A Kiss In The Dark (24 page)

“Sally!” Deirdre dropped to her knees, heedless of the expensive muslin material of her carriage dress, and gathered the terrier into her arms. “Tristan, it’s Sally! And she’s hurt!”

Tristan joined Deirdre on the sidewalk, bending down to run a gentle hand over the dog’s furry body, examining her for injuries.

“She seems to be all right,” he pronounced, smiling as Sally yipped and swiped his cheek with her rough tongue in gratitude. “A few cuts and a hurt paw, but nothing life-threatening.”

“Thank goodness,” Deirdre breathed, nuzzling her nose in the terrier’s bristly fur. “You poor dear. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry about your master.”

A sudden loud whistle echoed down the sidewalk, and the crowd instantly started to disperse.

“It’s the watch,” Lilah hissed, gesturing to the grim-faced little man hurrying down the street toward the grisly scene. “We’d better clear off.”

“You’re right.” Deirdre rose with the terrier still nestled in her arms. Casting one last glance in the direction of Mouse’s body, she hugged Sally fiercely, feeling the strength of her newfound resolve wash over her.

“It will be all right, Sally,” she whispered for the dog’s ears alone, ignoring the tears that returned to blur her vision. “I’ll take care of you from now on. And I promise we’ll find the ones who did this to Mouse.”

She paused for a moment, then lifted her chin with defiant determination. “And we’ll make them pay.”

“I
did it!”

Peter couldn’t hide his grin as Emily stepped in front of him, brandishing a long length of scarf that up until a moment ago had been dangling from his back pocket.

She looked so proud and pleased with herself that he didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d felt the tug the second she’d pulled it free.

“Well done,” he praised, taking the scarf from her outstretched hand. “Keep it up and you’ll be a master pickpocket in no time.”

Despite the delighted flush that pinkened her cheeks, she shook her head. “Thank you, but I rather doubt it. I could never hope to be as good as you, no matter how long I keep at it.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Wiv enough practice you could nip from Barnaby Flynt ’imself and ’im never feel a thing.”

At his words, Emily’s face paled, and she ducked her head, hiding her expression. “I—I suppose so.”

Bloody, bloody hell! He hadn’t meant to remind her of her situation. She’d been such a game little thing so far, readily donning the clothes Nat had left out for her and setting off with Peter early that morning with a cheerful and jaunty attitude.

Not that her disguise would have fooled anyone who looked too close, he thought, studying her surreptitiously. Even with her petite form hidden by the baggy shirt and trousers and her blond curls tucked up under a grimy cap, there could be no denying her gender. Her long, lush lashes, Cupid’s bow mouth, and creamy complexion gave her away.

It was part of the reason he’d chosen to remain close to the hideout, confining their lessons to the back alleys and streets nearby. The fewer people who saw her, the better, especially with the reward Flynt was offering.

Tucking the scarf back into his pocket, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready to ’ead back yet?”

Her gaze flew up to meet his, her delicate chin set at a stubborn angle he was beginning to recognize. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to try lifting the scarf a few more times.”

He glanced skyward. It had to be getting on toward noon, and they’d already stayed out longer than he’d intended. But if it would keep her mind off everything that had happened to her, he didn’t mind at all.

“Why not?” He gave her a wink. “Go to it.”

As she nodded and moved around behind him, he closed his eyes, letting his mind drift.

Truth to tell, he’d enjoyed himself far more with Emily today than he would have expected. Not wanting to break his promise to Lady R by picking the pocket of a real mark, he’d demonstrated the various techniques by using Emily as a stand-in and the tattered scarf as the lift object. She’d watched intently, seeming fascinated by his ability to snatch the item every time without her feeling it. Her admiration filled him with an astounding sense of accomplishment.

She wasn’t at all the silly, spoiled girl one would expect from her obviously fancy background, he mused. After hearing her story last night, he’d been surprised to find he could identify with her in many ways. No, he wasn’t wealthy or privileged, and more than likely he never would be. He’d never had a governess. But he certainly knew what it was like to feel ignored and unwanted. His own mother had never had much use for him as far back as he could remember. Of course, his mother had been a prostitute who hadn’t had the slightest idea who his father was and who had kicked him out on his own at the age of seven, but he guessed the principle was the same.

“I did it again!”

At Emily’s triumphant exclamation, Peter gave a start and whirled around to find her once more holding the scarf aloft, smiling from ear to ear.

