Then Came You (The Gamblers of Craven's 1)

She tried to stifle the agonized sounds that seemed to be ripped from her throat, but the convulsive sobs wouldn’t stop. “Easy,” he murmured in her hair, stroking her trembling body as she gave in to her shattering grief. “I understand now,” he continued hoarsely, his own eyes stinging. “I understand everything.” He would have willingly given his life to spare her such suffering. He kissed her hair, her wet face, the small hands that clung to his shoulders. Wishing fiercely that he could draw her pain into his own body, he held her hard against his sheltering strength. Finally she wilted against him, her tears abating. “We’ll find out what happened to her,” he said roughly. “We’ll get her back, no matter what it takes. I swear it.”

“You should hate me,” she said brokenly. “You should leave me—”

“Hush.” His grip tightened, just short of bruising her. “Do you think so little of me? Damn you.” He crushed his lips in her hair. “You don’t understand anything about me. Did you think I wouldn’t want to help you? That I would abandon you if I knew?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Damn you,” he repeated, his voice choked with anger and love. He forced her face upward. The hopelessness in her eyes caused a cold pressure to squeeze around his heart.

Alex summoned a servant to show him a way they could discreetly leave the house without being witnessed by the guests. He bid the same servant to give a message to Lady Lyon that Lily was ill with a headache and had left the ball precipitately. Leaving Lily alone to rest for a moment, Alex took a quick, determined tour through the Lyon mansion, but wisely Giuseppe had taken his leave.

Lily was so drained that she was forced to lean on Alex as they left. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to their enclosed chariot, declining to give explanations to the surprised footmen. Once inside, he reached for her, but she warded him off gently, telling him in a queer voice that she was fine. They headed home at a rapid pace, while Alex struggled with overwhelming thoughts and emotions.

It devastated him to know what Lily had gone through. She had chosen to endure it alone, she had chosen to withdraw and build up defenses on that foundation of secrets, she had willingly chosen every moment of solitude…but knowing all that didn’t stop the grief he felt on her behalf. He couldn’t give her back the years. He couldn’t even be certain of giving her back Nicole, though he would move heaven and earth in the effort. Burning rage spread through him, as if it were seeping out from the marrow of his bones. He was angry at her, at Derek, at the damned useless detectives, at the Italian bastard who had caused such misery, and he was angry at himself.

Another part of him was terrified. Lily had sustained her hope for so long…if the source of it was taken away, if Nicole could not be returned to her, she would never be the same. The vibrant laughter and passion that he loved might vanish for good. He had seen people lose what they loved most, and the way it had changed them. His own father had become an empty shell of a man, longing for death because life had lost all power to entice him. Alex wanted to beg Lily to be strong, but he could see that she had no more strength left. Her face was pinched and tired and her eyes were dull.

They arrived in Swans’ Court and Alex escorted Lily to the front door. Burton greeted them with instant concern, staring at Lily questioningly. He looked at Alex. “You’ve returned early, my lord,” he remarked.

Alex didn’t have time to explain anything. He urged his wife forward. “Have her drink a glass of brandy,” he told Burton curtly. “Force it down her throat if necessary. Don’t let her go anywhere. Tell Mrs. Hodges to prepare her a bath. And have someone with her at every moment until I return. Every moment, do you understand?”

“You needn’t worry, my lord.”

Alex exchanged a glance with him and relaxed slightly, reassured by the butler’s calmness. It moved Alex, the realization that Burton, in his own quiet way, had done his best to take care of Lily during the nightmare of the past two years.

“Good God, there’s no need to carry on,” Lily said in a ghost of her usual pert voice, pushing past them into the house. “Make the brandy a double, Burton.” She paused to look back at her husband. “Where the devil are you going?”

The flicker of spirit she showed made Alex feel slightly better. “I’ll tell you when I return. I’ll be home soon.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Lily said wearily. “Nothing that Derek hasn’t already tried.”

In spite of all his sympathy and devotion, Alex found himself giving her a cool, caustic stare. “Apparently it hasn’t occurred to you,” he said pleasantly, “that I have influence in places where Craven doesn’t. Go have your brandy, darling.”

Annoyed by his condescension, Lily opened her mouth to reply, but he had already turned and gone down the steps. He paused at the last step and spoke to her once more. “Tell me the name of the man you hired.”

