Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
’Twas dark when Eric arrived at Juliet’s parents’ townhouse. There was no way a battered pugilist could knock on the door, present himself, then inquire about a baron’s daughter. Therefore, he tethered his horse to a gate post near the street, then crept to the servant’s entrance.
He didn’t have to wait long for two men wearing livery to exit. Tiptoeing behind them, Eric snuck into the kitchen. His senses on high alert, he navigated the dark, easily finding the servant’s stairwell. Assuming the family’s private rooms were on the second floor, he climbed one flight.
Stealthy and silent, he peered into a hallway illuminated by flickering wall sconces.
Now came the difficult part—finding Juliet’s room.
Barging in on one of her parents would cause an unholy uproar, and there was a good chance Baron Coldpepper kept a pistol beside his bed.
Eric imagined tomorrow’s headline: Invincible Knight Roamer Shot to Death by Lover’s Father.
Eric had a lot of dark thoughts, but his own death was not among them. He simply couldn’t make an error.
If his assumptions were correct, her sisters had not visited lately, which meant there would be no perfumed scents coming from their rooms. Her father’s room would be the largest and probably connected to the balcony out front.
Logically, Lady Coldpepper’s accommodations should be adjacent to her husband’s.
Eric was currently on the back left side of the house.
If he took all of this into consideration, Juliet’s bedroom should be in front of him and close to the center of the long hallway.
Sliding out of the landing, he headed for, then cracked open the door marking the midpoint. No one protested from inside, and he didn’t detect the scent of lilacs.
On light feet, he stole to the next room. He nudged the door so gently that it barely made a sound. This time, Juliet’s intoxicating scent filled his nostrils.
What a bittersweet victory. He’d broken into the house and found her room, but so could any nefarious person who intended to harm one of Coldpepper’s daughters—something needed to be done about the beggarly security.
Eric slipped inside and surveyed what he was certain was Juliet’s private chamber.
Moonlight dappled across the bed, illuminating the far wall.
His well-trained night eyes scanned the dark corners.
Thereupon, his heartbeat stuttered, but not in the pleasant way it did when he was in her presence.
Her undisturbed belongings signified she’d not yet been home.
Eric sat on the edge of her bed, pondering where she might be. There was a chance he’d arrived in London before her since she was in a slower-moving carriage. However, his horsemanship skills were so lacking that a timely arrival on his part seemed unlikely.
What if she’d had a carriage accident? Or been set upon by highwaymen? Or actually been abducted this time—by Riley! He wouldn’t put it past the lecherous, no-good rat.
Riley needed to drown in his own blood, and Eric’s alter-persona was only too happy to make this happen.
Eric bolted up the back stairwell of The Pink Petal, nodding at Flynn Collins as he charged past him.
“Stone, you’ve returned,” Flynn called to his back. “Thank feck. Things have gone to hell since ye left.”
Moaning, Eric halted his climb and faced Flynn.
“Malestorm sent Auntie a missive. Didn’t have the guts to show up here himself. Told her that until she puts you on leading strings, her rent is increasing.”
Unfortunately, it sounded as though Eric’s threat had backfired.
So be it. If angry mobs were seeking the Knight Roamer’s head, Eric might as well make his decapitation worth it.
After he left Riley face down in a pool of his own blood, he’d choke the last breath from Malestorm.
An asphyxiated swine couldn’t threaten Auntie, or any of his other unfortunate tenants, ever again.
“I’ll take care of him,” Eric mumbled. Best to leave the gory details out.
“That’s not all,” Flynn said.
Eric assumed as much since Flynn still stared at him, looking as if someone had pissed in his favorite shoes.
“Two men have been skulking about the grounds late at night,” Flynn said. “One is practically a real-life giant. The other has a ridiculously long mustache. Curls up on both ends. I’ve chased ’em away twice.”
“Don’t know them,” Eric said, his gut twisting. Men who skulked about brothels without making themselves known or paying were rarely harmless saints.
Flynn rubbed his brow.
“Something else?” Eric asked, shifting his weight back and forth. Somehow, he needed to speed up this conversation.
“Riley’s been on a rampage. I’m afraid he is going to hurt Abigail or one of the other girls. I forced him to leave last night. I suspect he will return with a vengeance. Perhaps even try to shut us down.”
“I’ll take care of that, too,” Eric said. “I borrowed a horse. Tied him out front. Could you stable him somewhere nearby?”
“Aye,” Flynn said.
Eric pivoted directions, continuing up the stairs.
“Need help?” Flynn called.
“Nope,” Eric said over his shoulder. “Just see to the horse.” His directive served two purposes.
Firstly, Harvey was a damn fine horse. A bit surly and opinionated, but it wasn’t the animal’s fault that Eric was a shite equestrian.
Secondly, caring for the horse would keep Flynn busy.
The last thing Eric wanted was for his friend to carry vengeful deeds on his conscience.
Eric stormed into his room, intent on grabbing the bag containing Knight Roamer’s appurtenances.
He stopped short and glared at the man sitting in his chair, twirling Knight Roamer’s mask.
Rope, gags, and Eric’s blade lay on the floor.
