Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Most of the time, Eric awoke late, sore, and grumpy, but not this morning. Having sated his sexual desires, his muscles were quite relaxed. Additionally, since he was looking forward to spending the day with Juliet, his negativity was replaced by optimism.
He imagined Juliet in his mind’s eye—still naked with deliciously disheveled hair from last night’s tup fête. Grinning wickedly, he rolled onto his side with every intent of wrapping her in an embrace. Unfortunately, he found himself staring at the wall instead of a woman. He huffed in frustration.
Knowing Juliet, she’d probably awoken early and was traipsing about Whitechapel as if she were on a scenic outing. He needed to dress and track her down since he doubted that she knew her way around his borough.
Sitting up and leaning his back against the headboard, he regarded his chamber.
His lantern was missing, and he didn’t see Juliet’s dress. Her cloak was still draped over the back of his chair, and her boots lay alongside one wall. It hardly seemed likely that she was wandering the city barefoot and without a coat.
She had mentioned she was hungry, so perhaps she had gone to the kitchen in search of food. She was probably charming Mrs. Paulson at this very moment. Hell, Juliet would probably take it upon herself to seek out Auntie, introduce herself, and wish the East End’s best-known abbess a good morning.
He pictured Auntie trying to hide her confusion behind a convivial expression as Juliet, very sweetly and sincerely, told her what a lovely house she had.
Chuckling, he threw off the counterpane and then gathered his clothing.
He’d just slid into his shirt when someone knocked on his door. Probably Juliet, in which case he could peel and tempt her back into his bed. Good God, he was becoming insufferably prideful. He’d work on tempering his ego later; for now, he had a woman to charm.
Aiming for a seductive grin, he threw the door wide.
Wearing only a silk chemise, red slippers, and a hair ribbon, Abigail slid her gaze from his half-buttoned shirt to his bare thighs.
Wincing, he stepped behind the door and peered around it. “What can I do for you?”
Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes met his.
“Have you been crying?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Give me a moment to dress,” he said.
He tried to close the door, but Abigail stopped him with an outstretched hand. “He has her. I’m so sorry. Truly. I swear.”
He tried to make sense of her hysterical declaration, but his brain was still half-asleep. “Who has who?”
“Lord Riley. He has the blonde lady who came here last night looking for you.”
Was she saying that Riley had Juliet? Eric grabbed Abigail by the shoulders. “Was this woman wearing a modest blue dress, and did she come to my room last night?”
Sniffling, Abigail nodded.
Not wanting to hurt Abigail with his firm grip, Eric released her. However, his gaze remained intense, and his voice turned stern. “Where did he take her?”
“He was more horrible than ever last night. So angry and aggressive.”
Eric stifled the roar that threatened to shred his lungs. “Did he hurt you again?”
Abigail pointed to the red lines circling her neck. By tomorrow, the bruises would be black and blue.
Enough was enough. Riley’s reign of terror was about to end.
“He will be held accountable.” Now that Eric had the money to free them all, they no longer had to placate their despicable patrons.
Although even if Chesterhill didn’t come through with the money, Eric would be damned if he’d stand by and allow this abuse to continue.
“Where did he take my visitor?” he demanded.
“All night he kept saying, ‘I’ll make them pay. Every last one of them. Especially him. If he thinks he can steal my fiancée, that boxer has another thing coming.’ He left my room before sunrise.
I was so happy he was gone, so I don’t know why I followed him, except that since you are the only boxer I know, I was afraid you were the one he meant to harm.
He didn’t see me, but I saw him. He had a knife to her throat and forced her out the kitchen door to the back alley. ”
But the sun had probably risen at least an hour ago. “Abigail, why did you wait so long to tell me?”
A waterfall of tears cascaded down her cheeks, soaking her chin and neck. “I don’t know. I guess because she got to be with you last night, and I had to be with him. And I hate her for it. But it doesn’t mean I want him to hurt her. And I’m…I’m sorry.”
Eric roared.
“I’m sorry, Eric,” Abigail said between her whimpers.
He hated that Abigail’s heart was hurting. He detested that this was her life, but he couldn’t excuse her jealousy or accept her apology while Juliet was in danger.
