The Last Man in London Read online

  They looked like scratch marks.

  Ben felt fury rise in his blood, his fists clenching as he realised why Dinah had looked so afraid. He turned back to her now, to see Joe give the man one last look that boded ill for his future health and longevity before he ushered Dinah out of the room.

  Joe would see Dinah safe home first, he knew that much. She was always his priority, but now he’d seen the man’s face and knew where to find him, he’d be back. But Ben didn’t have to go anywhere, and he wasn’t about to wait for Joe to settle the score for the harm he’d done.

  No matter that Dinah had broken his heart that foul creature had beaten and hurt her and frightened her out of her wits. He could understand the man’s anger at being cheated, but nothing could excuse such an act of violence. If not for Dinah’s own furious fight to get away, he shuddered to think what might have happened to her. Ben would make him pay.

  He figured it would take Joe a good hour to see Dinah home and return here, and after fifty minutes of watching the young fellow at play, Ben was getting impatient. It had taken all his efforts to ditch Tommy after promising faithfully that he was neither going to drink nor gamble any longer, but that he did not wish to go home. That his friend was worried about him was clear enough, but at length and after numerous assurances of his well-being, Ben persuaded Tommy to leave him be.

  At last, the young fellow who Ben had now identified as a Mr Redmond, nephew to Lord Bexley, seemed ready to leave. ‘Bokko’ Bexley had always been a bully and was not well liked. It appeared the apple didn’t fall far from the tree in that family.

  Ben got to his feet, following at a discreet distance as the man left by the front door, and, to Ben’s relief, walked home rather than take advantage of one of the hackney carriages waiting outside. Ben walked at a steady pace, keeping Redmond in sight but keeping well back. If he was staying with his uncle, as Ben thought likely, the man would cut through a narrow alleyway that would shorten his journey by a mile or more. If he did, he was a fool, as it was a notorious spot for thieves and pickpockets, but Ben was counting on the fact that the fellow was not known for his brains any more than he was for his wit or charm.

  Relieved to discover that he was right, Ben quickened his pace, waiting until Redmond was in the middle of the rather gloomy alley. Buildings pressed in on all sides and only the faintest glimmer of moonlight broke through the narrow slit of night sky above them.

  “Hey, Redmond, hold up,” Ben called, his voice amicable enough as the man turned. “It’s Lancaster. Hold up there.”

  As he’d suspected, the young man was delighted to be hailed by someone of Ben’s stature and notoriety. It was clear enough the fellow was looking to make a name for himself as a man about town, but he had none of the rakish charm required for such an endeavour.

  Ben took his time, walking closer as Redmond relaxed on seeing it really was him.

  “Lord Lancaster, a pleasure to see you. I noticed you were playing tonight. Bad luck, my lord,” the fellow added, a rather smug glint in his eyes. “But then, you can’t win them all.”

  “No, indeed,” Ben replied through gritted teeth, before punching the man hard in the gut. He doubled up, winded and gasping as his eyes glittered with pain and surprise. Ben watched with satisfaction as Redmond fell to his knees, staring up at Ben with fear now.

  “I meant no insult, my lord,” he gasped as Ben grabbed hold of his hair and yanked his head back.

  “That’s not why, you young hell-hound,” Ben growled as he pushed the man away from him so hard that he sprawled in the dirt. He watched as Redmond scrambled away, scrabbling at the filthy alley to get up again. Ben allowed him to stand before moving forward and dealing a blow that sent him reeling backwards into a wall. He smiled, a hard and unpleasant expression as he watched Redmond slide down and land in a heap, blood streaming from what Ben sorely hoped was a broken nose. “How did you get those scratches on your face?” he demanded, his tone icy, watching the moment when the realisation hit home.

  Redmond’s eyes grew wide and horrified and he held out both hands. “I didn’t know she was yours, m-my lord,” he stammered, his voice breaking, like he might cry at any moment. “If I’d known the wench belonged to you, I’d never have …”

  Ben kicked him hard and Redmond cried out. “She’s no wench, you worthless scab.” Ben reached down as Redmond tried his best to scramble away, but to no avail. Holding both of his arms behind his back, he slammed the man into the wall face first. “How does it feel,” he asked, his tone savage now. “How does it feel to be helpless, with someone bigger and stronger holding you at their mercy?”

