Eight for Losing, One for Loving (Wicked Sons #9)

Chapter 9

Dear Cousin Felix,

I was wondering if you would have a word with Leo for me. I always thought he was a great gun, but he’s being dreadfully unreasonable and won’t let me join The Sons of Hades. I’m seven and ten years of age now, and no longer a child. Could you put in a word for me? Really, it is dreadfully unfair to treat me like a schoolboy when he’s always been the one getting into such scrapes.

I’d be much obliged if you could make him see sense.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Lord Harry Adolphus (younger son of Their Graces, Robert and Prunella Adolphus, The Duke and Duchess of Bedwin) to Mr Felix Knight (son of Mr Gabriel and Lady Helena Knight)

24 th June 1850, Mud Pightle, Wrestlingworth, the Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire border.

The vicar took Leo up in his ancient dog cart, a small but sturdy pony trotting determinedly around the darkened lanes by the light of the carriage lamp that Leo held up. He was glad the vicar had suggested it, for Leo would not have enjoyed taking his tilbury and an unfamiliar horse around the tight bends on roads he didn’t know in near darkness.

When they were almost in sight of the house, the vicar pulled the cart off the road and tied the pony, gesturing for Leo to follow him. As they grew closer to a building that looked more like a shack than a house, the reverend extinguished the light and Leo blinked in the sudden darkness until his eyes grew accustomed.

“He’s still there,” Harbottle murmured in satisfaction, nodding to the empty curricle. “Must have put the horses away. Reckon he’s staying the night, then.”

Leo nodded, frowning as he wondered how best to go about this. He could hardly get Harbottle involved for fear the old fellow would be hurt.

“Thank you, sir, for guiding me here, but there’s no need to stay. I’m afraid I’ve kept you from your bed for long enough,” he said quietly.

“Oh, want all the fun yourself, do you?” the fellow replied, sounding quite indignant. “I may not be in my prime, Mr Huntington, but I am not dead yet.”

“I can see that, Reverend, but all the same—”

“I boxed a little in my youth,” Harbottle went on. “I had quite a nifty right hook, if I do say so myself.”

Leo looked at him sceptically, for the reverend looked built more for comfort than speed these days. “Reverend, I cannot in all conscience allow you—”

“You’re allowing nothing, young man,” Harbottle said with a snort, and before Leo could protest, he got to his feet and began creeping towards the building.

Cursing under his breath, Leo followed. Mud Pightle seemed aptly named and he could only be thankful that there had been no rain for the past weeks. As it was, deep ruts had dried in the soil, making walking across it a difficult endeavour in the dark. As they grew closer to the house, which seemed to be a haphazard assemblage of planks that stayed in place through more luck than judgement, dim light filtered through the filthy windows.

Leo froze, grabbing the vicar and hauling him flat against the side of the building as the creak of a door sounded.

“What on ear—”

Leo clapped his hand over the man’s mouth before he could give them away.

“’Ere, Edgar, what was that?” demanded an anxious voice from around the side of the building.

“What was what? Bloody ’ell, Burt! You’re afraid of your own shadow, you are. There’s nowt out there but a fox.”

“Didn’t sound like no fox to me,” Burt said sulkily.

“Just get out there and feed that blasted hell cat.”

“I don’t see why I have to go, just because he scratched you up so good and—”

“Burt!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” The door slammed shut and Burt stalked across the field, holding a lamp aloft and muttering under his breath as he headed towards a small shed that looked even more dilapidated than the house.

“You have ruined all my careful plans,” said another voice from inside the building before Leo could decide to follow. It was by no means an educated accent, but he recognised the style of speaking as someone trying to mimic an upper-class accent. “I am a busy man, Edgar, and you have wasted a good deal of my time. I believe we need to have a little chat. It was a simple enough task I set, and you and your fool brother had to ruin it.”

“It weren’t our fault. How was we to know the fellow would chase us halfway across the country? We was only supposed to take the damned cat and bring him to you, but that weren’t possible with the devil snapping at our heels. Cost us train fair, it did and bleedin’ expensive that were too.” Edgar’s voice was indignant, a belligerent tone that carried clearly. The next man spoke more quietly, and Leo strained to hear the words.

