Page 27 of The Lady
The Tramp
After sendingButch to fetch Frank from the gaol, Henry went to collect Lord Verisy’s debts, thankful for his foresight on the matter. Part of him longed to hunt down Roddy and deal with him, but Delilah came first. Even above his own reputation.
If one hair on Delilah’s head had been harmed, well, he could not be held accountable for his actions. He would wreak havoc on Felton House and Bow Street alike. If Roddy was smart, he was already long gone. If he was not, there would be nothing stopping Henry from meting out harsh punishment for his part in Delilah’s capture. While he might not have been directly involved, he’d clearly heard of the missing debutante and put two and two together.
With ten of his men behind him, Henry stormed down the streets of Mayfair, not caring who saw him. Let this be a lesson to anyone who dared take what was his. There were not many people to witness at this early morning hour, mostly drunken nobles stumbling home after an evening of debauchery, but several came to an abrupt halt when they saw him and his men. Recognition flashed across most of their faces—and fear. They were scared he was there for them. Their abject relief when he passed them by would have been amusing under other circumstances.
Coming to the front door of Felton House, he banged the knocker loudly and kept banging until the door opened, and a harried servant stared at him. The man looked Henry up and down with an air of disbelief. Likely, no one dressed like him had ever dared pound on the door. Certainly not at nearly four in the morning. The servant’s gaze moved behind Henry, and his eyes widened at the sight of street toughs. He started to swing the door shut, but it was already too late.
Henry shouldered the door open with brute force, knocking the man back.
“Lady Felton.” Henry growled out her name. “Fetch her.Now.”
It turned out the order was unnecessary. Before the servant had reached the bottom of the grand staircase, the lady in question came sweeping down. Dressed in a flannel nightrail with a robe wrapped around her and a bonnet over her hair and braid, she acted as though she were dressed for an audience with the Regent.
“What on earth is happening? Who are you? Thomas, go fetch the Runners!”
Barking out a laugh, Henry crossed his arms in front of him and glared at the woman who had mistreated his pet. If she were not an old woman, he would have given her a sound thrashing. She certainly deserved it—but for one of her ilk, what he was about to do was likely worse.
“I am the Tramp.” He stepped forward with an air of menace that had her rocking back. The man who had opened the door actually squeaked, and Henry heard murmurs coming from further in the household. “I am the holder of your son’s wagering debts. And Lord Verisy isveryin debt.”
A flash of panic flared in her eyes, and she gulped before lifting her chin. Likely, she did not have an exact idea of how far up the River Tick, her son was, but she knew enough to be worried. The ton considered paying such debts a matter of honor. Knowledge that the man had squandered so much of the family fortune would make things very difficult for everyone, including the two young ladies she was trying to marry off. Henry considered it a barrel of foolishness, but he understood how thetonworked, even if he thought it ridiculous. Here, at least, it certainly worked to his advantage.
“How much?” Her tone was icy, imperious, and likely made many a man quake in his boots. Unfortunately for her, Henry was made of sterner stuff, untouched by her displeasure.
The total sum made her gasp, her hand going to her chest. Her eyes unfocused, likely doing calculations in her head, and the first glimmerings of despair began to take hold in her expression.
“Luckily,” Henry said, holding out the metaphorical olive branch before she lost all hope. “You have something I want. Something I would like returned to me rather, with a promise you will never attempt to take her again.”
Momentary confusion gave way to revelation, and then an icy judgment. She sniffed disdainfully.
“I should have known—”
Holding up one hand, Henry cut her off, his face like granite.
“If you are wise, of which I am not convinced you are, you will keep your trap shut about my lady.”
She wanted to say something, but she pursed her lips together as if she’d just sucked a lemon before shaking her head.
“I cannot. My nephew is her guardian, and he has a responsibility to see her wed.”
“She’ll be wed,” Henry growled, cutting her off. “You will be able to tell your nephew, with all sincerity, that she was wed to an extremely wealthy, albeit without a title, gentleman.”Calculation flashed in her eyes, and he held up the stack of notes, all with Lord Verisy’s signature on them. “Consider this your incentive.”Lady Felton held out her hand, but Henry just raised his eyebrow. “My lady first.”
Bristling at the implication she was untrustworthy, Lady Felton waved her hand at the man who opened the door.
“Thomas, go fetch Miss Darling from her room. The key is on the ring in my room.”
The man rushed away up the stairs, looking relieved to be sent away from the increasingly uncomfortable standoff.
Lady Felton glared at him. Henry ignored her, which seemed to aggravate her even more.
A clattering sound at the top of the stairs drew both of their attention, but it was not who Henry wished to see, and Lady Felton did not appear happy with the appearance of the two young women. Clearly twins, they were attractive enough, but neither of them drew him the way his pet did. They both looked at him with curious interest as they came rushing down the stairs.
“We heard someone banging on the door-”
“-and then voices-”
“Who is he, Grandmother?”