  Redmond shook his head, crying in earnest now, pitiful pleas for mercy that only disgusted Ben all the more. “I should cut your throat, you miserable excuse for a man,” Ben growled as the fellow wailed and trembled.

  “I’ll do it, if ye like.”

  Ben spun around to see that Joe had caught up with him and was looking at Redmond like a spider with a big, fat fly caught in its web.

  Ben cursed as Redmond’s legs buckled and he let him fall the floor.

  “Much as I’d like to take you up on that offer, Joe,” Ben said, meeting the man’s eyes as they glinted in the near dark. “We can’t murder him.”

  “Pity,” Joe remarked, as Redmond clung to Ben’s leg like he was his lord and saviour, begging him for mercy. “You quite sure about that?”

  Ben kicked him off in disgust. “Sadly, yes,” he replied, crouching down and grabbing Redmond by the hair once more. “The lady you hurt was Miss Dinah Osborne. If ever you come across her again, you will treat her with as much respect as you would a queen.” Redmond nodded, gibbering and crying that he’d do anything, anything at all if they let him go. “And if,” Ben continued, his voice hard and cold and furious. “If I hear so much as a murmur about you speaking ill of her, or any other young woman, come to that … we’ll come back and finish the job.”

  “Aye, an’ with pleasure,” Joe added, and Ben looked up to see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “And you won’t even see it coming.”

  Chapter 22

  “Wherein our heroine has lost all hope, but our hero finds a straw to cling to.”

  They let Redmond go, watching as he ran gibbering and crying down the alley.

  “Little bastard deserved a sight more,” Joe observed, his tone dark with the desire to follow him.

  Ben nodded, watching Joe with trepidation. “I don’t disagree,” he replied, hoping he’d not see something he didn’t like in the papers in the following days. “However, I believe he’s been taught a valuable lesson tonight.”

  Joe snorted, and to Ben’s relief, followed him as he turned back to walk down the alley, in the opposite direction to which Redmond had run off.

  “Aye, p’rhaps,” Joe said, his tone grudging. “He’ll be feeling that right hook of your’n for a good few weeks.” He gave a low whistle, shaking his head and grinning. “Never took you for a bruiser, but you looked like you knew what you was about. You fight in the ring?”

  Ben nodded, amused by Joe’s praise. “On occasion, yes.”

  “Maybe we could ‘ave a turn up some time?” he asked, sounding as though he’d love the opportunity.

  Joe laughed as Ben looked around at him in alarm. “Jus’ a friendly bout,” he said, raising a hand in a peaceful gesture. “Mind, I was all for darkening your daylights after you left like you did.”

  “What do you mean, after I left?” Ben demanded, stung at the implication he’d been at all ill-mannered or unkind in his treatment of Dinah.

  Joe shrugged, stuffing his fists in his pockets. “You didn’t turn up for days and my Dinah was sitting there lookin’ like her ‘eart were broke.” He glowered and gave Ben an unloving look. “I wanted your ‘ead on a platter for that,” he said, his tone of voice making Ben stop in his tracks. “But then she tol’ me you was just tryin’ to make it easier on ‘er. No messy goodbyes or whatnot, I suppose she meant.” Ben stared at him in
confusion as Joe looked equally perplexed. “Well, I dunno ‘bout that. If I’m honest, I’d ‘oped that maybe …”

  Ben wanted to shake him as the man trailed off. “You’d hoped what?” he demanded, his heart beating too hard, wondering at the fact that Dinah had at least appeared broken-hearted.

  Joe glanced back at him and then shook his head. “Nought. Forget I said it.” He carried on walking, forcing Ben to hurry after him.

  “Do you mean to say that she … that she …” Ben cursed and yanked on Joe’s arm, forcing him to stop and turn. “Did she …” he began, wondering what the devil it was that he wanted to say.

  Joe frowned, giving him a curious look, a speculative glint in his eyes.

