A Talent for Trouble

by Jen Turano

  “He seems like a kind man.”

  “I’d prefer not to talk about Reverend Fraser, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “That’s fine by me. What would you care to talk about?”

  Tilting her head, she thought for a moment, then smiled. “Didn’t you mention something earlier about your having something to say to me about the café incident?”

  “I might have.”

  “And?”

  Grayson shifted in his chair, regarded the ceiling for a long moment, switched his attention back to her, stared unblinkingly at her for a good long time, and finally opened his mouth. “I behaved like an idiot at the café, and for that I truly must beg your pardon.”

  Good heavens, he was apologizing. She hadn’t expected that.

  She reached across the table and patted his hand. “Thank you for that, but since we’re clearing the air, I must admit to you that, after a thorough consideration of what I said that day, I believe I owe you an apology. I fear my words came across in an accusatory manner, but I certainly didn’t mean them as such.”

  Grayson smiled. “I’m perfectly aware that you didn’t mean to insult me. If you must know, your words struck a nerve, hence my abysmal behavior.” He paused for a moment, glanced to the right, and then a scowl crept over his face. “We’re going to have to continue this conversation elsewhere.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Evidently, I’ve been an idiot once again by not escorting you directly out of here after you finished your song. You’ve picked up some admirers, and unfortunately, they’re heading this way.”

  Felicia swiveled her head and found a group of slovenly dressed and staggering men making their way toward their table.

  It hit her then—the danger she’d allowed herself to so ridiculously stumble into. Granted, she’d only entered this deplorable pub to assist poor Jessie, but she should have seen him into a seat and taken her immediate leave. Her curiosity regarding the seedy establishment, and a longing to embrace a life she’d hidden from for far too long, had obviously made her lose all good sense. She looked back to Grayson. “You have no idea how thankful I am you somehow managed to find me here.”

  “Save your thanks for later,” he muttered. “I need to get you away from here—now.”

  Before Felicia could even push back her chair, Grayson was right next to her, offering her his hand. She looked up and blinked, finding that somehow, in the span of a few seconds, the charming and agreeable man who’d been sitting across from her had been replaced once again with the dangerous man from the café. Her heart began to beat a little faster.

  “I say there . . . Frank, wasn’t it?” one of the men asked, coming to a stop in front of the table. “Where are you going with fair Clara?”

  “That’s really none of your concern.”

  The man cracked his knuckles. “I’m making it my concern.”

  One minute Felicia was sitting in her seat, and the next she was standing against the wall, Grayson blocking her from the men, who were now looking remarkably ugly as they crowded closer to them. She found herself admiring the width of his shoulders and then shook herself. It was a completely inappropriate moment to ogle the man. Their lives appeared to be at risk, or at least Grayson’s did. The men didn’t seem to have a problem with her, which, now that she thought about it, might not be a good thing.

  “Gentlemen, I suggest you maintain your distance,” Grayson drawled, sounding for all intents and purposes the aristocrat he actually was.

  “Oh . . . fancy,” one of the men hooted. “I have a feeling you’re no ordinary Frank.”

  Felicia watched in stunned disbelief as Grayson shrugged out of his jacket and calmly handed it to her.

  “Watch this for me, love.”

  Even though the word love in regard to her was entirely too appealing, Felicia didn’t have a moment to savor the appeal. It seemed as if Grayson was actually considering engaging in a brawl with these men. She clasped his jacket to her chest, stepped forward, and tugged on his arm.

  “Grayson,” she whispered.

  He turned his head ever so slightly. “Yes?”

  “This is madness. There’s at least six of them and only one of you.”

  “True, hardly fair odds,” Grayson said with the strangest smile on his face. “Perhaps I should give them one last chance to back down.”

  Clearly the man was a lunatic. Before she could voice that opinion, Grayson spread his hands out. “I don’t want to hurt any of you, so if you’d be so kind as to move, we’ll just be on our way.”

  “You’re one of them fancy toffs from across the sea,” a big, brawny man with wild eyes said. “I don’t much like foreigners.” With that, he hurled himself at Grayson.

  A small squeak was all Felicia could manage as bodies began to fly through the air. Grayson was moving fluidly across the floor, almost like a dancer—although no dancer Felicia had ever seen radiated the sheer raw power and destruction Grayson was emitting. He suddenly turned, caught her eye . . . and grinned.

  Felicia lost the ability to breathe.

  He was not the gentleman everyone assumed him to be. He was dangerous, exciting, and seemingly insane, but there was something incredibly compelling about him that—

  Her breath came back in a split second when she realized one of the men had noticed Grayson’s distraction and was stealthily advancing on him, rage evident in his eyes. She tried to yell a warning, but her voice wasn’t up for the task of traveling through all the grunts and moans. She waved her hands to capture Grayson’s attention, but he’d already turned to deal with another one of the rowdy patrons. Not knowing what else to do, and fearing the advancing man was going to do Grayson a good deal of harm, she snatched up a large tankard filled with ale from a nearby table, rushed up behind the man, and swung with all her might.

