Valentine's Vow (Avenging Lords 3)

“Even so, a man would have to think long and hard before attaching himself to a lady who acts so impulsively. Miss Kendall is a little wild and far too unconventional.” She was exciting and bewitching, too. He grew hard listening to her intelligent conversation. And her hot mouth made him forget the past ever existed.

“Then I can hardly wait to meet her.”

The queue to enter the small brick building, home to the dog-fighting arena known as the Westminster Pit, stretched half the length of Duck Lane. With the absence of gaslights, the narrow lane lay in darkness. A sea of shadows moved and swayed as each man in turn either gained or was refused entrance.

A single lantern hung over the shabby wooden doors where two men, whose necks were as wide as their heads, took receipt of the ten shillings entrance fee.

“For the same price I could purchase a ticket to Almack’s,” Valentine muttered to Drake as they joined the queue. “Though at least here a man has no need to worry about manners or etiquette.”

“The crowd is renowned for being boisterous.”

“At Almack’s?”

Drake snorted in amusement. “Well, an argument over a place on a dance card can be a rather gruesome affair. I heard it was carnage when someone added brandy to the ratafia.”

“No doubt it will be carnage in the Pit tonight.” Valentine estimated there must be fifty men waiting in line and the arena held two hundred at most. “Every light-fingered cove in the district will look to gain entrance.”

“When one stands amongst thieves and gamblers, there is always a fight.” Drake sounded almost pleased at the prospect.

“Speaking of fights.” Valentine lowered his voice. “Have you any news from Lockhart? Dariell went to join him after the duel, and I’ve not heard a word since.”

Drake nodded. “Our friend is still in hiding. Dariell has found an actress to play the role of Lockhart’s wife.”

“Does she realise what is involved? Does she know she is risking her life? Proving one is innocent of murder is no easy feat.”

They shuffled along a few paces.

“With Dariell’s level of perception and insight, I am sure he will choose a lady more than capable of the job.”

“Then I shall be ready to support them in any way I can.” The pact they had made—Greystone, Drake, Valentine and Lockhart—bound them together. The bond went beyond an offer of assistance. Valentine would risk his life to save his friends.

“As will I.” A weary sigh breezed from Drake’s lips. “If the plan should go wrong, Lockhart might find himself swinging from the gallows.”

“Dariell would not encourage Lockhart to act were he not assured of success.”

A sudden commotion at the front of the queue captured their attention. A group of drunken ne’er-do-wells who clearly lacked the funds to pay the entrance fee let alone gamble away a fortune were trying to push past the giants on guard duty.

A high-pitched screech preceded gasps and cries. The group scattered, held on to their top hats as they took flight and scampered along Duck Lane. The thought that Miss Kendall had made it past the thugs on watch was like an icy hand squeezing Valentine’s heart.

“From what I can tell, the guard with the squashed face drew a blade from a swordstick and swiped the tip over one man’s face,” Drake said, having the advantage of being a head taller than most men. “It serves our purpose. They’ve chased at least ten men out of the queue.”

Indeed, another minute or so and Valentine found himself paying the fee.

One look at Devlin Drake and the rogue on the door said, “There’ll be no trouble tonight.”

Drake inclined his head. “I come merely to watch the gruesome spectacle.”

Another brutish guard ushered them through a narrow hall into a red-bricked room no more than twenty feet square. In the centre stood a wooden platform with aisles around all sides—space for the owners to mentor their savage pets. Spectators were squashed into the gallery above, more crammed behind a low wall on the ground floor separating them from the vicious animals waiting to tear each other apart. From a glance, most were from the upper echelons, men with more than a few sovereigns to spare. Or maybe not in Jonathan Kendall’s case.

“Do you not find the whole scene somewhat barbaric?” Valentine asked.

“Barbaric?”

“The room is packed with men waiting to watch two dogs fight to the death.”

“And one woman,” Drake said as they barged their way into the lower gallery. “You suspect Miss Kendall is somewhere amongst the crowd. How the hell do you hope to find her?”