“If you will excuse me,” he said, “I need to find them before he hurts her.”
She blinked her wet lashes, and then, shoulders sagging, Abigail scampered away.
Eric bolted to his trousers and hurriedly dressed.
Grabbing the black bag from beneath his bed, he tossed it over his shoulder.
He sprinted down the back staircase into the kitchen, where Mrs. Paulson leaned over a mangled loaf of bread that had fallen onto the floor.
His missing oil lamp sat on the large worktable.
He didn’t even bother with a polite greeting; he simply called, “Have you seen a pretty blonde woman or Lord Riley this morning?”
Mrs. Paulson’s brow furrowed. “No. I stayed up late last night baking bread and pies. A bit too late, if truth be told. So, I overslept. I just walked in to find this.” She pointed at the bread. “I think this is blood.”
Eric squatted beside her. Sure enough, drops of blood dotted both the bread and the floor. He moaned.
“What is it, my dear?” she asked.
When Eric found them, Riley was a dead man. “I have to go. I’ll explain later.” He stood and started toward the door, halting mid-step because Flynn entered the kitchen.
“What am I doin’ up at this God forsaken, feckin’ hour?” Flynn asked while rubbing his eyes.
Auntie and Imogene were right behind Flynn. Auntie still wore her nightclothes. Imogene’s dark curls were held in place by her mobcap, and she grasped a feather duster in her fist.
Abigail brought up the rear, tears dripping from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Eric. I was worried.”
If Abigail had awoken everyone, hoping that they might convince him not to go after Riley, she’d roused his loved ones for no reason. The entire Cavalry couldn’t stop him. He stomped toward the back door.
“Eric,” Auntie said, her voice gentle. “Slow down and tell us what is wrong.”
“Riley has the woman I love,” Eric said. “And I think he has already hurt her.”
“There is blood on the floor,” Mrs. Paulson said. “I don’t know what happened, but it seems my bread was involved, and my knife is missing.”
Auntie gasped as she brought a hand to her heart.
“Where do you think he took her?” Flynn asked.
“His family’s townhouse in Mayfair,” Eric said confidently. However, panic squeezed his lungs. It would take a long time to get across London, and what if that wasn’t where they were? “Where is my horse stabled?” he asked Flynn.
“Nagshead Mews,” Flynn said. “Behind The Old Smoke Tavern.”
Eric once again headed toward the back door.
“He might have taken her to his private apartment,” Abigail said, her voice meek.
Eric halted and faced her. “Where is that?”
“High Street,” Abigail said. “Above the High Street Exchange and across from—”
“Malestorm’s office,” Eric finished. It figured the like-minded devils had more in common than harassing the fairer sex, neighbors, and all.
Abigail nodded. “He sometimes tells me about taking other women there. Says he wants to take me. But I don’t want to go there.”
Auntie crossed her arms over her chest. “I never let my girls leave this building.”
Thank Christ!
Since the pawn shop wasn’t far, Eric wouldn’t need Harvey.
“Do ye want me to come with ye?” Flynn asked. “Extra muscle.”
For a second, Eric considered Flynn’s offer, deciding against it. “No. I want you to exercise Harvey.” That should keep his mate occupied, so he wasn’t an accomplice in the evisceration of a peer of the realm.
“Harvey?” Flynn asked
Apparently, Flynn didn’t realize the black stallion had a name. “My horse.” Chesterhill’s horse, really, but while the equine was in London, Eric was claiming him.
“You have a horse and are in love?” Auntie smiled.
“Are we to have a wedding soon?” Mrs. Paulson wrapped him in his arms. Meanwhile, Imogene bounced on her toes, waving the duster about.
They didn’t seem to understand the dangerous situation because this was not the time for celebration. “He means to harm her,” Eric gruffed. “I have to find them right away.” This time, he made it to the back door and shoved it open.
“Be careful,” Auntie called. “I love you.”
“We all love you,” Mrs. Paulson said.
“Best lad in the world,” Flynn added.
The door closed before Eric had a chance to tell them that he loved them, too.