Romney Marsh Trilogy: A Gentleman by Any Other Name / The Dangerous Debutante / Beware of Virtuous Women. Kasey Michaels
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Romney Marsh Trilogy: A Gentleman by Any Other Name / The Dangerous Debutante / Beware of Virtuous Women - Kasey Michaels страница 40
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AFTER JULIA HAD GONE upstairs to change, Chance ran Courtland to ground in Ainsley’s study, the pair of them sitting silently, looking through the windows toward the calm waters of the Channel.
“You’re a cheery twosome,” Chance said, going to the drinks table to pour himself a glass of wine. “Don’t tell me Spence cocked up his toes. It was only a nick.”
“Spence is fine, threatening Odette with mayhem if she insists on keeping him in bed. We were just considering what to do next, if you must know,” Courtland said, picking up his own glass from the table beside his chair. “Lieutenant Diamond didn’t exactly arrive here the bearer of good news.”
“No, he didn’t,” Chance said, nodding to Ainsley, who sat behind his desk, before taking up a seat of his own. He rather sprawled on the maroon leather couch, then pushed his hair out of his eyes. He had a black grosgrain ribbon in his pocket and could tie his hair back, out of his way, but was rather enjoying the casual dress of Becket Hall, and the devil with starched collars and choking neck cloths and the rest. He had even begun to look back fondly on the days when, as a boy, he’d run barefoot through the warm sand. Memories he’d for so long tried to squelch. Perhaps Julia was right, and he was foolish. And not quite paying attention, which was never good.
“I wonder,” Ainsley said. “Is Red Men Gang the name they’ve given themselves or simply what the locals call them because of these sashes they wear?”
“Does it matter?”
Chance sighed, stretched his legs out in front of him to frown at his sandy boots. “Yes, Court, it does. Are we dealing with a ragtag crew of fairly disjointed individuals or are there brains somewhere and not merely brawn? The better we know the enemy, the easier it will be to plan how to deal with them.”
Courtland bowed his head to his brother, grudgingly conceding the point. “Whatever the case, according to the lieutenant, this gang seems to be popping up everywhere up and down the coast all at the same time, more than twenty miles each direction, which is barely credible.”
“I don’t claim to be too familiar with the residents of this area,” Chance said, “but I think we can be fairly sure that the leaders of the various small gangs would have several reasons not to share their power or mingle their hauls.”
“Very true, Chance. There can be only one real leader to make the decisions. They’d be fighting among themselves before long, unable to agree who should be in charge,” Ainsley said, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the desktop.
“Tearing each other apart like dogs the moment a single discrepancy showed up in the size of the loads,” Courtland agreed, nodding his head. “Good men, for the most part, but definitely leery of strangers, and we all know that around here a stranger is anyone not from your own village.”
“Then we’re agreed that we’re dealing with a large, well-controlled, strongly led and generously financed organization. Someone in London has to be in charge overall, possibly a cartel formed of both businessmen and the men who do the real work. Yes, even members of the ton, who wouldn’t get their own hands dirty but who forward the money to bring goods across the Channel, then reap the lion’s share of the rewards back in London when those goods sell for five or ten times their worth. Well-financed, well-organized, well-armed. Ruthless enough to set a few examples, like Pike, so that all the local gangs knuckle under and join them.”
“You’ve really put considerable thought into this, haven’t you?” Chance asked. “I agree they’re ruthless. Killing Pike and the men with him—and now that boy I found on the Marsh—all to send the message that they’re in charge. Have there been any other deaths?”
Ainsley nodded. “A few, Court tells me, but even a few is too many. There hasn’t been so much bloodletting between gangs since the days of the Deal Boatmen. And the Hawkhurst Gang, of course. The legends might live on, but the worst gangs have been gone for more than fifty years, with the gangs working each in their own territory. There are rules—unwritten yes, but rules. The centuries have taught that everyone can coexist along the English coasts unless any one gang attempts to become too powerful.”
“Which has become more and more the case over the past few months, according to Diamond,” Courtland said as he got to his feet, began to pace.
Ainsley rhythmically rapped his fingers against the desktop, a sure sign that his mind was fully engaged. “Starting with Pike’s senseless murder and this attempt to take over the local smugglers, frighten them to either disband and starve or work for the Red Men Gang for a pittance. It’s all so familiar, boys, isn’t it? Places change, the times change, but not much else. Certainly not people.”
“And now we’ve stirred the pot by inflicting a few casualties on the other side,” Chance pointed out, “thanks to the Black Ghost taking his revenge. We disposed of the bodies, but the good lieutenant is bound to hear about last night’s adventure before long. Pity I don’t think he’s the sort who’d take a bribe to look the other way.”
Courtland whirled on his brother. “What would you have had me do? It was only through Pike’s widow that I could even find out how to contact the smugglers, let alone convince them I only wanted to guard them, not take a slice of their pie. And I needed a disguise, so not to bring holy hell down on us here at Becket Hall—”
“Ah, yes. The cape. Very impressive.”
“Yes, damn it, Chance, it is, and I needed to make an impression. I wanted my revenge for Pike. We all did. We’ve lived here without incident for a long time, and a man like Pike should have died in his bed, not be brutally murdered. These are our people, they’ve accepted us without questions, and we have a duty to keep them safe. I just didn’t think we’d end up riding out again and again.”
Chance hazarded a look at Ainsley, who was now sitting back once more, his hands steepled just beneath his chin. Chance wasn’t sure if the man was amused, contemplating mayhem or simply content to listen. “But you didn’t tell Ainsley. If you were so sure what you were doing was right, Court, why didn’t you tell him?”
“We’ve already been over that ground, Court and I,” Ainsley said calmly. “The matter is settled between us.”
Chance got to his feet. “So I’m no longer included in the family? Is that it? I was good enough to ride out with him last night.”
Courtland turned on his brother. “You can’t stand it that I’m in charge now, can you?”
“On the contrary, brother mine,” Chance said, looking straight into Courtland’s eyes. “I can’t stand that you made such a bloody mess of things.”
Courtland took a step in his brother’s direction. “At least I didn’t cut and run, turn my back like some judgmental bastard. You probably would have let Pike go un-avenged. All we’ve seen is the back of you for most of the past thirteen years. What makes you think you can simply stroll back here and take over?”
Chance felt his hands tighten into fists and purposefully relaxed his fingers. “Nothing,” he said, mastering his anger, refusing to contemplate whether Courtland was calling him disinterested, a coward or both. “Nothing makes me think I can come back here and take over. You’re a man grown now, Court, and you stayed. I may