“Knox. Alton Knox.” She smiled bitterly. “A top-notch Learie officer. The best that money could buy.”

Sir Joshua Nathan had come to prominence as a chief magistrate of the city a few years before, when Alex had used his influence to sponsor and pass a bill creating several new public offices. The political battle had been vicious and bloody, facing opposition from a number of corrupt “trading justices” who were in the habit of altering sentences for gifts of money, women, and even liquor. It had taken Alex months of debating, making speeches, and asking for personal favors in order to push the bill through. Alex had done it not only because of his own belief that the bill was worthy, but because Nathan, a man of integrity and courage, had been a close friend from his school days.

Nathan’s name was always paired with that of Donald Learman, the fiery young magistrate who served at the Westminster office. The two of them shared the same unorthodox beliefs in the method of policing, considering it a “science” that needed to be reformed and improved. Together they had worked to train their officers as meticulously as military squadrons. At first they had been ridiculed by a society accustomed to only the meager protection of aging watchmen. Despite their lack of popularity, the results of their efforts had quickly become apparent, and other precincts were beginning to follow their lead. The members of Nathan and Learman’s crack foot patrols, known as “Learies,” were often privately hired by banks and wealthy citizens.

A lean, well-groomed man with an unassuming presence, Nathan greeted him with a calm, friendly smile. “Hello, Alex. A welcome face from the past.”

Alex reached out to clasp his hand. “I’m sorry to visit at such a late hour.”

“I’m quite accustomed to late hours. The nature of my work. As my wife observes, her only hope of seeing me is in the middle of the day.” Nathan led Alex to his library, and they sat in dark leather chairs. “Now,” he said quietly, “enough pleasantries. The sooner you tell me the problem, the sooner we may set things to rights.”

Alex described the situation as succinctly as possible. Nathan listened thoughtfully, occasionally interrupting with a question. The name of Gavazzi was not recognizable to him, but the mention of Alton Knox seemed to be extremely significant. When Alex concluded his monologue, the magistrate leaned back in his chair, forming a triangle with his thumbs and forefingers as he thought. “Child-stealing is a thriving business in London,” Nathan said cynically. “Attractive little boys and girls are a profitable commodity, efficiently harvested from shops and parks and sometimes right from the nursery. Often they’re sold to buyers in foreign markets. It’s a convenient business—easily dismantled at the first sign of trouble and just as easily resurrected when the scene is clear.”

“You think Gavazzi may be involved in such a scheme?”

“Yes, I’m certain he’s part of a rookery gang. From your description, he doesn’t seem the kind who could manage this on his own.”

The following silence seemed to spin out endlessly, until Alex couldn’t stand it anymore. “Dammit, what is it?”

Nathan smiled sardonically at his friend’s impatience, and then his thin face turned somber. “I’m considering some disquieting possibilities,” he finally said. “The man your wife hired, Mr. Knox, is the pride of Learman’s Westminster office. Lady Raiford was not at fault for believing him to be trustworthy.”

“Is he?” Alex asked tersely.

“I’m not certain.” Nathan gave a long sigh. “In the course of their duties, Alex, my officers become quite familiar with the underworld and its workings. Sometimes they are tempted to use this knowledge in evil ways…trading innocent lives in return for money, and therefore betraying every principle they are pledged to uphold. I’m afraid your wife and her daughter may have been victims of this devil’s bargain.” He frowned in disgust. “Knox has earned a large amount of ‘blood money’ this year, in the form of rewards for recovering stolen children. His unusual success leads me to suspect he could be in collusion with the criminals who are responsible for the abductions. Feeding them information, warning them when to change locations, helping them to avoid arrest. Knox may actually be partners with this Gavazzi.”

Alex’s jaw hardened. “What the hell are you going to do about it?”

“With your permission, I would like to set a trap, using Lady Raiford as our front.”

“As long as she won’t be exposed to danger.”

“No danger of any kind,” Nathan assured him.

“What about her daughter?” Alex asked tersely. “Will this help to find her?”

Nathan hesitated. “If we’re fortunate, it will lead to that.”

Alex rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. “Dammit,” he muttered. “That’s not much to take home to my wife.’

