“Damn it,” he muttered.
He could hear her now, or whoever it was, the fading echo of footsteps below. She’d taken the back way. Without thinking, Jamie jumped the last few steps and landed hard, his boots splashing through a shallow puddle.
The passage opened into the cul-de-sac at the far side of the yard. Moonlight silvered the rooftops, but the street itself lay in shadow. Stopping at the mouth of the alley, he searched left and right, heart pounding. Nothing moved except a scrap of newspaper caught in the wind.
Then, voices.
Male and growing louder. Three of them, maybe more, coming from the left. Jamie pressed himself into the shadows. If Alice were still here, she’d have done the same. He prayed she had.
The men turned the corner. One carried a lantern that threw a greasy circle of light across the walls. Jamie caught their faces as they passed, and his breath froze.
Kenneth Jackson.
The shock of recognition punched through him like a fist. Before reason could stop him, Jamie stepped out into the light.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jackson’s face wasunmistakable even in the patchy moonlight and as smug as the last time he had seen him. The bastard had changed little over the years. Two big men flanked him. Brutes with enormous fists and mean looks in their eyes.
“Well, well,” Jackson drawled, his voice slick with mockery. “If it isn’t Lord High-and-Mighty Stafford sniffing around where he don’t belong. I’ve been informed that someone has been asking questions about me. Was that you?”
“Don’t belong?” Jamie raised a brow and told himself to stay calm. He was outnumbered, and not thinking clearly would not help that. “Come now, one would think, considering you were employed as a housemaster in a prestigious school, you could articulate a sentence correctly, Jackson. It’s where he doesn’t belong. And, of course, I belong anywhere I choose, because I am a marquess, and you—well, you’re a nobody.”
Jamie’s body thrummed with rage, but he forced his voice steady. “And I’m sure I’m not the only one hunting you, like the animal you are. There are the many boys you tortured for fun at Blackwood Hall before you were dismissed for stealing.”
Jackson inhaled, the smug look fleeing.
“I know everything there is to know about you, Jackson. The charity school, the girls in the Crimson Serpent, the list goes on,” Jamie said.
“I’ve been watching you and yours too. I know what you’ve been doing,” Jackson snarled. “You don’t scare me, Stafford.You’re a weak-kneed noble, just like you were as a boy at my mercy.” He turned to look at the men with him. “He used to cry like a baby all the time. Pathetic, he was.”
Jamie had known that when the day came that he confronted Jackson, he’d be bombarded by memories, but right then, he couldn’t afford to let them consume him. He had to stay clear headed and focused.
He wants you to get angry.
“Come now, not just any baby, but one of noble birth, unlike you. I walk in society, and sit in the House of Lords, Jackson.” The rage on the man’s face made him smile.
There was no doubt Jackson enjoyed the treatment he’d meted out at Blackwood Hall, but Jamie and his friends believed some of his anger had stemmed from his birth. He’d been jealous of the titles the boys under his care held, and he’d extracted retribution and money from them for his lack of one.
“I don’t need blue blood to be important, Stafford.”
Jamie looked at the buildings around him and then back at Jackson. “Yes, I can see how important you are by your current lodgings.” The words came out heavily laced with sarcasm. “Come now, Jackson. We both know it bothers you very much that you’re not one of the elite in London society, and never will be.”
Jamie assessed the situation as Jackson hissed out an angry breath. If he reached for his gun, they’d be on him in seconds, but he had no other options, other than his fists, and those he would be using after he fired the first shot.
“Were you behind the good men who worked with me in Blackwood Hall ending their days in prison?” Jackson snarled out the words. “My friends,” he added.
“Good men?” Jamie forced out a bark of laughter. “Do you mean the low-life scum like you who preyed on boys for fun? Men who inflicted pain for some kind of sick and twisted thrill?”The words came out like a low growl of thunder. “Yes, I harmed your friends and made them pay, and now it’s your turn.”
“You were a sniveling boy,” Jackson snarled, “and cowed like a baby when I beat you and your friends. You—”
Jamie moved so fast the two men with Jackson didn’t see it. He then punched the man as hard as he could in the face. The satisfying crack of his nose was his last thought as the two brutes were on him seconds later, while Jackson howled in pain and dropped to his knees.
Jamie reached for his gun, but he had no time, as one man lashed out with a fist. This would be a fight for his life.
He swung, punching the man hard in the jaw, but he didn’t go down, just grunted. The second charged, slamming Jamie into the nearest wall. Pain shot through his shoulder, but he shoved him back and drove a punch into his gut.
Then Jackson, who had staggered to his feet, blood pouring from his nose, lunged. Jamie ducked the first blow, landed one to Jackson’s ribs, but he didn’t go down. Short but solid, the man could clearly take a punch.