  Ale splashed everywhere, soaking her from head to toe, but the resounding thud of the tankard meeting its mark and the subsequent act of the man dropping to the ground caused a glimmer of satisfaction to run through her.

  “Clara, honestly, get back against the wall,” Grayson yelled as another body sailed through the air and landed by her feet.

  Even though Grayson was sounding distinctly surly once again, Felicia couldn’t help herself—she grinned. Grayson scowled in her direction, gestured to the wall with one deliberate point of a finger, and then threw himself back into the fray, taking care of the last man standing with relatively little fuss.

  “What an extraordinary man,” Dot purred, causing Felicia to jump even as a trace of annoyance spread over her at the all too admiring look Dot was sending in Grayson’s direction. “Why, there’s just something downright delicious about a gentleman who can handle himself well in a dangerous situation.”

  Felicia took a moment to consider Grayson. Blood marked his shirt here and there, his waistcoat was sporting several rips, as were his trousers, and his hair was standing on end, but all in all, he did look somewhat . . . delicious.

  She pulled her attention away from him and glanced around the floor, taking in the vast amount of carnage Grayson had caused. Men were lying everywhere, some holding their heads, others holding their stomachs, and one barely moving at all.

  Apprehension was swift.

  How was he even capable of delivering such destruction, and without a weapon—well, except for his hands?

  He was an aristocrat and had been born to wealth and privilege, but he fought like a man who’d grown up on the streets, although not streets Felicia had ever seen.

  “Is there anyone else who has an issue with me taking Clara out of here?” Grayson suddenly demanded as he looked to the left and then to the right, a surprising touch of disappointment flashing over his face when no one else stepped forward.

  Good heavens, it appeared he’d enjoyed the brawl. What did that say about his true character?

  Grayson took that moment to stride over to Felicia, stopping right in front of her, the heat from his body, causing
goose bumps to erupt under the thin and wet material of her gown. She would have taken a step away from him, but her back was already against the wall, so she suppressed the urge to shiver and forced herself to meet his gaze. What she discovered there had her mouth running dry.

  He was furious, and it seemed as if that fury was directed at her.

  “You’re soaking wet.”

  She blinked. “True.”

  “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

  She blinked again. “It’s hardly cold out today, Grayson, and if I hadn’t hit that man over the head with the tankard of ale, he might have harmed you.”

  Grayson let out a snort. “I doubt that, but either way you shouldn’t have intervened. You could have been harmed.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “That’s beside the point, but tell me, how are you going to explain to your mother why you’re covered in ale?”

  “I forgot all about my mother.”

  “Apparently, as you’re currently in a pub, a place I’m certain your mother would hardly approve of,” Grayson said before he turned to Dot, who’d picked his jacket off the floor where Felicia had dropped it and handed it to him. He smiled his thanks and opened his mouth, but then his entire body stiffened and his eyes went hard. He reached forward with one hand, grabbed onto Felicia’s arm, and yanked her behind him, shielding her once again with his body.

  Interestingly enough, although he’d barely broken a sweat while he’d been engaged in the brawl, he was now perspiring, and profusely at that.

  Felicia leaned to the right and peered around him, searching for whatever new threat awaited. All she saw were two slightly built Chinese men, standing across the room, their attention decidedly locked on Grayson.

  “Is there a back door?” Grayson muttered out of the side of his mouth.

  Dot nodded.

  “Take Felicia outside and stay with her. I’ll join you momentarily.”

  Before Felicia could protest, Dot had her firmly by the arm and halfway across the bar. Felicia tried to dig in her heels, but Dot was remarkably strong for a lady of her size and tugged Felicia along, sending her a glare when Felicia tried to shake off her hold. “Stop that. We have to get out of here.”

  Felicia stopped resisting but didn’t allow Dot to increase their pace, dragging her feet once again, which slowed them down to a mere crawl. “Who are those men, and how can you believe it’s remotely acceptable to leave Grayson to face them alone?”

  “Honey, I have no idea who those men are, but I do know this. Something dangerous is afoot, and we need to let Grayson deal with it. After what I just saw, he’s more than capable of setting matters to rights.”

  The next moment, Felicia found herself outside the pub, standing in a rubbish-strewn alley. Her nose wrinkled at the pungent smell that smacked her in the face. She lifted a hand and covered her nose, looking around their derelict surroundings. “I think it was safer inside.” She spun on her heel, but before she could take a single step, the door flew open and Grayson stomped through it. He stopped and narrowed his eyes.

  “You weren’t thinking about coming after me just now, were you?”

  Felicia pretended she hadn’t heard him. “Who were those men?”

  For a moment, Felicia didn’t think Grayson was going to answer her. His eyes turned to hard shards of ice-blue glass, and she felt the unusual urge once again to step away from him, but stubbornness caused her to hold her ground. She planted her hands on her hips and simply waited.

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you,” he said.

  She shook her head.

  He sent her another glare and then released a grunt. “Fine, if you must know, my past just caught up with me.”

  Without another word, he sent Dot a nod, took Felicia’s hand, and pulled her down the alley.

  8

  Rage flowed freely as Grayson hustled Felicia over the rough cobblestones, trying not to dwell on what might be following them.

