by Shana Galen
“Ye’re right about that,” Corker, a bald man with one long eyebrow, said. “This is a pleasure. You got a price on yer ’ead. Don’t know what you filched from Beezle and don’t care. Jonesy”—he jerked his head at the small, thin man who constantly rubbed his palms together—“fetch Beezle.”
Gideon held up his hands. “Now wait just a moment, gentlemen. Is that any way to treat a crony?”
“Crony?” Mill spat a dark, foul juice from his scruffy jaw. “Ye’re no crony to naught but yerself.”
“That’s not true. Mill, last year you and me, we cracked that house together.”
“And you ran off with the clank and sneakers. That were the only cargo worth anything,” Mill said in his high-pitched voice.
This was bad. Gideon did a quick reckoning. He’d crossed all of them in one way or another. “A misunderstanding,” Gideon told Mill.
“What about that time we was cornered by them pigs?” Rum said. His low words slurred together. “I ’ad to dispatch ’em meself.”
“Rum,” Gideon said, his voice and expression one of deep pain. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t climb through that glaze. But look—”
“No, you look,” Lighter said, taking a step toward him. Lighter was a giant of a man. He walked in a perpetual crouch to keep from banging his head on ceilings.
Gideon would have stepped back, but Strawberry was cowering behind him. He was cornered. Lighter’s meaty hand wrapped around Gideon’s throat and lifted him. Dangling a foot off the ground, Gideon knew the exact moment Lighter got a look at Strawberry. The murderous expression on his face was snuffed out like the flame of a candle.
“Who’s this?” Lighter asked, voice full of wonder.
Gideon couldn’t turn his neck, incapacitated as it was between Lighter’s beefy fingers, but he rolled his eyes in Strawberry’s general direction. Even holding that blasted glim-stick, she gave a curtsy worthy of the queen.
“Gentlemen,” she said, sweeping those thick lashes down. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Lighter’s jaw dropped. Gideon shook his body in an attempt to dislodge his throat from Lighter’s grip, but the man would not release him. The hiss of the lamps sounded loud in the sudden silence. Like Lighter, Mill’s chops hung open. Corker and Jonesy looked like they’d hit their nobs too hard. Mill blinked rapidly, and Rum fumbled to straighten his dirty neckcloth.
Corker recovered first. “Who are you?”
Gideon didn’t know her well enough to deduce whether or not she was nervous, but if she was, she gave no sign. She smiled brightly, and she had the sort of smile that spread sunlight into the darkest reaches of the flash house. “I’m Susanna.”
“Susanna,” Mill squeaked reverently.
“You with him?” Lighter shook Gideon by the throat, and the world went black for a moment.
“Through a mutual friend. Perhaps you know her? Marlowe?”
“We know ’er,” Rum mumbled. “She sent Satin to City College.”
“Newgate,” Gideon explained with a wheeze.
“And good riddance.” Jonesy leaned forward to spit then seemed to think better of it and swallowed loudly.
“I don’t know anything about those circumstances,” Strawberry said, moving forward and into the light. Her pale, pink-tinged skin and shiny hair made her look like an angel beside the dirty, dirt-stained men. Mill took a step back.
“I do know Mr. Harrow has agreed to assist me with a personal matter, and”—she bestowed a kind smile on Lighter—“I would be so grateful if you would set him down. He looks as though he cannot breathe.”
Lighter stared at her then opened his hand. Gideon thudded on the floor.
“Thank you. I can see you gentlemen are busy. As soon as Mr. Stryker returns with my shoes, I shall take Mr. Harrow and be out of your way.”
“You can’t ’ave ’Arrow,” Corker said.
Gideon rubbed the aching shoulder on which he’d fallen and rose to his feet. What the devil was this? Why wasn’t Strawberry weeping in a corner or on the floor in a swoon? Of the six devils, she’d charmed at least three. But not Corker. Corker would scare her right back to Mayfair. He wouldn’t hurt her. None of these rooks were the sort to harm a woman, but neither were they cock robins.
