Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers

29

“Hit ’im harder! Bloody fucking toff!”

The Marquess of Cambourne stood his ground and swiped at the blood running from his lip. The crowd, a motley collection of sailors, thieves, and other disreputable characters cheered on their champion. Sutton’s opponent was much larger, bald, and powerfully built. He was also stupid and slow, like an enraged bull. Actually, Sutton thought that was the man’s name. Bull.

“Take his head off!” someone in the crowd screamed.

“Yes,” Sutton mocked Bull, “take my head off.”

Bull swung at Sutton.

Sutton bent at the waist, leaning back until he swore his hair brushed the cobbled stones of the alley.

The crowd roared in disapproval as Bull’s fist hit nothing but air.

Sutton lurched back up. His fist connected solidly with Bull’s jaw and he winced with the pain of contact. It was possible he’d broken a finger.

The big man stumbled back, shaking his head to clear it.

Sutton didn’t intend to spend the better part of the evening fighting for his life in a filthy alley. When the Persephone docked earlier today in Port Elizabeth, Sutton only meant to find a dark tavern in which to nurse his guilt over leaving Alexandra. He’d needed a distraction.

Well, I’ve certainly gotten it.

Sutton watched as Bull cracked his knuckles, readying himself to beat Sutton to a pulp. Sweat poured down Sutton’s face. How had he gone from an evening of self-recrimination and scotch to this?

I just wanted a drink.

Sutton had sat down at the seedy tavern as the sun began to set and ordered a bottle of the best scotch the establishment provided. He was no stranger to the world of pickpockets, thieves, and sailors that taverns such as the Mermaid’s Tail attracted. There were worse establishments in Macao with less friendly clientele. Sutton sought only the refuge of drink, anything to blunt the stupidity of his leaving London.

I allowed Jeanette to drive me from my home. Again.

The betrayal he’d felt upon finding out that Alexandra had kept the truth of Helmsby Abbey from him led Sutton to make a hasty decision. His anger caused him to settle in at White’s with a bottle of whiskey. Hurt pushed him to make the irrational choice to join Lord Bishop’s expedition.

Alex.

His guilt and shame at not trusting his wife filled him with revulsion. She would not have kept the truth from him without good reason, the good reason being that Alex probably feared he would behave exactly the way he did. The scotch, Sutton thought, would blunt the worst of it.

Unfortunately, Bull eyed him with suspicion the moment Sutton entered the tavern. He didn’t care for the cut of Sutton’s coat nor did he care for Sutton.

Sutton feinted to the left and spun. Not quick enough. His reactions were dulled by the scotch. Bull caught him on the side of his chin, knocking Sutton sideways. The big man grabbed at his collar, meaning to pull Sutton up to finish the beating.

Sutton shrugged out of his shirt.

Bull roared angrily as he held up the empty white shirt and tossed it to the ground.

“By all that’s holy, look at the dragon!” A filthy-looking man with buckteeth and ginger hair pointed at Sutton’s back. “Never seen a toff sport such a thing. Any man who can stand the sting of the needle is a fighter.”

Sutton saluted the small, ginger-haired man. He had a supporter.

The ginger-haired man began taking odds. He shot Sutton a grin while urging the crowd to bet.

Sutton wondered how much his life was worth in Port Elizabeth. Several pounds, at least.

Bull ran, hitting Sutton square in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him.

The stones of the alley lacerated Sutton’s back as he slid across them. His hands tried to grasp something, anything he could use to defend himself, but found only garbage and something squishy Sutton didn’t wish to contemplate. Sutton’s hand closed over a brick. He closed his eyes into slits, pretending to be too stunned to move.

Bull thundered towards Sutton.

The crowd roared. “Finish him off, Bull!”

Bull grinned. His upper teeth were missing. The big man loomed over Sutton. Bull turned to the crowd. “Always put yer bets on Bull!” He reached towards Sutton’s head, meaning to pull him up by his hair.

The brick hit Bull on the side of his temple. Bull looked shocked for an instant before his eyes rolled up into his head and he went down, landing in a pile of refuse.

The crowd stood in silence, shocked at the loss of their champion. Then the yelling began. A scuffle broke out. A man spit on the unconscious Bull. The ginger-haired man collected his winnings, winking at Sutton in the process.

Sutton backed away from the melee. He pushed aside an urchin who was making for Sutton’s discarded shirt and took the cloth from him. The shirt was filthy and torn, but since he had lost his jacket, the shirt was all he had left. Blood trickled down his back, stinging the wounds made by the sharp stones of the alley. A good fight, one with fists, cleared a man’s mind.

Alex.

Sutton could imagine the Badger raining punches and kicks upon him. He deserved it. He’d left her. Abandoned her. Sutton hoped to God Alex would forgive him.

“I’m a fool,” he said as he rounded the corner towards the docks. Ships lined up as far as the eye could see. Port Elizabeth was the last port of call for those rounding the tip of Africa, headed to Asia. The Persephone would take on supplies and additional crew before heading first to Madagascar, then on to Macao. The Persephone, however, was going to be leaving without Sutton. Lord Bishop would need to lead his own expedition. The idea of wandering through the jungle, cataloging exotic animals and fighting off the natives didn’t hold the same appeal for Sutton as it once did. Nor did almost being beaten to death in an alley. He wanted to go home.

Home was Alex.

Another of Nick’s ships docked just this morning to take on supplies before heading to England. A stroke of good luck. He approached the captain, a man he’d met previously on the docks in London while in Nick’s company. A berth for Sutton was secured with little fanfare.

He planned to approach his prickly Badger carefully. First, he would bribe her with trips to Thrumbadge’s. Pleasure her so thoroughly that she would lack the strength to deny him forgiveness. Lastly, he would hold her to his heart and tell her what was in his soul. That he loved her and prayed that she could love him in return. He would never leave England again unless she was at his side. Sutton winced and touched his swollen lip. He would tell the Badger he loved her as he loved nothing else in his life.

As he approached the Persephone, a stone rattled on the dock behind him. The back of his neck tingled. Absorbed as he was on thoughts of Alex, he neglected to pay attention to his surroundings, a mistake he hadn’t made in years. Someone was following him.

Damn.

He ducked just in time to avoid a blow to the head and the heavy club hit his already bloodied shoulder and back.

The man came back at him from the side swinging a wicked blade.

Sutton pivoted, but his foot slipped on the wet street. The knife nicked his ribs. He spun and kicked, his foot catching the man on his stomach.

The man went down to one knee, trying to catch his breath.

Sutton clenched his fists, ready for his attacker to get up. “Who sent you?”

A shadow fell across Sutton’s shoulders as the rough feel of a rope draped around his neck. His assassin had a partner. Immediately he reached up, sticking his fingers between neck and rope, in a desperate attempt to keep from being choked. The heavy cord drew tighter, cutting into his fingers.

Sutton swung from side to side, desperately trying to dislodge the man who stood behind him holding the rope. He swung one arm wide, attempting to strike a blow. His fist hit nothing but air.

The man in front of him stood. “Archie says hello.”

The rope continued to cut off his air supply. He saw stars. He saw Alex’s face.

Sutton stopped thrashing. The world around him grew dim. The toe of a boot kicked his ribs as he fell to the dock. Hands picked him up and carried him to the water’s edge, then flung him in the air. The shock of the icy water made him gasp for breath against the wrench of the rope. His body was pulled rapidly down through dark water.

The assassins had taken no chances. A large weight attached to the other end of the rope hastened his descent into darkness even as he felt the rope loosen. His last conscious thought was of Alex and how incredibly angry she would be with him if he died.