“Nonetheless, your failure to lose him, and then the decision to abandon the hackney carriage I lent you, has caused me a good deal of trouble, not to mention expense. You may rest assured that expense will be taken from your share of the ransom.”

“Bleedin’ ’ell, we weren’t getting much of a look in as it was, when we was takin’ all the risk and—”

“And do you wish to argue with me, Edgar?” the voice was harder now, a dangerous edge to it.

Edgar fell silent.

The vicar shook Leo’s arm, and he belatedly remembered he was half smothering the fellow. He removed his hand, and Harbottle gave a quiet crow of triumph.

“I told you!” he whispered. “Didn’t I tell you?”

Leo nodded. “You did, sir, and I thank you,” he said, wondering what to do. If he went in and dealt with the remaining two men and took them unawares, his odds might be better, but Burt could still escape with Mau. No, better to deal with Burt first and get Mau. He’d send the vicar back to the inn with him whilst he dealt with the other two villains.

“Stay here,” he told the vicar. “I’ll deal with Burt first and get Mau.”

To his relief, the vicar nodded his agreement with no argument, so Leo set off in the direction Burt had taken.

There were no windows in the shed, and no openings other than the door Burt had gone through, but it was ill fitting and Leo looked through the gap. Burt stood looking at a metal cage, holding out what looked like a strip of rind from a slice of ham. He dangled it through the thin bars of the cage and dropped it in.

Leo’s eyes settled on Mau with a rush of relief, seeing his feline friend look as hale and hearty as always, if not as content. Mau’s tail gave a twitch that Leo knew well boded ill, and he stared at the piece of rind in disgust. His yellow eyes lifted to Burt, such a look of contempt burning there that Leo almost laughed.

“Well, it’s all you're getting,” Burt said, sounding nervous all the same. “So eat it or don’t. You can starve if you prefer.”

Mau hissed, and Burt yelped, taking a hasty step back.

“Well, it ain’t my fault,” Burt protested. “Weren’t my idea to take you. Worst thing we ever done, if you ask me. I told Edgar it were a mistake, but he don’t listen to me.”

A low growl came from the cage, and Burt turned hurriedly to the door. “Ain’t natural,” he said, clearly shaken as he pulled it open. His face was a picture as he saw Leo standing there, and for a moment his mouth opened and closed like a fish. Leo grabbed him by the throat, covered his mouth with his free hand, and marched him back into the hut, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Good evening, Burt,” he said conversationally. “I’m afraid you have got yourself into a bit of trouble. Mau there is a dear friend of mine, you see, and I want him back.”

Burt made a strangled sound, but Leo was not yet ready to let him speak.

“If you are sensible and don’t make a fuss, I’ll tie you up nice and tight and there will be no need to cause you any er… harm,” he said, giving the fellow an insincere smile that suggested he was very willing to cause him harm if he decided to give making a fuss a go. “Then you can tell your brother you fought back as hard as you like, if you can make him believe that.”

Burt made muffled squeaking noises, his eyes growing wide.

Leo tightened his grip. “Are you going to behave, Burt, old man?”

Burt nodded vigorously.

Leo narrowed his eyes. “Don’t try my patience. You’ll get one chance.”

Burt nodded again and Leo removed his hand from the fellow’s mouth.

“Don’t ’urt me, sir! It weren’t my idea, I swear it. It were all Edgar’s doing, ’im and that bleedin’ snooty arseh—” Burt exclaimed the moment he could speak.

“Shut your mouth,” Leo growled at him. “Sit down there,” he added, pointing at the floor. Burt scrambled to comply, dropping to the dirt floor, and Leo looked around the shed, spying some coarse lengths of thin rope in a tangle in the corner. Snatching it up, he freed enough from the knot to secure Burt’s ankles and wrists before untying the kerchief around the man’s neck and using it as a gag. Only then did he turn back to Mau, opening the cage.

“All right, Mau?” he asked anxiously, praying there was no damage he could not see.

Mau stalked out of the cage, sent Burt a derisive glare, and then looked up at Leo.

“Miaow!”

As complaints went, it was eloquent, and Leo swept his cat up, hugging him tightly.

“I know, old man, I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Chicken for dinner every night for a month, how’s that?”