“It’s all I can offer,” came the quiet reply.

Chapter 13

“Mr. Knox was helping Giuseppe?” Lily demanded in outrage. “While he was working for me?”

Alex nodded, taking her hands in his. “Nathan suspects Giuseppe may be part of a rookery gang, and that Knox is in collusion with him. Recently Knox has been making a large amount of ‘blood money’ in addition to his regular salary.”

“Blood money?” Lily asked in confusion.

“Rewards given him by private citizens for finding and returning stolen children. Knox has collected rewards for resolving several such cases this year.”

Lily’s eyes widened with surprise and anger. “Then the gang abducts children…Mr. Knox returns them…and they all divide the reward money amongst themselves? Why has he returned everyone’s child except mine? Why not Nicole?”

“Giuseppe may have persuaded him that they’d make more by keeping Nicole and draining you of everything you had.”

Lily was still. “He was right,” she said numbly. “I handed over several fortunes to him. I gave him whatever he wanted.” She dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, God,” she muttered. “What a naive, blind fool I’ve been. I made it so damned easy for them.”

While she remained hunched over, his hand settled over her head, his long fingers sifting through her curls in an easy, repeated stroke. Until now she had winced away from his attempts to embrace her, but she allowed the soothing massage, the tense muscles in her neck loosening.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Alex said gently. “You were alone and frightened. They took advantage of that. It’s impossible to look at things objectively when you’re afraid for your child.”

Lily’s mind seemed to spin with questions. What did he think of her now that he knew all about her past?…Did he feel pity or censure?…Was he only being kind until he felt she was strong enough to face his rejection? She told herself that she couldn’t make a move toward him until she had the answers. She would rather die than force herself on him…but rational thought was becoming impossible with his fingers playing softly in her hair. A surge of need rose inside her, and she couldn’t stop herself from lifting her head with a quiet plea. She didn’t care if it was pity. She just wanted him to hold her.

“Sweetheart.” Alex gathered her into his lap, cradling her tenderly as she buried her face against his neck. He seemed to read her thoughts easily, as if she were a treasured volume he had paged through a thousand times. By telling her secrets, she had given him that power over her. “I love you,” he said against her temple, brushing back her hair with his fingertips.

“You can’t—”

“Quiet. Listen to me carefully, Wilhemina. Your mistakes, your past, your fears…none of it will change how I feel about you.”

She swallowed hard, trying to absorb the statement. “I-I don’t like that name,” she faltered.

“I know,” he said gently. “Because it reminds you of when you were a girl. Wilhemina is frightened and eager, wanting to be loved. And Lily is strong and brave, and would tell the world to go to hell if she wanted to.”

“Which do you prefer?” she whispered.

He nudged her chin upward, staring into he eyes. He smiled slightly. “All of you. Every part of you.”

Lily trembled at the assurance in his voice, but as he lowered his mouth to hers, she flinched. She wasn’t ready for sensual kisses or embraces…her inner wounds were raw…she needed time to heal. “Not yet,” she whispered pleadingly, afraid he would be angry at her refusal. Instead he gathered her close again, and she rested her head on his shoulder with a weary sigh.

It was ten o’clock in the morning. At the East End of London shops had been open since eight, the streets filled with the noise and bustle of vendors, wagons, fishermen, and milkmaids as they all went about their work. Here in the West End, the populace awakened in a far more leisurely fashion. Having arrived early at the corner of Hyde Park, Lily watched the world outside the carriage window. Milk women, chimney sweeps with their soot bags, newsmen, and bakery boys rang at the doors of fine homes, greeted by maidservants. Children walked along the streets with their nannies to take the morning air, while their parents would not stir from bed and partake of breakfast until early afternoon. In the distance was the drumbeat and music of the guards marching from their barracks toward Hyde Park.

Lily’s gaze sharpened as she saw a lone figure come to stand by a timber post next to the street corner. It was Alton Knox, garbed in the traditional Learie uniform—black breeches and boots and a gray coat studded with shiny brass buttons. A low-crowned hat topped his head. After taking a steadying breath, Lily leaned out the carriage window and beckoned with her handkerchief. “Mr. Knox,” she said in a low voice. “Over here. Please come to the carriage.”