“I beg your pardon?” Susanna said pleasantly.
“’E’s got a price on his head. We’re taking him to Beezle.”
“Oh dear.” She looked down, her expression one of grief. Gideon could have sworn tears shimmered in her eyes. If they were authentic, he’d run back to Beezle himself.
She looked up, her brown eyes pleading. “That is dire news indeed.”
“Why?” Mill asked. Rum nodded.
“Because I suppose that means the end of my dream.”
Jonesy pointed to Gideon “’E’s your dream?”
She flicked a glance at him. “No, no. Of course not.”
Gideon crossed his arms, offended for some reason. She’d said it almost as though she thought the idea he could be anyone’s dream ridiculous. Gideon could have told her there were any number of ladies—well, not ladies exactly, but women—who dreamed about him.
“He offered to take me to Vauxhall Gardens. That’s my dream. You see—” She made a show of looking about for a seat.
Dab, who’d stayed in the back until now, rushed forward with the broken chair. “’Ere, miss.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at him, and his face went as red as a hot coal.
Gideon stared. He’d never seen anyone with the power she had. Once, when he’d been young, he’d sneaked in to see a traveling circus. Gideon had never forgotten the snake charmer—the power the man had over the deadly snakes, the way he entranced them and coaxed the serpents into a terrible but beautiful dance.
Strawberry was a snake charmer, and he hadn’t even known it.
Gideon should have been relieved. The six snakes in Stryker’s kitchen were extremely venomous. Instead, he was annoyed. Gideon was starting to think he would actually have to take her to Vauxhall.
Strawberry had seated herself daintily in the wobbly chair. She acted as though it were a throne, arranging her skirts around it and folding her hands together over the glim-stick. “My dream is to go to Vauxhall Gardens. Have you ever been?”
Several of the men shook their heads. Corker and Lighter nodded.
“Was it magical?” she asked, looking first at Corker then Lighter.
“It’s not magical,” Gideon interrupted. “It’s one more place for the swells to show off their finery.”
“I thought it was magical,” Lighter said.
His voice was wistful, and his eyes far away. Gideon wanted to snap his fingers in front of Lighter’s face and say, Wake up.
“Did you?” Strawberry asked.
Instead of elbowing the giant in the gut, the other rooks nodded encouragement for Lighter to continue.
“There was music and dancing. The music was the most beautiful thing you ever ’eard. Sounded like angels singing.”
“Angels singing?” Gideon laughed.
Mill shushed him with a deadly look.
“Go on,” Strawberry said, appearing as though she hung on Lighter’s every word. Dab, who had stayed by her side, looked at her as though he’d finally met his god.
“I ’eard that music,” Lighter said, “and I forgot all about dancing. I stood all night and listened.”
“You didn’t dance?” Strawberry asked.
Lighter looked down at his giant frame. “Who’d dance with me?”
“A big strapping gentleman like yourself? Who wouldn’t dance with you?”
Gideon groaned. “Don’t you see what she’s doing?”
“I see ye’re interrupting ’er telling us about ’er dream,” Rum said, his voice a grumble. “Shut yer gob.”
“
Thank you,” she said. “I’ve never been to Vauxhall Gardens, and I am sure I would enjoy the music as much as Mr.…” She looked up at Lighter.
“Lighter,” he said.
“As Mr. Lighter did. But you see, I have a more important reason for venturing into the pleasure gardens.”
“What’s that?” Jonesy asked.
Strawberry looked at each of them in turn—Dab, Jonesy, Lighter, Mill, Rum, and the only one who appeared skeptical, Corker. “Love,” she said simply.
“Love?” Corker asked.
“No,” Gideon moaned. “Not you too.”
“Have you ever been in love, Mr.…”
“Corker,” Dab supplied. He pointed to each man in turn and said their names. If she thought they were unusual, she didn’t show it.
“Have you, Mr. Corker?”
“I fell in love at Vauxhall,” Corker said.
Gideon groaned.
Strawberry clapped her hands together. “Really?”