  “Did she what?” he asked, and Ben felt like the man’s dark gaze was burrowing into his brain, trying to search for something that made an anxious sensation bloom in his chest.

  Ben found the words wouldn’t come. He wanted so desperately to know and yet he felt he’d already been humiliated on all sides; to look so vulnerable in front of Joe, of all people, it was too much to bear.

  “Let me ask you this,” Joe said, taking a step closer, a rather ominous look in his eyes now that put Ben on his guard. “Did she mean so little you could jus’ go back to it, to your wenchin’ and whorin’?”

  “What?” Ben replied, feeling as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He watched as Joe snorted, shaking his head with a rather disgusted look on his face.

  “We do read the scandal rags, same as everyone else,” Joe replied. He stared at Ben for a long moment before turning and walking away from him.

  “There’s been no one else.” Ben wasn’t entirely sure why he said it, he’d lost enough self-esteem in the past few months to last him a life-time, but the words were blurted out in a rush, and Joe stopped.

  “Pull the other one,” he replied, his tone savage.

  “It’s true,” Ben snapped, indignant now. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed, laughing, a bitter sound that echoed around the dark streets. “God help me, I wish it wasn’t, but it is.”

  Joe frowned at him and walked closer. “Why?” he demanded, his expression intent now.

  Ben shrugged and held out his hands. “I don’t know,” he began, the words helpless.

  “Not good enough,” Joe replied, terse now as he turned away.

  “I miss her, Joe.”

  Joe paused again but didn’t look back at him. “Oh, aye? Enough to take her as your mistress, I suppose?”

  Anger and longing and jealousy and a churlish desire to lash out for suffering all of them made Ben suddenly furious. “Well I’m likely too late now. I imagine she’s had many a better offer. Tell me, what exactly did Sherringham give her besides that bloody ring?”

  The blow snapped his head back and Ben could taste blood in his mouth. Joe’s eyes were glittering, dark and menacing and all Ben could feel was relief. He spat blood onto the floor and raised his fists, and Joe moved closer.

  ***

  “Good God!” Dinah exclaimed the next morning as she walked into the kitchen. “What on earth … Don’t tell me that young fool got the better of you?”

  Joe returned a look of quiet outrage as best he could, bearing in mind one eye was a glorious shade of purple and swollen shut.

  “Don’t be bleedin’ ridiculous,” he said with dignity, pressing a thick slice of meat back against his eye and taking a sharp intake of breath.

  Dinah sat herself down at the table and stared at him in horror. “Then what on earth happened?” she demanded, having never seen Joe in such a state. “You’re black and blue!” His knuckles were bloody and swollen, as was his lip, and there was even bruising visible beneath his beard. Heaven alone knew what the rest of him looked like.

  “You should’a seen the other bugger,” Joe muttered, his tone dark as he avoided her gaze.

  “Miss Osborne, I was just wondering …” This last was followed by a shriek that seared Dinah’s tired brain, and she winced. Looking around, she saw her new maid and companion staring at Joe with horror, one pale hand covering her heart. Miss Mary Huxley was a good sort, an excellent maid, and a woman with a kind heart. She’d been more than grateful for her position as she was in her late forties, with no family and little money, and she regarded Dinah as something like her saviour. That she had been gently raised and had little experience of what Dinah had seen in life was obvious, however. Joe scared her to death. The poor man had done everything possible to be polite and as far from threatening as he could be, but Mary only had to look at him to appear like she was about to swoon.

  “Oh, Mary,” Dinah said, getting to her feet and casting Joe a look of exasperation. “Joe had a little … accident last night. He’s quite alright, I assure you, but perhaps you could wait for me in my room. I’ll be up momentarily.”

  Mary dipped a curtsey and cast Joe one last wide-eyed look of awe, before hurrying away.

  “Who was it?” Dinah demanded, getting back to the crux of the matter. “And what was it about?” She had well known of Joe’s increasing displeasure with her way of life at late and wouldn’t put it past him to set upon one of the many men vying for her attention. That not all of them made the most respectable of offers was something Joe was getting ever more furious about.

