by Shana Galen
“I do. Do you have any available?”
“Course. I’ll give you the best room in the house, I will. Just let me wake that lazy husband o’ mine. Once he’s up, it’s all yours.” And off she went.
Dane blinked. “Does she mean to give us her own room?”
Marlowe shrugged. “It’s probably the best one they have. Don’t worry,” she said, gesturing to an empty table. “We won’t be here long enough to inconvenience them, and you’re paying them for it. I wouldn’t chouse Barbara. She’s a friend.”
Dane put his hand on the table and then lifted it again, rubbing his newly sticky fingers together. “What do we do now? Wait?”
She nodded and leaned back in her chair, looking as though she was quite accustomed to waiting. With the cap covering her long dark hair, and the boys’ clothing, she didn’t look at all like the woman he’d danced with at the Abingdon ball just last night. Her vivid blue eyes were shadowed by her cap, and she kept them down, seeming to know they might give her away.
Had he ever thought she would make a charming countess? Perhaps he hadn’t voiced the idea aloud, but the notion had crossed his mind. She was the first woman he’d ever met who aroused any interest beyond a night of fleeting pleasure. He genuinely liked her, and seeing her in this environment, he respected her. It could not have been easy to survive under these conditions, but she’d done it. She was fearless, confident, and cunning. He’d never met a woman like her, and he didn’t think he ever would again.
His thoughts ended abruptly when the man covered with a fine layer of dirt and stinking of something rotten took the empty chair at their table.
Marlowe looked up. “Go away, Bentoit.”
“Why? I’m just being polite. Haven’t seen you around for awhile, Marlowe. Found a new game?”
“That’s not your business.”
“Maybe your friend can help me with my business. Maybe he has friends who need the services of a man like me.” Bentoit gestured to Dane.
“No, he doesn’t.”
Dane cleared his throat, which itched from the smoke in the room. Finally, a man who was engaged in labor. Dane felt he should take an interest. “What sort of work do you do, Mr. Bentoit?”
His chest puffed up. “Resurrection man, my lord. The best there is.”
“Resurrection man?”
“He’s a grave robber,” Marlowe interjected. “The worst of the worst. I don’t know why Barbara allows you in here. Why don’t you go to the Fortune of War with the rest of your kind?”
Bentoit sniffed. “Stinks too much.”
“You stink too much,” Barbara said, coming up behind them. “Off with you.”
Grumbling, Bentoit shuffled off. Barbara curtsied again. “Your room is ready, my lord.”
“Thank you.” Grave robbers? Pickpockets? Dane felt as though he’d stepped into another world. He supposed he had. He rose and followed Marlowe and Barbara into an even darker section of the building. Barbara held a candle, or they would have been plunged into utter darkness. At the end of a long hallway, she opened a door and revealed a small room with a hastily made bed, a chair piled with clothes, and a scarred wardrobe.
“’Ere it is then,” she said, looking pleased with herself. “If you need anything, just call.”
Marlowe stepped inside, but Dane hesitated. “Is there a lamp?”
“No,” Barbara said, “but you can ’ave me candle if you want to pay extra.”
“No,” Marlowe said at the same time Dane said, “Yes.” He gave Marlowe a look. “Yes,” he reiterated and took the candle from Barbara. She left, shutting the door behind her, and Dane held the candle aloft then quickly lowered it again. Better if he didn’t see the room closely. “Do you think we might at least request clean sheets?”
Marlowe shook her head. “It’s your coin.”
“I don’t like filth or darkness.”
“Get used to them,” she said. “Seven Dials has more than its fair share of both, and not much else.”
“How did you live here?”
She shrugged, pushed the clothes off the chair, and sat. “It’s not so hard if you don’t know any better. The things you have—your food, your beds, your”—she seemed to flounder—“your carpets. I didn’t know people lived like that. I’d been in houses when Satin gave me a better-racket, but they were nothing like your house. Now I wonder how I’ll go back.”
