Page 45 of Rogue’s Holiday

The friends of the conspirators could have shot him many times over. The note had said “…when you least expect it, ye will suffer.” That could be at any time his back was turned. Yet they had not taken action. What was their intent? Why did they wait, only observing? He could only hope Chastity Reynolds was not with him when their attack came. Perhaps he should set another trap, this time for his pursuers.

Standing in the shadows of the rooms he had rented just off 4th Street, Aaron Ings studied the men he had chosen to exact his revenge. They were a rough lot, the kind who would do murder for a price with nary a concern. It helped his cause that they regarded a spy for the Crown to be the worst of men, a loathsome wretch. Powell was just such a one, the only one who’d been there at the beginning with Aaron’s brother, James, when Thistlewood had first spoken of the need for action, but who’d not been there at the end. It had taken time, but Aaron had tracked him down.

Once Aaron knew where the spy was headed, he followed him to Brighton, arranging to meet his hired men a few days later. That Powell was the guest of the king and staying in the Royal Pavilion made things difficult as it was well guarded. But Aaron would have his revenge, even if it took him the summer to see it done.

He leaned against the planks of the wall in the dismal lodgings, listening to his men discuss how he might go about it. With the shades drawn over the windows, he and the men he’d hired in London were left in near darkness, save for the two tallow candles burning from the sideboard. The shabby surroundings were not up to his standards but the entrance in the alley off North Street enabled them to come and go without notice. It was on North Street he had first discovered the despicable spy strolling along with his companion as if he had not an ounce of guilt for betraying good Englishmen to the gallows, including Aaron’s own brother.

Aaron was curious to hear what his men had to say since they had just returned from the seafront where they had been watching Powell that morning.

“Ye should have seen him eyein’ the chit,” said Duffy. “No sister that one. A real looker she were, too. I seen him with her the night I trailed him from the king’s palace to that fancy house on the Steyne.”

“Aye,” agreed Augie. “Whoever she be–sister, friend or roll in the hay, he were careful of her, quick to help her over the stones and carryin’ her basket.”

Pete rubbed his hand over his bristled chin. “Is it just killin’ the bastard ye’re after, Guv? Or would ye care to make him pay in kind for what he done? I say take from him, like he took from ye!”

Aaron uncrossed his arms and pulled away from the wall. “You may have a point, Pete. Touching the object of his affection would prolong the agony. But I will not kill a woman.”

“Who said anythin’ about killin’ her?” asked Pete. “We could have a bit of fun with her and return him used goods. He might even thank us. A skirt is like a horse, better when they’re broke in some.”

Augie licked his lips. “I’ve always had a hankerin’ to try a piece of high-born tail. Ye know, just to see what ’tis like.”

Pete grinned. “Skirts are all the same. Strip off them fine clothes, there’s no way to tell Lady Lah-de-dah from Easy Sally Slattern.”

“You are correct.” Aaron lifted his fine boot onto the seat of a chair and crossed his arms over his thigh, his eyes narrowing at the thought. “Society’s passport is reputation. To truly burn that blackguard’s heart, the girl must be worse than used. She must be soiled beyond redemption. She must become Easy Sally.” He nodded to himself as the plan formed in his mind. “I know of a brothel my brother frequented when he moved among the gentry. I assume the madam will accept donations, and won’t be overly particular about the source. How fitting if Powell’s lady were to join the ranks of the courtesans there.”

“Right,” said Augie with a sneer. “We drop him a note and send him half out of his mind searchin’ for her. Meanwhile, we give her to yer fancy London brothel. Even if he manages to find her…she’ll be ruined.”

Pete smiled, his blackened teeth forming a most unpleasant sneer. “She might as well be dead.”

Aaron stared into the candle’s flame thinking about all he must do. “I’ll need time in London to take care of things,” he muttered. “While I’m away, keep your eyes on the prey. I wouldn’t want him to leave Brighton before we are ready. But, remember, he’s a spy and will be wary, so be on your guard.”