“Love.” Gideon snorted. “Some moll who led you down The Dark Walk for a shilling.”
Corker slammed a meaty fist on the table. The wood whined and shivered.
“It weren’t like that, Gid. She weren’t no buttock.” He looked down at his hands. “Least I don’t think she was.” He laced his fingers together then unlaced them, the sausage-sized digits moving almost gracefully. “She were beautiful and kind.”
Gideon rolled his eyes. Dab moved like lightning, slamming Gideon against the wall. With a muffled curse, Gideon threw him off.
“Ain’t you ever had a dream?” Dab asked.
“Yes,” Gideon said. “My dream is to get the hell out of this place. The hell away from Beezle. I don’t give a damn about music or love.” He sneered at Corker.
“Don’t mind ’im,” Mill squeaked. “Everyone knows ’e was in love with Marlowe for years. She didn’t love ’im back.”
“Go to hell!” Gideon lunged for Mill, but Lighter extended an arm, effectively blocking Gideon’s path.
“If yer dream is to go to Vauxhall, then you should go,” Jonesy said. “I’ll take you meself.”
He stepped forward, standing before Strawberry like a knight from the old stories.
“No!” Gideon ducked under Lighter’s arm and shoved Jonesy aside. “I’m taking her.”
Dab advanced. “Not if she don’t want you to.”
“Miss Susanna, I’d be honored to take you,” Rum muttered, approaching Strawberry.
“So would I,” Mill added.
Gideon ran a hand through his hair in frustration. At this rate, half the rookery would be escorting Strawberry, and he’d never get the necklace back. Unless she went with Stryker’s rooks. Then he could sneak back to her house, rifle it, and—
“Gentlemen,” Strawberry said finally, interrupting the argument as to who was better suited to escort her. “I’m afraid I promised Mr. Harrow he could escort me.”
“’Arrow has a price on his pate,” Corker said, his single eyebrow lowering to shade his eyes. “We’re taking ’im to Beezle.”
“And you cannot take him to this Beezle tomorrow? I need him for one night, and then he’s all yours.” She held her hand out, as though serving him on a platter.
Corker’s eyebrow lowered further.
“Please, Mr. Corker. You, of all people, understand about the importance of love. And this dream I have of finding love at Vauxhall Garden, it isn’t for me. It’s”—she gave them all a pleading look that would have put the actors at Drury Lane to shame—“it’s for my mother.”
“Your mother?” Mill squeaked.
“Yes.” She stood. “I’m afraid I’ve been something of a disappointment to my mother. I thought if I could find the man she’d once loved, then perhaps she might love me. Just a little.”
“How could you be a disappointment?” Lighter said, planting his legs apart like tree trunks. “You’re perfect.”
“If only that were true. I’m afraid I’m not as accomplished as she’d hoped I would be. And I can be a bit impulsive and—”
“Stubborn,” Gideon added.
Dab smacked him. “Shut yer potato trap.”
“It’s true. I can be stubborn.” She looked at her toes, still clad in the flimsy slippers.
Gideon blew out a breath. Where the hell was Stryker already?
“But if you will just give me the chance to make this one dream come true, then I will be so very grateful.”
Lighter looked at Dab, who looked at Mill, who looked at Rum, who looked at Jonesy, who looked at Corker. Corker blew out a long, tortured breath. “Go. Live your dream.”
“What dream?” Stryker said from the steps. “It better be a dream about going out tonight and filching me cargo we can fence, or you’ll be dreaming in someone else’s flash ken.” He lifted a pair of mud-caked boots. “’Ere you go. They’re not pretty, but they don’t ’ave no holes.”
Susanna blinked, clearly appalled at the idea of wearing the scuffed, grimy beater cases. She must have thought better of objecting, because she sat, daintily removed her slippers, and took the boots from Stryker’s hand. She slid her feet into them as though they were encrusted with jewels.
She rose, wiggled her toes to check the fit, and handed the slippers to Stryker. “Thank you, sir.”
