A Kiss In The Dark (15 page)

Mrs. McLean shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “Oh, no, my lady! I can’t—”

“If you won’t tell me, then I shall simply give you the whole thing.” Deirdre reached out and caught the woman’s hand, pressing the bag firmly into her palm. “Come now. You must accept it or you shall hurt my feelings.”

A lone tear spilled free and ran down the woman’s plump cheek as her fingers closed around the bag. “I don’t know what to say, my lady. Things have been hard since they took my Angus.” She bowed her head for a moment, then looked back up, her expression determined. “You must tell me what I can do to repay you.”

Deirdre tilted her head in a considering manner, then her face lit up, as if with sudden inspiration. “As a matter of fact, there
is
something you can do for me.” She turned to Tristan. “The portrait, please.”

He didn’t question her; he merely retrieved the picture and handed it over without a word. Mrs. McLean’s stare passed over him with curiosity before focusing on the miniature Deirdre held out to her.

“She’s pretty,” the woman commented. “Who is she?”

“A friend,” Deirdre replied, “and I was wondering if you might have seen her.”

Mrs. McLean brushed aside her tears and scrutinized the portrait more closely before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I don’t believe so.”

Jenna, who was studying the picture over her mother’s shoulder, let out a low whistle. “She looks like the girl Mr. Flynt is looking for.”

At the familiar name, Tristan’s breath seized in his lungs, and the mere mention of it was enough to have Deirdre paling. She focused in on Jenna with fierce intent. “What do you mean?”

The girl shrugged. “Word’s out on the street that Mr. Flynt is looking for a girl wiv golden curls and purple eyes. Don’t know why, but ’e’s offering a reward for anyone who brings ’er to ’im.”

“Flynt?” Tristan spoke up, his voice hoarse with shock. “Barnaby Flynt, the gang leader?”

Jenna nodded.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door with long, furious strides.

Deirdre hurried after him. “Tristan, what are you doing?”

Overwhelmed with fear and anger, he whirled on her. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going back to Bow Street, and this time I’m not leaving until they agree to send every available man out looking for Emily.”

“Tristan, no!”

“Yes, Deirdre!” Her name escaped his lips before he could call it back, but he ignored the slip and plunged on. “What else am I to do? It’s well past noon and we’ve gotten nowhere. There’s a murderer after my sister and I certainly don’t intend to continue running uselessly about the Fields when she could be captured by that monster at any moment.”

“You don’t understand.” She sent a glance in the McLean family’s direction before lowering her voice and gazing up at him pleadingly. “If you do that, you’ll send everyone who might have any useful information into hiding. Not to mention that a man like Barnaby Flynt hasn’t survived around here this long without paying for the privilege.”

His heart skipped a beat. “What are you saying?”

“I’ve always suspected that Barnaby is giving money to the law to turn a blind eye to his activities, and without knowing which officers are honest and which ones are in his pocket, going to them could be dangerous.”

“And you didn’t think to share this with me before?”

“I had hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.” She bit her lip. “But don’t worry, my lord. I have another idea.”

He watched as she looked back over her shoulder. “Jenna, does Dodger Dan have a match planned tonight?”

“Yes, m’lady. At nine o’clock, like always.”

Deirdre’s eyes lit with determination. “My lord, how do you feel about attending a boxing match?”

E
mily sat with her back against the wall in a shadowed corner of the Rag-Tag Bunch’s hideout, her mind awhirl with everything that had happened to her since last night.

For much of the day, she’d remained in this spot, watching the boys as they’d gone about their normal activities. For the most part, they’d kept their distance, appearing to realize she needed time alone to sort out her tangled emotions. Only Benji had ventured near once or twice to stare down at her with wide, curious eyes.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so confused. Only she would have the abominable luck to wind up seeking refuge from a murderer with a band of thieves! One moment she was tempted to slip out and take her chances back on the streets, the next she was convinced the best course of action was to stay right where she was.

Now that night had finally fallen, she was no closer to making a decision. As a matter of fact, she was more befuddled than ever. With a sigh, she brushed a wispy curl back behind her ear and looked up—only to find Peter’s blue gaze locked on her from across the room.

It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him watching her. Slouched in a chair at the edge of the circle of firelight, he sat with his arms crossed in a casual posture, seeming relaxed and at ease with his surroundings. Only the most astute observer would have noticed the alert tilt of his head, the almost tangible aura of watchfulness that hovered about him as he examined her.

She bit her lip and deliberately looked away. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for being on his guard with her, especially after her horrified reaction to the revelation that the boys were thieves and her subsequent withdrawal from them. She certainly hadn’t meant to seem ungrateful. After all, he
had
saved her life. But nothing in her background had prepared her for dealing with this sort of situation, and she had to admit she was at a loss. Not to mention terrified.

What would Tristan think if he could see her now? she wondered. Was he worried about her? Did he miss her? Did he even care that she was gone?

“Are you all right?”

At the sound of the voice coming from so nearby, Emily gave a cry of surprise and jerked her head up to discover Peter standing next to her, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. Somehow he had managed to rise and cross the room so silently that she hadn’t heard his approach.

He paused, then lowered himself to the pallet next to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She placed one hand against her chest in an effort to calm her racing heart. “How do you do that?” When he raised a quizzical brow, she explained further. “Move so quietly. I never hear you coming.”