The damnable arse had broken into his chamber, emptied his black bag of doom, and even had the presumption to light the bedside lantern.
“Hallo, Stone. Figured you’d eventually stop by,” Hugh Fletcher said. “Or should I just call you Knight Roamer?”
From Eric’s attic view, it appeared as though thousands of twinkling lights dotted impressive, shadowed buildings.
However, this was an illusion of detachment, because when Eric left his sanctuary, Whitechapel was rundown, overflowing with the worst sort of degenerates, smoggy, and smelled of rot and filth.
“Are you listening to me?” Fletcher asked.
Without tearing his gaze from the window, Eric murmured, “Yeah.”
This was the unmitigated truth. So far, Fletcher had explained that the giant and the mustache were his associates, and they’d overheard a carriage driver in a pub quietly telling a story to the man next to him:
“‘I don’t wanna repeat his name ‘cause he’d slit my throat if he knew I saw. But I was sitting in the carriage on Drury Lane when I watched it all with my own eyes. The cowardly lord hid behind a woman. If Knight Roamer hadn’t come along and saved her, the thief might have slit her throat.
And then, Knight Roamer kissed her like he was a swashbuckling hero in an old tale, right before he sprinted into the night.
I tell you, I don’t think he abducted her. I think she ran away with him.’”
Fletcher’s jaw clenched. “Personally, I think it was Riley’s own carriage driver that witnessed the scene.”
Perhaps this was the carriage driver that Eric had overheard Riley berating and Juliet trying to protect right before the incident with the armed thieves.
“The story is mostly true,” Eric said. “But she didn’t run away with Knight Roamer.” Not intentionally anyway.
Fletcher shrugged. “Maybe not, but the day I dropped you off at Chesterhill Manor, the Knight Roamer sightings ceased. No Juliet Coldpepper, no Eric Stone, and no Knight Roamer. And then there is the fact that you are one deuce of a fighter, large and as strong as an ox, as is the masked avenger.”
Eric rubbed his temple. He needed to find Juliet.
“A version of this story appeared in The Daily Dispatch of London today,” Fletcher said.
“What in the blazes are you talking about?” Eric asked.
“A reporter who goes by AW reported that Knight Roamer humiliated Lord Riley. Obviously, there were rumors, seeing as how I overheard one. But now all of London knows the truth.”
Eric harrumphed. The rumors are probably what had set the evil lordling into the volatile temper Flynn referenced. The article would probably unleash the unholy demon onto the entire world.
“And then came my final clue,” Fletcher said.
Eric turned from the window to regard the thief-taker.
“Miss Coldpepper showed up on my doorstep a few hours ago, having obviously been at Chesterhill Manor at the same time as you. However, she conveniently left out that someone else was visiting. Now, why might that be? I asked myself. The only reason I can come up with for her leaving out that detail is that she favors you and is trying to conceal her feelings.”
Thank God and all that was holy, because if she were with Fletcher, she couldn’t be with Riley. “Are you saying she is safe?” Eric asked.
“Yes. I figured you’d follow her to London, so I decided to come here and wait for you.” Fletcher pointed at Knight Roamer’s accessories littering the floor. “The contents of your bag provided me with the proof I required.”
“Where is she?” Eric asked as he scanned his possessions.
“She is outside right now.” Fletcher chuckled. “She followed me here. She tried to be stealthy, but her boots clicking on the cobbles gave her away.”
“Out front or out back?” Eric asked.
“Out front, last time I checked.”
Eric bolted across the room to the window that faced the street.
He pressed his nose against the glass and peered down.
Although he could make out figures moving about, none of them appeared to be the graceful, willowy Juliet.
He shot to the back window, which was a pointless endeavor because he couldn’t find a human form in the small courtyard.
Once again, his worldview was twinkling lights and massive buildings.
Eric’s temper snapped. “You just left her alone in front of a brothel in Whitechapel. Are you mad?”
Fletcher scoffed. “Take it from me, at some point, a woman is going to do what she is going to do. We can’t control them, mate. All we can do is support them and love them. She’ll probably storm up here any moment to lambaste you for not being truthful with her about who you are.”
As long as she was safe, Eric would suffer his scolding.
Fletcher stood. “By the by, I tracked down the source of a rumor floating about that approximately a year ago, a one-armed man tied up a woman and fled when her husband came home. Not sure if you heard it or not.”
Oh, Eric had heard it all, alright. This was the news that had brought his alternate personality to fruition.
“I was able to track down this man. He’s in Newgate for other offences,” Fletcher said. “He is only three and twenty, therefore not old enough to be the person who murdered your mother. But I’ll keep looking.”
At the moment, the only thing Eric cared about was Juliet’s safety.
Fletcher sauntered to the door, tossing Eric his mask.
“In case you are wondering, I have no intention of outing your identity. However, I do suggest a more aesthetically pleasing costume. That old hood looks like the disguise of a delusional man. And you, my friend, happen to be one of the few sane people in this Gomorrah of a city.” Whistling like a cocksure fool, Fletcher let himself out.
Interesting indeed, because Eric sure as hell didn’t feel sane. He dropped to the floor, hurriedly shoving Knight Roamer’s shocking equipage into the black bag.