Steel.
Penny moved as quickly as her ankle permitted. As she passed Coggins, he stopped her with a hand on her sleeve. ‘Mrs Harding needs you to scrub the floor in the ballroom. Make sure it shines, Miss Smith.’ A filthy, arduous task requiring at least three or four servants. She was being punished to tackle it alone. But it mattered not.
Penny nodded and moved into the hallway.
A stout man with ruddy cheeks and a mutton-chop moustache strode down the hall. His shabby coat and dirty boots pegged him as working class. ‘Where is the bastard? I’ll have me daughter. I won’t stand for this. Where’s my Daisy?’ he bellowed, his wild eyes locking onto Penny as she shrank against the wall. Cheap gin and sweat rolled off the man in sickening waves as powerful as his anger. ‘Tell me where ’e is, girl! Tell me or I’ll thrash you!’ He reached for Penny, but before his thick fingers could grab her arm, he was wrenched away.
‘Don’t fucking touch her!’ The monster was back. And he was roaring. Liam fairly threw the man into the wall. He turned to Penny. ‘I told you to leave.’
Fear was not unfamiliar to Penny. It skated icy fingers down her spine at the steel in his tone and the cold flash in his gaze.
I didn’t want to be right about you.
She bit her lip and nodded her head. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she whispered before rushing down the hall as fast as her sprained ankle would allow.
When she reached the ballroom, she slipped inside the cavernous space. Coggins would be deeply disappointed to know how grateful Penny was to complete this task alone. She needed solitude. Thanks to Coggins, she had hours of it. Leaning against the wall, she gave into the sob clawing up her throat.
He is guilty. I wanted evidence of his evil. Now I have it. A missing girl.
She should feel relief. But grief overwhelmed her in a hot wave. Swiping at her tears, Penny straightened her shoulders and limped to the soapy bucket sitting in the centre of the floor. Scrubbing. The best way to rid oneself of dirt and grime.
But what if that filth was covering someone else’s soul?
Liam fairly dragged Barnaby Williams into his study. The drunk fool was already soused and looking for a fight. Some men became melancholy when deep into their cups. Others were jolly. Barnaby Williams was mean. If he couldn’t find an honest fight, he would pick one with any poor soul weaker than himself. Unfortunately, his daughter, Daisy, found herself on the receiving end of his thrashings one too many times.
She had been working as a maid in Liam’s Belgrave mansion since the past summer. At first, he barely noticed the girl. She was quiet, kept to the corners of rooms, and moved like a little grey mouse, always alert, always watching. But a concerning pattern emerged. Every time Daisy returned to work from her monthly day off, she had new bruises. When Liam questioned her about this, she had reasons. She slipped on the steps and hit her cheek. She dropped a jug of water, and it bruised her arm. The family’s new dog bit her hand and broke her finger. The fourth time Daisy came back from her day off, she had a split lip, black eye, and what Liam guessed by her movements were at least two broken ribs. Liam didn’t ask her what happened. Instead, he made a decision.
He had just found Theo and was planning to retreat with his half-brother to his country estate in Cheshire. Holly House was the perfect location for Theo to convalesce. The fresh country air was sure to do his half-brother’s health a world of good.
Liam determined Daisy would be joining them. She would make a fine addition to his staff in Cheshire. It might also be a haven for Daisy if she wished to make the trial placement permanent. Visiting London was impossible for Daisy on her wages. A hinderance she found quite amenable. In fact, Penny was the new hire that replaced Daisy’s position in his Belgrave house, so it had been a sound decision for many reasons.
Even amidst the horror of losing both Reynard and Theo, Liam took a small measure of comfort in watching Daisy flourish in the country during the three months he spent at Holly House before returning to London.
The young woman found her stride without the fear of her monthly visits home and was well-liked among the staff. As it happened, she found herself smitten with the stable master, and a romance was slowly burning into something that might become more permanent according to the reports he received from his housekeeper there. A woman far more prone to gossip than Mrs Harding.
None of this was information he would ever share with Daisy’s father. The disgusting excuse for humanity didn’t deserve to know his daughter was happy, healthy, and flourishing after escaping her father’s horrific treatment.
