Page 50 of Indecently Daring

“My lady! Miss!”

They were barely out of the yard when the landlord, Mr Bishop, shouted after them.

“His lordship said you needed transport, and I was to provide it for you. Well, it ain’t much, but I put my Bessie up before the cart. She’s a good goer, and you can take her if you still need to?”

“Lord Kilbane arranged it?” Cat asked.

“Aye, paid me enough to buy the damned thing too, excuse my French,” he added with a sheepish smile.

Cat flashed a triumphant grin at Alana, who let out a huff of laughter. Well, even the devil had a good day now and then, it seemed.

Harry’s prayers were answered when the carriage stopped at the Maiden’s Head in Uckfield for the night. He had been forced to stop and check every blasted carriage he passed, not having a clue what the one Jeb had been taken in looked like. Throwing Pirate’s reins at the nearest groom, Harry leapt down and ran to investigate the latest suspect. The pub windows glowed in the darkness, the sound of chatter and the scent of dinner drifting out on the chill evening air. He hoped everyone was too busy eating and drinking to pay him any mind and hurried closer to the carriage.

It was an ancient, rotten thing that looked to be held together with string and muck. How it was still in one piece, he couldn’t fathom. With a glance about him to check no one was paying him any mind, he crept towards it and peered through the filthy window. It was impossible to see much in the gathering gloom, so Harry dared to crack open the door. A musty, stale smell billowed out, bad personal hygiene mixed with something oddly familiar. It hit him all at once, a memory from those black days when he was less particular about the company he kept. Opium.

Something shifted in the darkness, giving a soft groan.

“Jeb?” Harry whispered. “That you lad?”

There was no answer, so Harry crept inside. In the dim light, he could just make Jeb out, curled in a ball on the floor of the carriage. There was a livid bruise on his fair cheek and his new waistcoat was ripped, the buttons all gone. He’d put up one hell of a fight, the brave boy. Harry’s heart contracted. The bastard must have drugged him to keep him quiet.

“Come along, Jeb,” Harry said, though the child was so far out of it he doubted he registered anything. He shrugged off his coat, wrapped up the boy, and lifted him in his arms. Harry was carrying him back to Pirate when a loud and furious voice cut through the twilight.

“’Ere, what d’you think you’re doing with my boy?”

“Taking him home where he belongs,” Harry said calmly.

“You can’t take my property. I bought and paid for him!” the man roared.

Harry was very aware of the size of the fellow coming up behind him and had little choice but to set Jeb down on the floor where Pirate had been tethered.

“Look after him, boy,” he murmured to the horse, stroking his silky nose before turning his attention to the brute bearing down on him.

“You cannot buy a child, sir,” he said, though he knew all too well that was a lie. “It is morally wrong. Have you no care for your immortal soul?”

“I have a care for my bleedin’ wallet,” the fellow retorted. “I paid good money for him.”

“Very well, then I shall reimburse you for the child and for your trouble.” Harry held up the heavy money purse, still a little stunned Kilbane had offered it. There must be five times what the man had handed over inside it, if not more. The man’s eyes lit with greed.

“Perhaps I’ll take the money and the boy,” he said with a nasty grin.

Harry sighed. He’d suspected it would be inevitable, but occasionally one liked to be proven wrong. “You’re not taking the boy, but you are welcome to the money.”

“Both,” the fellow said, crossing his meaty arms across his enormous girth.

Eyeing him dubiously, Harry wondered how much of the fellow’s bulk was fat, and how much muscle. He certainly outweighed Harry by a good three or four stone, likely more, but he was hardly at the peak of good health. His colour was florid, and his hurry from the pub to where Harry stood already had him breathing fast.

“I’m sorry. I cannot allow you to take the boy against his will.”

“His will,” the man said with a sneer of contempt. “He’s just a child. He ain’t got no will.”

“Oh, he has, and I’m here to see it done,” Harry said, his voice implacable.

“Right you are then, vicar. I ain’t never clobbered a man of the cloth before, but I’m willing to give it a go.”

Harry jumped back, narrowly missing a fist that would have broken his nose.

“Come along then, my lad, or are you afraid to spoil that pretty face?”