“You’re not going back,” Dane said. “After we rid the world of Satin, you’re never coming back here.”
She stared at him for a long time. “You mean if Lord and Lady Lyndon claim me.”
No, that was not what Dane had meant at all. “I said never, and I meant never.”
“Oh, really? And where will I live? With you?”
Dane realized he had not thought this out. He’d spoken from emotion rather than logic, which was not like him at all. “I am certain I could find you a place to live.”
Her brows rose. “As your mistress? I’m no courtesan, and I’m not going to be paid to bed you or any man.”
“That’s not what I meant. You must know I would never suggest that.”
“And you must know I have no choice but to come back here and live as I was.”
Now he was annoyed. “You prefer thieving to honest work?”
“Honest work? How much do you pay your maids annually? Six pounds? Eight? I can make that in a month—in a night, if all goes well. I could make more than that as a beggar. Why do you think so many take to the streets, begging? Because honest work is hardly honest when the only one profiting is the rich man who owns the workplace.”
She was right. Dane knew it, and he hated to accept it. Even if she had been a man, she had no skills, and without those, she could hardly expect to find decent employment. His opponents in Parliament had often argued as much, but he’d drowned them out or turned a deaf ear. He couldn’t ignore the truth any longer.
“I have no other choice,” she said, finally.
“We will find you another choice.”
A soft knock sounded on the door, and Dane looked at Marlowe, who already had her dagger in hand. “Who is it?” she asked.
“A friend.” It was a man’s voice, which made Dane nervous. Barbara was supposed to fetch them if and when Satin or one of his cubs arrived at the public house.
Marlowe did not seem troubled. Her face broke into a beatific smile that all but stunned Dane, and she rushed to the door. She flung it open and then threw herself into the arms of the man on the other side. Dane immediately wanted to kill the swine. Perhaps the man felt some of Dane’s animosity, because his gaze met Dane’s. He was tall and thin, with dark hair and threadbare clothes. His skin was rather dark from either dirt or being outdoors a great deal, and he had a vicious scar across one temple, dipping into a dark eyebrow. He looked young, though not as young as Marlowe.
“Gideon, I presume,” Dane said.
The man sneered at him. “What do you know about it?” Marlowe had stepped back, and he looked down at her. “Who’s this gentry cove? A new bubble?”
“No.” Marlowe glanced back at Dane, and he noticed she didn’t move out of the other man’s embrace. Dane had the urge to snatch her back. He did not like to see the other man’s dirty hands on her. “I can explain, but we’d better go somewhere we can talk.”
Dane gestured inside. “You can talk here.”
Marlowe and Gideon shook their heads, and Dane felt heat rise to his face. “If you wish to be alone,” he said, “I can take a walk.”
“No!” Marlowe said quickly. “Half of St. Giles will descend on you. There’s a door leading to an alley in the back. We’ll step out there.” She began to move away, but Dane grabbed her elbow and tugged her back into the room. Gideon moved forward as though to protect her, but she held up a hand, staying the lad.
Dane pulled he
r aside and murmured, “I don’t like you going off with him.”
“He’s an old friend,” she said, casting Gideon a glance. “There’s no danger.”
“He works for Satin.”
She shook her head. “He has no more love for Satin than we do. We need to make certain Sir Brook received our message. I can ask Gideon to do that.”
“You trust him that much?” Dane asked.
“With my life.” She moved away again, but Dane had not released her arm. With a tug, he hauled her up against him.
“Be careful.” He lowered his lips, and without waiting for her permission, captured her mouth with his. The kiss was long and deep and possessive. He was being an absolute idiot. He knew that, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He needed to claim her.
She didn’t kiss him back, but she didn’t resist either, and when they parted, her cheeks were rosy and her breath short. “Why did…you do that?” she asked.
