Free Jack Lark: Rogue by Paul Fraser Collard Page B

planted, she lifted her left and knocked Jack’s wide-brimmed hat to the floor before seizing the back of his neck, pulling his head forward and plunging his face into her heaving bosom.
    Jack was too astonished to react. His assailant pushed his face in deeper, his mask slipping upwards so that his nose and mouth were smothered in warm cleavage.
    ‘Edmund!’
    Jack barely registered Edmund’s father shouting at him, his hearing muffled by the wide expanse of flesh that engulfed his head.
    ‘Edmund, what the devil are you doing?’ He felt a hand pull at his shoulder and was wrenched free from his sweaty, pungent prison. ‘What do you think you are playing at? I should . . .’
    Sir Humphrey stammered to silence as he saw Jack’s face, his mask left firmly embedded in the woman’s bosom.
    ‘Who the devil are you?’
    ‘I . . .’ Jack was struggling to breathe. He was given no time to form a coherent sentence. Edmund’s father grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him forward so that their faces were no more than an inch apart.
    ‘Damn your eyes, man. What have you done with my son?’

Chapter 8
    The carriage was silent. Jack felt the implacable hand of fate on his shoulder. Edmund’s father sat opposite him, his face set like thunder.
    ‘It will be gaol for you if anything has happened to my son.’ His voice was cold.
    Jack did not doubt the threat. A poor boy from Whitechapel stood no chance against a wealthy man. He shrank away as if he could somehow hide himself in the corner of the darkened carriage.
    ‘I know you, boy. You work in that gin palace. Is that where my son has gone?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ Jack was humbled. He was deep in the shit and did not know how he could clamber out. But he was certain that being helpful offered him his only chance of reprieve.
    ‘What on earth has he gone back there for?’
    Jack hesitated. Sir Humphrey fixed him with a pair of angry eyes. ‘Out with it, boy. It will go badly for you if you lie to me now.’
    ‘He’s with a girl.’
    ‘A girl!’ A vein throbbed at Sir Humphrey’s temple. ‘What manner of girl would entertain my son at such an establishment!’
    Jack felt the stirrings of anger. He had endured his fill of being a whipping boy. ‘He’s fucking a whore, sir. And not for the first time neither.’
    Sir Humphrey’s mouth gaped open, his shock complete.
    ‘She’s a good girl. Clean, too.’ Jack thrust off his fear. He owed this man nothing. He would face his fate with courage.
    To Jack’s surprise, Sir Humphrey recovered his composure almost immediately, and instead of an angry retort, the older man simply laughed. ‘Thank God for that.’
    ‘What?’ Jack did not understand.
    ‘I was beginning to think he lacked the backbone for that kind of thing.’ Sir Humphrey sat back and clapped his hands on to his legs. ‘Upon my soul, the boy is a chip off the old block after all.’
    ‘You’re pleased?’
    ‘Of course! Why on earth do you think I took him to such a place? I wanted to inspire his lusts. I wanted him to face temptation!’
    ‘I wish you were my guv’nor.’ Jack found himself smiling; Sir Humphrey’s laughter was infectious. He felt his preconceived opinion of Edmund’s father disappearing.
    ‘Ha! Indeed! What is your name? I cannot keep calling you “boy”.’
    ‘Jack. My name is Jack Lark.’
    ‘We are well met, then, young Mr Lark.’
    The carriage came to a halt with a lurch that had them both reaching for the straps attached to the doors.
    ‘Here we are!’ Sir Humphrey wrapped his greatcoat tight around him, his costume hidden beneath. ‘Let us find my feckless offspring and give him a bloody good shock, shall we?’
    Sir Humphrey walked fast. Jack was impressed by his manner. His cane snapped out with authority as he marched through the throng. The streets were dark, but even at this late hour they were still busy, the last of the costermongers looking to turn a shilling by working the night-time crowd as the folk