Chapter 13
Horsemen’s Safe House
Leicester Square, London
Beatrice leaned back on the wooden spindle chair at the servants' table in the safe house's lower-level dining room, closed her eyes, and sniffed deeply of the aroma of freshly baked muffins that Josef had just retrieved from the oven.
It was as if a guardian angel had sent the man, which probably was not far from the truth.
Though she'd not met the aristocrat Carrington-Bowles who was a friend of the Horsemen, she blessed him for his good friend Nathaniel Charpentier, who was the celebrated chef of Club Ambrosios and catered for some of most prominent families of London, had graciously loaned them one of his chefs.
When she'd awakened earlier that morning, she'd shuddered to think of another day of trying to cook, before the scent of cinnamon assailed her nose.
When she'd crept down to the kitchen from her bedchamber to investigate, there he was, sort of like Saint Josef facing the hateful dragon-like stove.
She'd finished her muffin and was eating the last of the crumbs from the plate when there was a loud jangling of the bells on the wall that summoned servants on the whim of the lady of the house.
Warrick was nowhere to be seen, and she assumed that perhaps she'd worn him out the night before.
The door to his bedchamber had been closed when she'd crept past on her way to the kitchen.
She tried to enjoy the moment and not dwell on the dark forces trying to destroy both Rowe Shipping and the Horsemen.
She tried not to think about her beloved son on his way to her father's house in Amsterdam.
Beatrice calculated in her head, wondering when he would arrive safely into the care of his grandfather.
She sucked in a deep breath and went back into the kitchen to prepare a tray for Sally Big'uns.
This time, she could hold her head up high at the perfectly cooked sausages, eggs, and muffins.
She wondered if Sally knew about Josef yet.
Maybe she could make her think she'd cooked the breakfast feast.
No, that was a laughable, bad idea. Sally would know.
She'd probably also suspect how Beatrice had spent the previous evening, being thoroughly ravished by the Viking-like man who would probably never stop invading her dreams from now on, or her bed, if she was lucky.
The revelation of how love-making should be almost made her sad for the lost years of her life with a husband who'd ignored her.
She'd be forever grateful Warrick Dyer had stormed into her life, no matter all the other consequences his thieving ways might bring down on her head.
When Sally's tray was ready, Beatrice carefully trod up the slick stone servants' steps to her mistress's lair. It appeared Sally was determined to spend their hair-raising time together propped up by plump pillows and being served all her meals in bed.
Once she'd backed through the servant's entrance to Sally's bedchamber, Beatrice turned and nearly dropped the breakfast tray. Sally was up and wearing a wine-red carriage dress. Her hair was smartly coiffed and settled snug beneath a fetching little red confection of a hat.
Sally snatched one of Josef's muffins from the tray before explaining, "There's no time to lose. We have to go raid a baby farm. Ban sent me a message that he and his spies finally found the one your brother-in-law's been using to supplement the young sweeps he's been taking to do his dirty work."
"Where? Have you told Warrick yet?"
"Off Maiden Lane in White Chapel. And no, we haven't awakened the sleeping beast. We agreed he'd take it better from you."
"Why me?"
Sally threw her a look part incredulous and part knowing. "Don't you think it's a little late in the game to be pretending innocence?"
"But..."
Sally brusquely interrupted her. "We don't have time to hear about your 'chaste' relationship with Warrick Dyer."
After a long few seconds of exchanging scowls, Beatrice backed down first. "All right. I'll go get him, but I won't be responsible for his reaction."
As she headed back down stairs, Sally's voice floated down to her. "Don't forget to use those disguises Dickie brought over last night."
"Disguises?" Beatrice mumbled to herself. A woman tries to get a few hours' sleep and misses out on a whole night of Horsemen hijinks.
The minute she reached Warrick's bedchamber and tapped on the door, he was there, fully dressed in his disguise of the day and ready to go.
He wore his old Royal Navy uniform, which he'd shredded a bit to show more wear.
He'd covered one eye with a bandage and added a watch cap pulled low over his face to hold the dressing in place.
He gave the simple housekeeper's dress she wore a withering look which sent her scrambling to her bedchamber to choose one of four different disguises someone had set out for her whilst she'd been delivering Sally's breakfast tray.
She decided the apple seller's dress would work, and besides, that costume had brought her luck before when they'd rescued the young sweeps.
She slipped out into the kitchen garden to rub some dirt onto her face and arms to complete the look.
Warrick gauged the mood at The Angel as grim when they all gathered to forge a plan before traveling by lightermen to Coppers Wharf from where they could split up and move in small groups to the Maiden Lane establishment on the west side of Covent Garden.
The tavern keeper, Maggie Church, moved quietly to and from their tables, delivering tankards of ale.
All three of his brothers were there with a back-up contingency of men that would be the envy of the armies of some small countries.
They'd wisely spread them out. All of their right-hand men were seated around the tavern, either at the bar, or at various tables, each with at least six men.
The rest were patrolling the outskirts of the tavern, and another contingent were already headed toward the baby farm to avoid any ugly surprises.
Although Warrick had counseled against her idea, Beatrice had insisted on involving some of her warehouse and dock workers who were loyal to her.
They would meet the Horsemen's forces at the baby farm to make sure they could crush anyone who tried to stop them.
She'd been adamant that she could trust all of them to a man.
"With your life?" he'd asked her as he was finishing his tankard, but she'd remained stubbornly convinced her men should be allowed to help stop Silas Rowe's evil plans.
When he'd argued with her, his brothers had all given him ominous looks.