Mau made a grumbling sound but licked Leo’s ear so he hoped he might be forgiven in time. Leo glanced at Burt to see his expression was one of horror behind the gag. He snorted. Poor Burt seemed to think Mau really was the devil’s work. Perhaps he believed he was Leo’s familiar. Setting Mau down on the floor, Leo turned back to the door.

“Right, Mau, we need to get out of here. Ready?”

Yellow eyes blinked at him in the lamplight, Mau’s tail swishing expectantly.

Leo nodded. “Come along, then.”

Leo extinguished the lamp, opened the door, and fastened it shut behind him before running back to where the vicar was waiting for him. Except he wasn’t.

Leo looked around and cursed, wondering what the man was up to. He groaned inwardly as he heard voices from inside.

“Well, Reverend, what was you up to, sneaking about in the dark?”

Edgar’s voice, Leo thought, hearing a tone similar to Burt’s. Damn and blast . Why could the old fellow not just have kept still?

“Night Hoopooloos,” the reverend replied placidly.

“Night whatapooloos?” Edgar repeated, baffled.

Leo listened, intrigued, as he wondered if the vicar had been as entirely taken in by their Egyptian Water Sphinx as they had believed.

“Hoopooloos,” the vicar repeated. “A very rare bird, only sings at night and is almost never seen in this part of the world. Hails from Africa. A glorious thing, bright green and red, but the song… ah, the song is not to be missed. I tracked one all along the lane but lost it when I got close to your house. I think something frightened it. Such a shame. If I could prove it was here it would be quite a feather in my ornithological cap, if you will excuse the pun.”

Leo shook his head. He had to hand it to Harbottle, he was cool under pressure.

“Well, there ain’t no rare birds here,” Edgar said firmly. “So I reckon I’ll just be escorting you home.”

“You may get Burt to do that,” the faux upper-class voice cut in once more.

“Oh, no need to provide an escort,” Harbottle said at once. “I’m quite capable of finding my own way—”

“Burt will escort you,” the man said, his voice firm. “One wouldn’t want you getting yourself lost or falling into a ditch. You might hurt yourself.”

There was nothing resembling concern in the words, but the hint of menace was unmistakeable.

“Oh, well, if you insist,” the vicar replied cheerfully, apparently not taking the fellow’s meaning. “If we’re lucky, we might hear the Hoopooloo again.”

Leo shook his head. He wouldn’t have long, but if he dealt with the man behind this scheme first while Edgar was finding Burt, he thought he could deal with the Hatt brothers without too much difficulty. The man coordinating this little scheme was clearly the dangerous one, and he needed to be taken out of the picture first.

Leo looked down at Mau, who had been winding himself in and out of Leo’s ankles, purring contentedly.

“Stay here, Mau,” he said quietly. “And if any of those men get near you again, run.”

Mau gave him an affection nip on the calf through the fabric of his trousers, and Leo smiled before turning his attention back to the building. The door creaked open and swung shut and Leo watched Edgar cross the yard to the shed. Once he was out of sight, Leo ran around to the front door and kicked it open.

Harbottle jumped in his seat, and Leo looked from him to the man in the centre of the room, leaning against an ancient table. He pushed to his feet upon seeing Leo, his posture one that left Leo in no doubt there would be the turn-up the vicar had been hoping for.

“I know you,” Leo said, frowning as he regarded the man. “Where do I know you from?”

“I couldn’t say, Mr Hunt, and I doubt you’d remember in any case,” the fellow replied with a sneer. “But it was good of you to come calling.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Leo replied with a snort as the man gave him a considering look up and down. Where the hell had he seen him before? Leo wracked his brain but came up empty.

“You know, Mr Hunt. It occurs to me the ransom we can get for you will be a good deal fatter than the one I was going to ask for your cat. If you had only acted with a bit of sense, you’d have had your wretched pet back and I would have gained a couple of hundred quid you could easily do without. Where’s the harm in that? But I see now I was thinking too small. That amount of money won’t see me comfortably through all my days, now will it? But when I had the notion of ransoming the horrid creature, I had no idea his master would fall into my hands like a ripe plum.”

Leo returned a grim smile. “Don’t count your chickens, sir. I’m in no mood to be held hostage.”

The man removed a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at Leo. “Is that so?” he asked with a grin.