“I ain’t no sir. Unless I miss my guess, the two of you are hungry.” He jerked a thumb at Mill. “Give them some of that stew.”
Mill hurriedly filled two bowls and set them out with a crust of bread. Gideon didn’t even glance at the food before shoveling it into his mouth.
Susanna balked at the brown glop. “Perhaps I will save this for Beauty.”
“The dog?” Stryker asked. “Gave her some kitchen scraps already. Her belly is full.”
“Oh.” Susanna looked down at the stew. “Then I will eat…this.” She closed her eyes and spooned the stew into her mouth. Gideon was impressed. The stew didn’t taste half as bad as it looked, but he didn’t think she’d be able to stomach it.
Finally, she pushed her bowl away. “My compliments to the cook.”
Stryker grinned. “I’ll tell Nancy. Bet she never had a lady compliment her cooking before. Now, my men have work to do, and the two of you better be on yer way. Looks like rain.” He glanced at Corker and then the rest of his men. “Unless one of you ’as an objection?”
Corker bared his teeth but didn’t protest.
“Well then,” Gideon said, pushing Strawberry in front of him and up the stairs. “We’ll just be going.”
“You’d better watch your back,” Jonesy called. “We’re coming for you tomorrow.”
“I’ll miss you too,” Gideon called.
“You’ll see me soon enough,” Rum said with a growl.
“You have to catch me first.”
Gideon pushed Strawberry through the door at the top of the stairs and took her hand. Outside, distant lightning lit the skies and threw jagged slashes of brightness into the dark house. Gideon used the light to pull Strawberry through the rooms and back to the door where the dog rose and nuzzled her hand.
Once on the stoop, Gideon heard the snick of the lock slide back into place.
The streets were all but empty of the men and women who’d been lolling about earlier. The distant rumble of thunder had driven most of them to seek shelter. Gideon could smell rain in the air, and the towering clouds billowing in the night sky meant a storm was coming. If they were fortunate, they would beat the weather to Vauxhall Gardens. If not, it would be a long, cold, wet night.
* * *
“As…grateful as I am to possess these boots,” Susanna began, “we have solved only half our dilemma.” She pulled her wrap close around her shoulders. The breeze snapped at her skirts, and refuse blew about the streets as though pushed by an invisible hand. The skies to the west had a rath
er ominous green tint to them, and lightning spiked through the low-hanging clouds. Beauty hugged her leg, hiding her face in Susanna’s skirts.
Gideon started down the steps without waiting for her. “You mean we still don’t have any blunt.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t seem inclined to wait, and she did not want to be left behind, so she hurried to catch up to him.
“I don’t think that will be a problem.” The wind whipped at his thin coat and snatched his words away so she could hear only half of them.
“Why not?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the rattle of debris and the wind rushing through her ears.
“Because I had no idea you had such talent.”
“Talent?” She must have heard him wrong.
He turned, pausing in the middle of the street, and pointed toward Stryker’s house. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t—”
“What you did at Stryker’s, convincing six men they should protect you from me. God knows, you’re not the one who needs protection. You filched my necklace.”
“It’s not yours. You…filched it from some poor soul.”
“Not the point!” He jabbed a finger at her, and thunder rumbled in the sky. Susanna looked up. The lightning seemed to be closer now.
“The point, Strawberry, is we don’t need coin. I have faith you can charm any man into giving us exactly what we want.”
“If you are implying I would use my female charms to entice a man to do my bidding, you have sorely misjudged me, sir.”
Gideon closed his eyes, and the stark planes of his face were lit by the storm in the sky. The image would have made an amazing sketch if she’d only had paper and pencil.
The first big plop of rain fell on her neck.
And shelter.
“Not those sorts of charms, Susanna. God knows you’ve probably never even been kissed.”
She was so shocked at the statement, she didn’t have a ready retort. It was true, but how did he know that? How did he know she wasn’t a wanton woman? After all, she’d stood up to six large thugs, and she had the mighty Gideon Harrow doing her bidding as well.
Kissing a man was nothing to her. She could do anything.