He knew how they felt about outsiders, but he also wanted Beatrice to know that he trusted her and considered her an equal partner in their ventures.
Beatrice had sent word to the man who managed her warehouse to gather ten of her most loyal employees and have them meet her at Coppers Wharf late that afternoon.
She was confident there would be safety in numbers, so had arranged for them to join the Horsemen's forces before heading to the baby farm.
As the lighterman she and Warrick were on approached the wharf, her heart lifted to see all of the men she knew to be loyal to her, patiently awaiting their arrival.
With their extreme show of force, there was no resistance from the people who ran the baby farm.
They simply stood back when the Horsemen and their men appeared and pounded at the front gate.
She told her men to stay outside, just in case Silas and his minions decided to attack them once they were inside, liberating the children.
Once inside, Warrick and his brothers exchanged odd looks.
"What's wrong?" Beatrice had never been inside a baby farm.
"There are very few children here, which seems a bit suspicious, like maybe they knew we were coming.
" Warrick kept his boarding axe in his hand until a very thin babe toddled out from a side room, a filthy wrapping drooping down to his knees.
Warrick slung his axe back across his back immediately and bent to the level of the child.
Fam joined him and shouted to one of the women who worked there. "A clean clout for this child, if you please."
"There's naught left. Laundry's not done yet for the week."
Ban took off his linen shirt and ripped the cloth on the backside to a proper rectangle that would cover the child's poor, sore-covered bottom."
Con moved to the nearest matron. "The kitchen woman--. We need some hot water and soap for these children. When she gave him a defiant look, he duck-walked her toward the lower level where there would no doubt be some sort of kitchen.
Although ten to fifteen children of various ages swirled in and out of the entryway, curious at the noise, Beatrice had to agree with the Horsemen.
Something was not right. A baby farm would hardly be profitable with so few children.
She watched, fascinated, as Warrick and Fam carefully tended to the little boy with the filthy bottom covering.
For burly, fearsome-looking men, they were unusually gentle and attentive with the children. She was glad she wasn't one of the matrons, because the rage the Horsemen obviously felt at the conditions the children were kept in was palpable.
Beatrice had never encountered men who were so deft and caring with small children. Neither her father nor her late husband had ever shown the slightest interest in babies.
The Horsemen had ordered carriages to arrive so that the children could be sent to Missus Kamish to be paired with adoptive families.
When everyone began carrying children out toward the entryway, she approached Warrick and his brother Con, and she overheard them voicing concerns.
"This makes me nervous. There was no one here to oppose us. The whole operation was entirely too easy." Con swung his gaze from one end of the great entry hallway to the other.
Fam chipped in. "Way too quiet."
Ban agreed. "I can't understand. I was exceedingly careful in my investigation. No one could have known we were coming."
Warrick swung his boarding axe from its usual place slung across his back and headed toward the front entrance. "I heard something."
His brothers and their men followed him at a trot. Beatrice brought up the rear more slowly.
When they walked out into the courtyard which was bathed in late afternoon sun, Beatrice let out a guttural sound like a wounded animal. Eleven bloodied bodies lay around the fountain at the entrance. All of her men had been murdered.
Her vision clouded and narrowed to the circle of broken bodies of her men. She'd been betrayed. Someone in the Horsemen's circle had relayed inside information to her enemies. And her men had paid with their lives.
She couldn't face Warrick, and so she ran. She ran until she reached a busy street where she could hail a hack carriage. She didn't care who among them had betrayed her. She'd face her wretched excuse for a brother-in-law on her own and demand an explanation.
She stiffened when the driver gave her a dismissive look when she tried to climb into his carriage.
"I'll see the color of your coin, Missus, before you come aboard, if you please."
Beatrice stifled a tart reply when she realized she was dressed as a street seller who probably would never have the coin to hire a carriage. She hastily paid her fare in advance and directed him to take her to Well Close Square.
The minute the driver dropped her at her gate, she squared her shoulders and prepared to do battle with the craven criminal who was her husband's brother.
As soon as her footman opened the door, all of her resolve faded, like the roses on her garden gate at the end of the season.
Silas Rowe stood before her when she swept into the study where the footman led her.
..but he wasn't alone. Willie and Anneke stood to either side of him.
Willie's face was screwed up in a frown which told her he was trying hard not to cry.
Anneke wasn't even trying. Her eyes were red, and tears rolled down her face.
"For the love of all that's holy, what happened, Anneke? Where is Captain Jarlsson?"
Silas smirked. "He's at the bottom of the North Sea by now. Another poor, deluded man destroyed by an unnatural attraction to you, Beatrice. And before I'm done, you'll be the death of your criminal lover, Warrick Dyer, as well."
"You...you're the one who had my men killed."
He gave her a smug smile, like a dog who's stolen a fresh pail of cow's milk. "They were disloyal curs."
"How did you know where we'd be?"
"Not only are you the world's worst excuse for a business owner, but you're not even a very smart whore. Ask your lover. He's the one who gave you up."
A deep cold rose from the depths of her gut and settled over where she used to have a heart. "What do I have to do to get you to leave us alone? You can have the shipping company. I don't care. Willie, Anneke, and I will return to Amsterdam."
"I already have the shipping company." He laughed at her shocked reaction.
"I've been granted temporary control of Rowe Shipping.
Pending a competency hearing, the evidence of your association with known criminals has been presented to the magistrate, complete with detailed documentation of your meetings with Warrick Dyer and testimony from witnesses who saw you together.
You have no one to blame but yourself, Beatrice Rowe. "