Barnaby Williams spun around on unsteady feet as Liam thrust him into the study. The drunk man swiped at his wet eyes before squinting at Liam. ‘Wot ’ave you done with my girl? I need ’er at ’ome! She’s mine. My property and you stole her.’ Barnaby’s red face shone with tears. It wasn’t grief but rage that leaked from his eyes in salty tracks.
‘You are no father, Barnaby. You were a monster to that girl. She is well free of you.’ Liam kept his voice calm as rage swelled like a storm in his chest. ‘You are nothing but a filthy, drunk bastard.’ He wanted to provoke the man, welcoming the blows Barnaby usually delivered to weaker, far more innocent victims. If Liam could make himself Barnaby’s target, he would save someone else the punishment. Because Liam was not weak. He certainly wasn’t innocent. And he would fight back. Harder. Dirtier. Far more viciously than Barnaby could ever fathom.
‘You’ll pay for that!’ Barnaby roared. He clenched his hand into a fist and barrelled head-first toward Liam.
‘Sir!’ Mr Coggins leaped out of the way, nearly landing arse over teakettle on Liam’s Aubusson rug.
Liam could have stepped to the side, but he didn’t want the fool crashing into his late mother’s credenza. It was one of her favourite pieces of furniture. Instead, he braced himself to absorb fifteen stones of drunk, angry man as Barnaby ploughed into him. The bastard drove him back a few steps, but Liam was just as heavy as Barnaby and unlike the portly man, Liam was all muscle. He dug his heels into the carpet, punching Barnaby in the ribs and taking dark pleasure in the crunch of bone and cartilage. He hit him again, aiming for the kidney. Then again in his liver, revelling in the man’s pained grunts.
Barnaby lost his footing and crashed hard on his knees, retching from the powerful blow to his overtaxed liver. Before he could topple forward, Liam caught Barnaby’s grubby chin in his left hand, his cruel fingers digging into the sagging jowls, holding the man upright. ‘Your daughter is gone.’ He smashed his fist into Barnaby’s nose, blood and snot exploding in a gratifying munch of bone. Barnaby lurched backward, but Liam caught his jacket lapel and pulled him back. He cocked his fist. ‘You’ll never be able to take your rage out on her again, you coward.’ Slamming his knuckles into Barnaby’s mouth, teeth broke, cutting his hand, but Liam felt nothing except grim satisfaction. ‘But I’m here, and I’ll happily accommodate your need for fisticuffs, Barnaby. Any time you wish.’ He cocked his fist once more, but the sobbing wretch of a man sickened him. Barnaby’s face was ruined, and Liam’s next hit might knock him senseless.
Shoving him away, Barnaby landed in a heap on the floor. Liam turned to Coggins, who was pressed against the far wall. ‘Get this bastard out of my house.’
Without looking back, he strode out of the room and started walking to the ballroom, instinctually seeking out comfort. Calm. Sanctuary. Penny. Halfway there, he stopped and smashed his fist against the wall. He was so fucking angry. With Barnaby Williams for being a piece-of-filth alcoholic who stooped low enough to beat his defenceless daughter. With Reynard for learning their father’s lessons so well and emulating the bastard. With Richard Renquist for destroying so many innocent lives. With himself for not being able to control his emotions. Rage. Lust. Sorrow. They tore at him like relentless crows picking apart a carcass. He longed for peace, but his head was a screaming whirl of chaos. He couldn’t possibly approach Penny like this.
So tumultuous were his emotions, he might burst into tears like a schoolboy or ravish her on the ballroom floor, no better than a rutting beast seeking oblivion in physical release. What he most wanted to do was wrap his body around hers and let her sweet warmth seep into the frozen fractures of his soul until he felt human once more. And that was a terrifying thought indeed.
Liam turned his feet toward the front door. A hard ride on the new stallion his stable master recently bought should cool his blood. Artemis was barely broken and prone to take the bit in his mouth and have his way. A battle of wills with an animal as powerful and angry as Liam himself would be a grand way to avoid the troubling thoughts crowding his mind. Thoughts centring around a certain maid in his household. A maid who called to the wildness within and soothed his beast. A beast who needed to remain feral for the task ahead. He couldn’t afford to entertain thoughts of peace when his atonement demanded war.