Page 70 of Juliet's Touch

Chapter twenty-one

’TwasdarkwhenEricarrived at Juliet’s parents’ townhouse. There was no way a battered pugilist could knock on the door, present himself, then inquire about a baron’s daughter. Therefore, he tethered his horse to a gate post near the street, then crept to the servant’s entrance.

He didn’t have to wait long for two men wearing livery to exit. Tiptoeing behind them, Eric snuck into the kitchen. His senses on high alert, he navigated the dark, easily finding the servant’s stairwell. Assuming the family’s private rooms were on the second floor, he climbed one flight.

Stealthy and silent, he peered into a hallway illuminated by flickering wall sconces. Now came the difficult part—finding Juliet’s room. Barging in on one of her parents would cause an unholy uproar, and there was a good chance Baron Coldpepper kept a pistol beside his bed. Eric imagined tomorrow’s headline:Invincible Knight Roamer Shot to Death by Lover’s Father.

Eric had a lot of dark thoughts, but his own death was not among them. He simply couldn’t make an error.

If his assumptions were correct, her sisters had not visited lately, which meant there would be no perfumed scents coming from their rooms. Her father’s room would be the largest and probably connected to the balcony out front. Logically, Lady Coldpepper’s accommodations should be adjacent to her husband’s. Eric was currently on the back left side of the house. If he took all of this into consideration, Juliet’s bedroom should be in front of him and close to the center of the long hallway.

Sliding out of the landing, he headed for, then cracked open the door marking the midpoint. No one protested from inside, and he didn’t detect the scent of lilacs.

On light feet, he stole to the next room. He nudged the door so gently that it barely made a sound. This time, Juliet’s intoxicating scent filled his nostrils.

What a bittersweet victory. He’d broken into the house and found her room, but so could any nefarious person who intended to harm one of Coldpepper’s daughters—something needed to be done about the beggarly security.

Eric slipped inside and surveyed what he was certain was Juliet’s private chamber. Moonlight dappled across the bed, illuminating the far wall. His well-trained night eyes scanned the dark corners. Thereupon, his heartbeat stuttered, but not in the pleasant way it did when he was in her presence. Her undisturbed belongings signified she’d not yet been home.

Eric sat on the edge of her bed, pondering where she might be. There was a chance he’d arrived in London before her since she was in a slower-moving carriage. However, his horsemanship skills were so lacking that a timely arrival on his part seemed unlikely.

What if she’d had a carriage accident? Or been set upon by highwaymen? Or actually been abducted this time—by Riley! He wouldn’t put it past the lecherous, no-good rat.

Riley needed to drown in his own blood, and Eric’s alter-persona was only too happy to make this happen.

Eric bolted up the back stairwell of The Pink Petal, nodding at Flynn Collins as he charged past him.

“Stone, you’ve returned,” Flynn called to his back. “Thank feck. Things have gone to hell since ye left.”

Moaning, Eric halted his climb and faced Flynn.

“Malestorm sent Auntie a missive. Didn’t have the guts to show up here himself. Told her that until she puts you on leading strings, her rent is increasing.”

Unfortunately, it sounded as though Eric’s threat had backfired. So be it. If angry mobs were seeking the Knight Roamer’s head, Eric might as well make his decapitation worth it. After he left Riley face down in a pool of his own blood, he’d choke the last breath from Malestorm. An asphyxiated swine couldn’t threaten Auntie, or any of his other unfortunate tenants, ever again.

“I’ll take care of him,” Eric mumbled. Best to leave the gory details out.

“That’s not all,” Flynn said.

Eric assumed as much since Flynn still stared at him, looking as if someone had pissed in his favorite shoes.

“Two men have been skulking about the grounds late at night,” Flynn said. “One is practically a real-life giant. The other has a ridiculously long mustache. Curls up on both ends. I’ve chased ’em away twice.”

“Don’t know them,” Eric said, his gut twisting. Men who skulked about brothels without making themselves known or paying were rarely harmless saints.

Flynn rubbed his brow.

“Something else?” Eric asked, shifting his weight back and forth. Somehow, he needed to speed up this conversation.

“Riley’s been on a rampage. I’m afraid he is going to hurt Abigail or one of the other girls. I forced him to leave last night. I suspect he will return with a vengeance. Perhaps even try to shut us down.”

“I’ll take care of that, too,” Eric said. “I borrowed a horse. Tied him out front. Could you stable him somewhere nearby?”

“Aye,” Flynn said.

Eric pivoted directions, continuing up the stairs.

“Need help?” Flynn called.