“So you wouldn’t forget me. I’ll be here, waiting for you.” Slowly, he released her arm. She stood pressed against him for a moment longer and then stepped back and fled through the open door. Gideon stood in the doorway, and the two men’s gazes locked. Finally, he moved to follow Marlowe, and Dane sat in the chair and cursed himself for a fool.
***
“What the devil was that?” Gideon asked when they were in the dark alley. It stank more than Marlowe remembered, and was almost as dark as the windowless room, although they were outside, and there should have been light. She was careful to watch her step as she moved away from the door and turned to face Gideon.
“Nothing,” she said. “Where is Satin? Tell me all the news.”
“Satin? All’s snug.” She relaxed slightly. Gideon’s mouth thinned. “With that gentry cove, it didn’t look like nothing to me.”
Marlowe blew out a breath. It hadn’t felt like nothing to her, either. Her heart was still pounding. Perhaps it was Dane himself who made her ill. She had felt fine until he’d kissed her. “I don’t have to explain myself. You’ve kissed plenty of girls.”
“Girls, yes, but I ain’t never kissed one of them.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Oh, you don’t want to talk about this,” Gideon said, mocking her with an upper-class accent. “Too high and mighty for me now.”
“No! I just don’t see how me kissing Dane has anything to do with anything.”
“Then let me explain,” Gideon said, leaning close. “He’s one of them. He’ll use you and discard you. I seen it a ’undred times.”
“I have too. Do you think I’m that stupid? I’d never fall into that trap. I’m not his ladybird.”
“Then why did he kiss you?”
She shrugged. It was a question she kept asking herself. “I don’t know.”
“You may not want to be his ladybird, but he has other ideas.”
“Then he’ll be sorely disappointed.”
Gideon nodded, studying her face. “You’re pretty,” he said finally. Marlowe felt the heat explode in her cheeks, and she ducked her head.
“Have you been drinking?” she asked.
Gideon tipped her chin up. “No. I mean, I always knew it, but now that I see you without all the dirt, I see how fine you really are. I see why he wants you.”
She snorted. “You never did.” With a gasp, she covered her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but now she couldn’t take it back. And now he knew that she’d cared for him as more than just a friend. Did she still feel that way? All she could seem to think of lately was Dane.
Gideon shook his head. “Because I was never good enough for you.”
“Oh, and he’s too good.”
“Do you think he’s going to marry you?”
“Of course not! He’s an earl. He lives in Mayfair.”
Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “So he’s the one. I thought so.”
“What does that mean?”
“Satin is down. He’s been watching you.”
“I know. He found me in the garden at the duchess’s ball.” Gideon gave her an incomprehensible look, and Marlowe laughed. “I know. Can you imagine it? Me, at a ball!”
“It’s not so hard, if I picture you in a dress.”
“Satin found me and threatened me. He wants to crack the earl’s house, and he wants my help.”
“But you’re in love with the earl and don’t want to help.”
“Don’t be daft! I’m not in love with him! But I don’t want to rook from him either. He’s…different. And his sister is kind and sweet. I don’t want to hurt them.” She glanced behind her. “And I’m tired of being Satin’s crony. I know a way to get rid of him.”
Gideon sucked in a breath. “You’re going to find yourself in an eternity box.”
“I’m dead anyway,” she said. “Satin will never let me go. He’d kill me before he let me go free, and if I stay with him, how long until he goes into one of his rages and kills me, like he did Sammy or Zachariah?”
Gideon’s gaze lowered to the ground. They never spoke the names of the dead out loud. Never talked about what happened when one crossed Satin, but they’d all seen the boys beaten to bloody mush then dumped in the river like trash.
“I don’t need to marry Dane,” Marlowe said. “I have another chance. Remember that Bow Street Runner? The one who thought I was Elizabeth? He’s Dane’s brother. He thinks I’m the lost daughter of the Marquess of Lyndon.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know, but I want the chance to find out.” She paused and swallowed. “Will you row in my boat?”