  It was glaringly clear that he had yet to put his irresponsible ways behind him. Throwing himself wholeheartedly into a brawl in some obscure seedy establishment had been beyond idiotic and had most likely put Felicia in great peril.

  He should have ignored the miscreants and tried to get Felicia out of the pub without incident. Unfortunately, the undisguised hunger directed at Felicia he’d observed pouring out of each and every one of their beady eyes had caused him to throw caution to the wind.

  If the logical part of his brain had been functioning as he was contemplating the brawl, he might have considered the troubling little fact that he was only doors away from an opium den. Using fighting skills he’d learned in China while so close to that den had been foolish in the extreme. Of course word had quickly spread about a man systematically destroying numerous men, and the Chinese had come to investigate. One of those men, a man with a ragged scar marking his face, had looked familiar.

  Grayson stumbled to a stop when Felicia suddenly stopped moving. He tugged on her hand, his gaze roaming around the alley, searching for danger, but for some reason, the stubborn lady refused to budge.

  “Felicia, this is no time to dawdle.”

  “I’m not dawdling. A rat just ran over my foot.”

  He switched his attention to her and was surprised to feel a trace of amusement flow over him. Felicia was standing in the midst of the filthy alley, hitching up her skirt as she peered at her feet. Ale was dripping from her hair, she was missing her hat, and she had a look of clear horror on her face.

  “You just took on a man three times your size with nothing more than a tankard of ale, and yet you’re concerned about a rat?”

  She dropped her skirt, shuddered, and lifted her chin. “I loathe rats. They carry diseases, and those diseases can be entirely more deadly than one inebriated man.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t see any rats, so we really must get on our way.”

  Her expression turned stubborn. “They’re just waiting to ambush me, the rats, and it’s not as if I can blame them. I probably smell horrible, and you must realize that rats are attracted to odors.”

  “We really don’t have time for this.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll tell you once I get you to safety.”

  “But what about the rats?”

  Grayson narrowed his eyes. “Could you, for once, try to refrain from being difficult?”

  “They scare me.”

  Three little words were all it took to completely vanquish the rage that lingered in his veins. Felicia was looking back at him, her eyes huge and her lips trembling slightly, and he wasn’t up for the task of resisting her. He moved closer, scooped her up into his arms, ignoring her sharp intake of breath, and began striding down the alley.

  “This is hardly proper,” she muttered.

  “I don’t think anyone will see us, and just to refresh your memory, it was hardly proper for you to enter that pub in the first place.”

  A soft sigh was her only response before she put an arm around his neck and seemed to snuggle closer to him, her movement causing him to get a distinct sniff of ale mixed with something that was all Felicia.

  The something that was all Felicia began to distract him, but knowing they were still in danger, he forced the distraction aside and increased his pace.

  “Who were those Chinese men back in the pub?”

  “I’ll tell you once we get to Theodore’s office.”

  Felicia’s hand tightened around his neck. “We need to involve Theodore in this?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Good heavens, Grayson, you really do have a past.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  Felicia relaxed her grip. “I suppose we do. Although, I have to say, your past seems to be far more interesting than mine.”

  “Don’t envy me my past, Felicia. It was more reprehensible than interesting.”

  “And those Chinese men in the pub have something to do with your reprehensibl
e past?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Felicia lapsed into silence, but it only lasted a moment. “Do you think they came over to the pub from that opium den?”

  “Please tell me you didn’t considering going into Posey’s.”

  He felt Felicia’s breath against his throat when she let out a huff of annoyance. “Of course not, although I have to admit, I was curious. If you must know, at first I thought it might be a flower shop, until that large cloud of smoke poured out the door when someone opened it. That’s when I figured out it was an opium den.”

  Grayson came to a stop and looked down at her. “You thought it was a flower shop?”

  “Because of the name . . . Posey’s. You know—flowers, bouquets . . . There’s no need to look at me that way, Grayson. It was a mistake anyone could make, but after I figured out what the place really was, I didn’t consider allowing my curiosity to get the better of me. An opium den is hardly a respectable haunt for a lady.”

  “The entirety of Mott Street is hardly a respectable haunt for a lady, yet that didn’t stop you from traveling up and down it—speaking to ladies of the night and then traveling to that theater and . . . ”

  The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to call them back. Felicia’s eyes were gleaming with something indescribable, and her cheeks were flushed.

  “So you were following me?”

  “Maybe.” He began walking again, trying to ignore the satisfied smile on Felicia’s face.

  “I thought perhaps you might have been. I mean, really, how else could you have found me in that pub?”

  “How else indeed, but, tell me, what possessed you to travel to this part of the city without a proper escort?”

  “I travel around parts like this all the time on my own. I’ve been doing it for years. No one ever pays me any mind.”

  “They were paying you mind today.”

  He looked down and saw that, instead of looking concerned, she looked rather delighted. “It must be my new wardrobe.”

  It was certainly true that wearing gowns that accentuated her figure was one of the reasons she was drawing attention, but there was something else about her now that drew even more interest. It seemed to him that with the abandonment of her old fashions, she’d gained confidence and a desire to embrace the world head-on.