He gave a shrug. “It’s part of being a thief. You ’ave to learn to move fast and quiet when you’re nipping from someone’s pocket, else you wind up getting caught.”

At this reminder of the boys’ chosen profession, Emily quickly ducked her head. Peter, seeming to sense her discomfort, scooted a bit closer to her.

“You really are safe ’ere,” he assured her, his tone serious. “We’ve been ’ere three months now, and Flynt and ’is gang ’ave yet to find us.”

“I hope you’re right,” she murmured, unable to quell the slight flutter of anxiety she felt in the pit of her stomach.

As she turned to observe the boys grouped around the fireplace, talking and laughing, Peter found himself taking the opportunity her inattention afforded him to study her delicate profile. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. Something about this girl had a very strange effect upon him. The truth was, his first impression of her when she’d rounded that corner and collided with him last night had been much the same as Benji’s. With her long golden hair and fair skin, she looked just like an angel. It had taken his breath away. Dainty and fragile, she seemed much too fine to ever be exposed to the sort of life he lived.

He grimaced and tore his gaze away. As much as he hated to admit it, Jack was right about her. She didn’t belong here. Whatever it was that had sent her running from her home, sooner or later she would get tired of being cold, hungry, and afraid, and she would go back to the family he knew must be searching for her. Things would go back to normal for the Rag-Tag Bunch, and it would be as if she’d never even been here.

To his surprise, he felt a sharp jolt of regret at the thought.

“I’m sorry.”

The hesitant statement pulled Peter from his musings, and he looked up to find Emily watching him shyly.

“Sorry for what?”

“For the way I behaved earlier, when I found out you and the rest of the Rag-Tags were thieves. I had no right to react the way I did when you’ve been so kind to me.”

He sent her a wry smile. “It’s all right. I don’t s’pose you’ve run into many thieves where you come from.”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“’Ave you run away from ’ome, then?”

“In a manner of speaking. Though it certainly hasn’t
felt
much like a home of late.”

“Why?”

Peter’s query startled Emily. It was the first time he’d asked her directly about her background, and she was uncertain how much to tell him. She was very much afraid that if she revealed everything—like the fact that she was an earl’s daughter—he would treat her differently. But at the same time, it was tempting to share her burdens, to finally have someone to confide in.

Straightening her shoulders, she turned to face him. “My father was killed several months ago in a carriage accident, and my brother just recently returned home from abroad in order to see to things.”

“And?”

“And we don’t precisely see eye to eye. He’s much older than I, and he left home right after our mother died. I was only six at the time and I hadn’t seen him since. Now he’s back and everything is changing.”

Peter tilted his head and studied her with genuine interest. “Changing ’ow?”

“My father mostly tended to ignore me when he was alive. He wasn’t around much, and I got used to being on my own, fending for myself. Now all of a sudden I have Tristan telling me what to do and how to do it, thinking he knows what’s best for me when he doesn’t know me at all anymore. It’s infuriating.”

“Is ’e cruel? Does ’e beat you?”

She was shocked at Peter’s question and was certain her expression must convey her astonishment. “Of course not! He would never raise a hand to me.”

“Then I don’t see the problem. Tell ’im ’ow you feel.”

“I’ve tried. He doesn’t listen. He would much rather spend his time looking for a governess to take me off his hands. Never mind that I don’t need one, that I’ve never needed one.”

She told him about the string of governesses her brother had hired in the past few months and her various methods of ridding herself of them. Peter listened attentively, but as she spoke, Emily found herself recalling her actions with a surprising surge of guilt. Perhaps in some cases she had gone too far, she conceded, picturing Mrs. Petersham’s terrified face at finding the snake in her bed. She hadn’t meant to frighten the woman so badly, and she supposed Tristan had every right to his anger, but she hadn’t been able to think of any other way to get through to him. The only time he ever seemed to see her was when she was getting into trouble. He was always so distant, so unapproachable.

“Needless to say, my brother is not very happy with me,” she concluded. “After the incident with Mrs. Petersham, he lost his temper and ordered me to my room like a child. He wouldn’t even listen to my explanations.”

She shook her head and stared down at her hands. “I thought if I left home, even for just a few days, it would prove to him that I’m capable of so much more than he thinks. But apparently all I’m capable of is getting myself in trouble. And the worst part is, it might all be for naught. Tristan is most likely glad I’m gone. It’s not as if my absence ever meant all that much to him before. All I am is an obligation.”

“You’re angry with ’im for leaving you.”

Peter’s astuteness was rather unnerving, and Emily felt a sharp stab of pain as she flashed back to the way she’d felt on the day she’d watched her brother walk away, leaving his past—and her—behind.

She shook it off, however. “Yes, I was. I am. But it’s too late for him to make up for it now. I don’t need him anymore.” She glanced around at her surroundings. “Although I suppose if he could see the trouble I’m in now, he might disagree.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think you’ve done ’alf bad. For a girl, that is.”

Her ire aroused, Emily looked up with a gasp of outrage, ready to do battle on behalf of her gender. One look at the twinkle in Peter’s eyes, however, and her temper instantly deflated as she realized he’d only been teasing her.