Gideon took a deep breath and let it out. He pushed his hands in his pockets and toed the ground. “Tell me your game, and I’ll do what I can.”
She hugged him, but he didn’t hug her back. Quickly, she summarized the plan, and Gideon nodded. “It might work. Will the Runner agree?”
“He’s Dane’s brother. We sent him a note to meet us tomorrow night. Will you see whether he received it?”
Gideon looked as though he might choke. “You want me to look for a Runner?”
“He can’t bone you for associating with Satin.” But Runners did all sorts of unscrupulous things, and Gideon knew it as well as she. She would just have to hope her instincts about Brook were not wrong.
“I’ll go. Will you still be here when I get back?”
She nodded. “We rented Barbara’s room.”
Gideon’s brows rose. “A bed and everything. You’re moving up in the world.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. Her skin tingled, but she didn’t feel ill. She also didn’t feel sparks.
“Keep your eyes open, Marlowe.”
“I always do.”
“Not just with Satin, with your gentry cove too.”
She waved his advice away. “I can handle him.” She started for the door back inside the public house, but Gideon stepped in front of her.
“One last thing. I don’t think he’s too good for you. If he won’t make you his comfortable importance, then he’s not good enough.” And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the alley.
***
Gideon strolled along the familiar streets of London, hands in his pockets and head down. He wanted anyone who noticed him to see a man strolling, not looking for attention or trouble. He didn’t know where this Brook might be found, but he thought the office of the Runners on Bow Street, across from the Brown Bear flash ken, a good place to start.
He wasn’t looking for a racket, but it was hard not to see opportunities as he walked. There was a man who would make an easy bubble. There was a woman whose wipe he could have had without blinking an eye. But Gideon ignored the impulse to take advantage of the easy game. He wasn’t a rook at heart. He’d wanted to stay alive, and he’d become a thief, but it was out of necessity, not bec
ause he loved to bilk. Most of the time he thought about his game later and hoped they didn’t need the coins he’d dived for or the items he’d filched. He always felt remorse for what he’d taken. Not that he’d ever admit it. Hot coals to the bottoms of his feet wouldn’t have persuaded him to admit to such a weakness.
So it wasn’t hard now to ignore the opportunities to take what wasn’t his. He couldn’t stop himself from noticing them, but he didn’t have to act. In any case, he had a mission. He’d promised Marlowe he’d find this Sir Brook. He must have been an idiot to agree to go to Bow Street’s office, but it wouldn’t be the first time he was an idiot for Marlowe.
He’d been in love with her since the first time he saw her. How could he not be? She had those huge blue eyes, and when she looked at him, his heart clenched in his chest. He’d taught her everything he knew about diving and the rest of the rackets. She didn’t need to be told a thing twice, and after she learned all he had to teach, she taught him a few things.
He loved watching her work. Loved watching her laugh. Loved watching her sleep—that was where his idiocy came in. He’d spent many an hour when he should have been sleeping, watching her. And when she’d finally asked him to kiss her, he’d been as nervous as a corny-faced virgin. Kissing her had been everything he’d imagined—and he’d imagined it quite a lot—and more. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her, though he’d made himself go slowly.
It hadn’t taken more than two or three times kissing her before he realized she wasn’t affected like he was. She must have found his kisses pleasant, but her cheeks weren’t flushed, her heart wasn’t pounding, her breath wasn’t gone. He was in an agony of desire every time he was near her, but she was blissfully unaffected. So he’d told her they didn’t have a spark, and ended things before they’d begun. There were other women, and he lost himself in a few of those, trying to forget Marlowe.
He almost thought he’d done it, too, until she opened Barbara’s door, and Gideon had seen him standing there. And then all the feelings had rushed back, and Gideon had wanted to kill the nob, because Gideon could see how Marlowe looked at the swell. She was in love with him. All the things he’d wanted her to feel for him, she felt for that swell, who probably didn’t deserve her. Who probably thought she was just some rook he could use and discard.