Protecting Lady Esther (The King's League)

“Nothing else has been discovered about the cipher?” he asked in a low voice, as Lord Brandley shook his head. “The book?”

Lord Brandley smiled tightly. “Lord Riggerton has been working tirelessly to make some copies of various pages,” he said firmly. “The book is to be moved tomorrow.”

“And where is it to go?”

Lord Brandley’s smile spread. “I am to take it for a time,” he said, making Charles nod in agreement, relieved to know that one of the League’s most established gentlemen would have such a precious item. “Only for a sennight or so, I think. Thereafter, I shall have it moved again.”

“And its whereabouts ought to be kept between the two of us,” Charles added, seeing Lord Brandley hesitate. “Save for the person to whom it is going, of course.” He spread his hands. “It is merely a precaution so that if there is any difficulty or trouble that overtakes any of our men, they will be unable to tell our enemies where the book is at present, for they will not know.”

Lord Brandley’s expression cleared. “Yes, I quite understand,” he said quickly. “Very good, Westbrook. I shall inform you at once when I have made arrangements for the book to be moved.”

Charles nodded, shook Lord Brandley’s hand, and made his way out of Whites, glad that his carriage was already waiting for him. Whilst he was in no mood to pretend to enjoy gambling and the like, he knew full well that this was where his responsibility lay at present. Whilst the sorrow and the grief over Sir Taylor’s death still lingered, Charles knew that he could not waste time lost in sadness. He had to continue with his intention to clear England of all manner of spies, French or otherwise, and he would begin by doing his best to curry favor with Lord Breton.

* * *

“I shall take a hackney home,” Charles informed his driver, who nodded with a faint smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Do not linger.”

“At once, my lord,” the driver said, as the tiger climbed back into position. “Do enjoy your evening, my lord.”

Charles

said nothing, waiting for the driver to disappear before he entered The Shrew. It was not one of the best gambling hells in London but neither was it the worst, and Charles did not have any fear for his safety, knowing full well he could protect himself should it be required. This was not the first time he would have been in a difficulty of that nature.

Hearing the drunken exclamations, the laughter, and the shouts coming from within The Shrew, Charles let out a long sigh, set his shoulders, and made to walk inside, only for the sound of a lady’s voice to reach his ears.

He stopped dead, turning around to see a woman climbing down from a hackney, her dark cloak shielding her although her form was still unmistakable, even in the dim lantern light. Frowning, he saw her speak to the hackney driver, who nodded and slumped back in his seat, clearly content to wait for her return.

A woman? Here, in this part of London? He could not understand what she was doing here, unless she was a lady of the night, in which case it made sense for her to be present here. But a lady of the night would not arrive in a hackney and certainly would not thereafter ask it to wait for her to return. So what was she doing here?

Stepping back into the shadows and grateful for the clouds that made their way past the moon, Charles watched as the young lady turned towards The Shrew. She wore no bonnet but had the hood of her cloak pulled up over her face. With careful fingers, she made certain that the hood remained firmly in place, before lifting her chin and stepping forward.

She is about to walk into The Shrew, Charles realized with amazement, seeing her purposeful steps and the solid direction of her gaze. She certainly cannot step inside alone!

“Excuse me.”

Before he knew what he was doing, Charles had stepped out from the gloom and directly into the young lady’s path, preventing her from reaching the door of The Shrew. The young lady gasped and took a step back in surprise, turning her face away at once.

“You cannot intend to go in there,” Charles found himself saying, as though he were gently berating an errant child. “That is not the place for the likes of you.”

“The likes of me?” The young lady swung back around to face him, her eyes lifting to his and seeming to bore into him. “I have a matter of the greatest urgency and will not be prevented from doing what I must!

Charles frowned, feeling as though there was something about this young lady that he recognized. He did not know what it was, could not quite say, and yet he felt as though he knew her.

“I cannot allow you to step inside, miss,” he said carefully, knowing that if he had to, he would ensure she was removed by force – albeit as gently as he could. “Do you know what will occur if you do such a foolish thing?” He looked behind her, wondering if she had someone – anyone – with her. “You have no companion?”

“No.” She lifted her chin, her determination more than a little apparent. “I do not need one.”

He shook his head, his eyes sliding back towards her again. “It is much too dangerous,” he said, as gently as he could. “I do not know your reasons for coming here, but I know that if you set foot inside, then you may very well have a good deal of difficulty leaving again.” Trying to press his meaning onto her with the greatest care, he saw her eyes narrowing. “The gentlemen within are drunk,” he said, thinking he would have to speak a little more clearly. “They are in high spirits and cannot easily tell one young lady from another. If you enter, then you might be considered as an entertainment, for those are usually the sorts of young women that enter into a gaming hell.” Something in her eyes flickered, and Charles forced himself to press on, his determination growing steadily. “I cannot protect you from them, for there would be more gentlemen desperate to get their hands on you than I would be able to manage.”

“I do not believe I have asked for your help,” came the terse reply. “You do not know me, sir.”

Pressing his brows together in exasperation, Charles tried to keep ahold of his temper. “Whatever it is that is troubling you so, it cannot be worth this,” he said, a little more firmly. “Do you seek your sweetheart? Do you wish to find him here so that you might berate him later? Is that what is troubling you?”

The young lady’s eyes flared, her anger burning straight through her and firing out towards him. “Indeed, it is not!” she exclaimed furiously. “I have no eagerness to share my intentions with a stranger, however, but I can assure you that it is nothing as simple as a mere broken heart!”

“Then pray tell me what it is so that I might help you,” Charles said, hearing a few voices getting louder as they came towards the door. Without thinking, he grasped the young lady’s arm and tugged her away from the door and further into the shadows, fearful that she might be spotted by one of the many patrons now removing themselves from the gambling hell.

“Remove your hand from me at once!” the young lady exclaimed, her voice echoing around the alley as he attempted to quieten her. “I do not need nor have I asked for your assistance!”