Joanna finally turned away from the window, but she didn’t turn to her sister beside her. Instead, she met his gaze. “I’ve seen Teddy in his cups before. He won’t come with you. He’ll only cooperate if I cajole him.”
If she thought he’d let her walk into a pub with the dubious name of Devil’s Own located on the docks, where every cutthroat and thief resided, she wasn’t using her brain. “You will stay in the coach. I will retrieve Lord Mabry.”
Her brows lowered. “You cannot force me to stay here.”
“Actually, I can. You are in my coach and therefore under my protection.”
Her eyes narrowed once again as she murmured something under her breath.
“Joanna!” Mariel’s exclamation told him it couldn’t have been very complimentary.
He didn’t care. What he cared about was keeping her safe. If he thought for one moment he could do that by leaving her at the ball, he would have, but even with her parents watching her, he had no doubt she would have commandeered their coach and gone after Teddy by herself.
The coach came to a stop, but there was no pub anywhere in sight. Wishing he had his flintlock with him, he held up his hand to forestall any questions. One of his men would inform him of why they were stopped if it would be longer than a few moments. Conversation came from above and since there had been no shout of alarm, he could only surmise they were not being robbed.
The door opened and one of his footmen appeared. “Your Grace. There seems to have been a bit of a brawl and the road is blocked. However, the driver said that you could take this alley to the next street and the pub is across the street on the left.”
He peered down the alley behind his footman. It was filled with trash and only the breadth of three men standing side by side. As much as he didn’t care for walking through it, it would keep the women safely away from any immediate scuffle. “I will take you and my other man. Tell the Mabry footmen to stand guard around this coach. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” The footman closed the door.
He rose to exit, but Joanna grabbed his arm. “You can’t. It’s not safe.”
The worry in her face sent away all his doubts about her feelings for him. “I’ll be fine as long as I’m not worried about you.”
She stared into his eyes and reluctantly nodded.
He stepped out to find the Mabry footmen stationed on either side of the coach and his footmen waiting for him. After briefly explaining what they needed to do, he led the way down the alley. The limited light shining into the area made it difficult to see what he was stepping on, but that could be for the best. As they traversed the tight space, the stench grew stronger then seemed to dissipate. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a dead body among all the filth. Emerging onto the next street, he found a myriad of people wandering about. Most appeared drunk, though many of the women were working and finding a willing man to pay them for their services. Just as his coachman said, The Devil’s Own was to the left. He led his men to the pub. As he reached for the door, it opened, and a woman and man staggered out.
“Oooh, it be a gentleman and all.” The woman winked at him and licked her lips, but her partner pulled her away, swearing about too many gents in one night.
He hoped that meant that Lord Mabry was still inside. “Stay behind me.” At his men’s nods, he opened the door to loud music, boisterous voices, and the smell of sweat. Resisting the urge to cover his nose, he stepped inside and quickly scanned the patrons. He almost missed Lord Mabry simply because he was one of only three people who weren’t moving. Hoping the man was just drunk and not dead, he made his way between the tables and bodies. The chaotic crowd and loud noises threatened his control. He didn’t want to take deep breaths, so he kept them shallow and focused on the man sitting in a chair slumped against the wall. Just as he reached him, a dark-haired serving woman with pretty eyes stepped in front of him.
She hooked a finger over her shoulder. “You come for him?”
He gave her a nod.
She held out her hand. “He owes me two shillings.”
He raised his eyebrows and stared down his nose at her. “Are you telling me he doesn’t have two shillings?”
She lost her bluster. “He may have, but they’re thieving all over and he hasn’t paid me yet. If I don’t have at least two shillings from him, Morty will beat me.”
Hell and damnation. He reached into his waistcoat. Not planning on needing money, he only had a crown and three shillings. He handed it all to her. “Give Morty the shillings and keep the rest and find yourself another occupation.”
The woman stared at the coins in her hand before closing her fist tight and throwing herself at him, hugging him hard. “Thank you, sir.”
Luckily, as quickly as she’d grasped him, she let go and was heading for the bald man behind the bar.
Anxious to get out of the place, he motioned his men forward. “There. Let’s get him out of here.” As the footmen pulled Lord Mabry from his chair, his head lolled, but he still breathed.
He led his men out, focused on the door. Only four steps from it, a burly man with scraggly hair and a short beard stepped in front of him. “Where ya goin’ with me pal?”
He pulled himself to his full height and looked down his nose. “That man is my wife’s brother, and if I do not get him home posthaste, I’ll be sleeping in my cold coach tonight.”
The man stared at him as if he had seven heads, then let out a loud guffaw. “Dancing to yer woman’s tune? Poor bastard.” He moved aside and slapped him on the back.
Not wanting to show any weakness, he forced himself to keep his feet planted like he’d learned in school. He jerked his head toward the door. “Even now may be too late.” Then he moved forward again, opening the tavern door while his footmen passed. As they crossed the street with Lord Mabry, he couldn’t help feeling that they had barely made it out alive, and Joanna had expected to waltz into a place like that and coax her cousin out?