  “Don’t matter,” Joe said, giving her a look that made her frown. “Nought to do wiv you.”

  Dinah sighed, folding her arms. She didn’t believe a word, but she knew he’d say no more, so she might as well save her breath.

  “’Ow long is this gonna go on, little D?” Joe said, his tone low now.

  “What?” Dinah asked, all innocence as she got to her feet to avoid his searching gaze. She knew what he was asking well enough, but she didn’t have an answer.

  “You’ve created a name for yourself, made yourself all the kick. Fashionable an’ scandalous all at once,” he said, sitting back and putting the meat down, folding his massive arms. Dinah didn’t look around at him, though from the corner of her eye she could see the displeasure in his stance, his eyes boring a hole in her head. “That what you wanted?”

  Dinah busied herself with pouring a cup of tea, wishing she could take more pleasure in the quality. Joe hated the good stuff, saying in made his guts turn, and so persisted in using the cheap stuff he’d always drunk. They’d spent money on the house, too, having repairs done and the rooms decorated. It was now a quietly elegant place with every comfort you could wish for. There was nothing extravagant or ostentatious, but the quality shone through. The larder was full, the shelves stacked with books, and there was fuel enough to have a fire burning in every room every moment of the day and night, if they so desired. She had everything she’d hoped for. She could have had far more. There was money enough for a far larger, grander house, for carriages and jewels and every luxury she could desire, but Dinah found little pleasure in what she had, so there seemed no point at all in spending out on more.

  As ever, she was neither fish nor fowl, belonging nowhere, and to no one.

  “Well?” Joe persisted as Dinah cut herself a slice of plum cake.

  Was that what she wanted? Dinah considered the question, wishing she had an answer. She’d been asking herself the same thing for weeks with no clearer idea of what it was she was doing. Dinah had never wanted to insinuate herself into the ranks of the ton, had never wanted celebrity or to be the centre of attention. She had certainly never wanted to create such a stir as she had. So why had she done it? Why did she persist in doing it still? She had turned down increasingly staggering offers as men tried to tempt her into their beds. The duke of Sherringham had been especially persistent. He was handsome and charming, and she suspected she could have enjoyed the life he’d promised her, if her heart hadn’t longed for something else, something far simpler and less glamorous. It was also something entirely out of her reach, so she ought to stop pining for something she could never have and just accept the man. At least if she did, she wouldn’t feel like
a juicy bone, dangling over the jaws of a slavering wolf pack.

  She was tired and depressed and lonely, but every time she saw Ben’s name in the papers once more, which had become only too regular, it drove her to carry on. It was really rather sad and pathetic, but there you were. She was jealous. If she’d hoped her behaviour would have him running back to her and throwing himself at her feet, she’d been sadly mistaken.

  “Dinah,” Joe growled, leaning forward over the table now as she tried to ignore him and eat her breakfast. “I said …”

  “I know what you said!” she exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the table top so hard her palm stung with the force of it. “And I don’t know! I don’t know!”

  The words were full of rage and frustration and hurt, and Joe’s face softened.

  “Don’t go out gambling tonight, little D. Go to that party you was invited to.”

  Dinah snorted, breaking the cake into little bite-sized pieces, though her appetite had fled. “What’s the point?”

  “You might meet someone half decent, that’s the point,” Joe said, his voice impatient now.

  Dinah looked up at him, wondering when he would understand. No decent, respectable man would ever want her. The kind she attracted would either never offer marriage, or if they did, it was because they wanted her fortune. Worse still, even if that wasn’t the case, she simply wasn’t interested. Yet there was such sorrow and despair in Joe’s eyes that she didn’t want to make it worse.

  “Fine,” she muttered, well knowing she could still find a card game if she wanted to. At least then she felt in her element. She could play fair or she could cheat and make all of those powerful men dance to her tune as she took fortunes from their hands without so much as a flicker of remorse. It made her feel something at least, a little less out of control, perhaps. As an bonus, this party was so grand that Joe would not be able to escort her, and though poor Mary would be shocked to her bones, that at least was a relief.