“Bleedin’ ’ell!” She truly had done it, and he hadn’t felt even the tiniest nudge. Of course, he’d been distracted, but still …

He caught her by the arms and swung her around in a circle, laughing. “That was bloody brilliant!”

“I wouldn’t say brilliant, but it’s all thanks to you.” She gazed up at him from under lowered lashes. “I have an excellent teacher.”

Peter froze, his hands still gripping her arms as he looked down at her in consternation. Was the little miss actually flirting with him? The very idea was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

“Peter!”

The anxious voice broke the spell that seemed to hover over them, and they both looked up to see Miles running toward them, red-faced and gasping for air.

Peter was immediately filled with concern. “Miles, what is it?”

Panting, the boy leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees, taking a moment to catch his breath before speaking. “Nat sent me. Something ’appened. ’E needs you to come back right away.”

Peter didn’t hesitate. “All right. Let’s go.” Grabbing Emily’s hand, he started off in the direction of home at a swift trot, with Miles trailing along behind.

By the time they reached the hideout, Peter was practically champing at the bit, wondering what could be wrong. He’d been unable to get much out of Miles, who kept muttering something nonsensical about Lady R and a giant.

Entering the building with Emily in tow, he was greeted at the door by Nat, who led them to a far corner away from the other boys and the hum of activity.

“Lady R was ’ere,” he told Peter, his face grave.

“Lady R?”

“She was looking for Emily.”

Stunned, Peter glanced over his shoulder at the girl behind him. “You know Lady R?”

She looked confused. “Who?”

“Lady Rotherby.”

“No. I’ve never heard the name before in my life.”

“Well, she seemed to know you,” Nat informed her. “She said you were the sister of a friend.”

“I suppose it’s possible she could be acquainted with my brother, but I’ve never heard him mention her.” She shrugged. “Not that he ever tells me much of anything.”

“What did you tell ’er?” Peter asked Nat, struggling to keep the tension out of his voice.

“I put ’er off the best I could. We all did. But I don’t think she believed us. You can bet she’ll be back.”

Emily bit her lip and clutched Peter’s sleeve. “That’s it, then. I shall have to leave at once. If she suspects I’m here—”

“Wait a minute.” Peter covered her hand with his. “No one’s going anywhere. I doubt she’ll be back tonight. But even if she does return, Lady R’s a good sort. I don’t think she’ll peach on you if you tell ’er the whole story. She might even ’elp us.”

“But I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you.”

“You won’t.”

“Speak for yourself.” Jack suddenly materialized next to them, his mouth twisted into a menacing scowl. “I’d say she’s caused enough trouble to last a bloody lifetime.”

“Oh, go tip a pike, Jack,” Nat groused, glaring at him. “Nobody asked you.”

The older boy ignored him, turning to Peter with a sly expression. “I’ll wager she didn’t bother to mention she’s the daughter of an earl, did she?”

“An earl?” Peter’s shocked gaze once again flew to Emily, who avoided his eyes by quickly ducking her head.

“That’s right. She’s a real lady, this one.” Jack took a step closer to her. “
Lady
Emily.”

Peter stepped into his path. “I’ve told you before, Jack. Leave ’er alone.”

“Leave ’er alone? Do you know what sort of reward we could get for turning ’er over to ’er brother?” A malicious grin spread over Jack’s face. “Or we could give ’er to Flynt. We shouldn’t ’ave any trouble getting ’im to double the blunt ’e’s offering once we tell ’im who she is.”

Peter felt Emily stiffen beside him, her terror palpable. A soft sound of distress escaped her lips. His temper surging, Peter gave Jack a shove, sending him stumbling back a few paces.

“No one is turning ’er over to anyone,” he growled. “Do you understand?”

When the older boy didn’t answer, merely raised his chin mutinously, Peter reached out and caught him by the shirt collar, giving him a shake for good measure as his voice rose to a dangerous level. “Do you understand, Jack?”

Silence descended as the other boys gradually became aware of what was unfolding on the far side of the room. One by one, they turned away from their tasks to observe the scene with avid interest.

Jack shot them all a contemptuous look before jerking himself from Peter’s hold and lifting his hand to his forehead in a mocking salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.” His voice dripped with scorn, and he bared his teeth in a grim caricature of a smile before pivoting and stalking off to his usual place by the fire.

Damn him! Peter took a deep breath, struggling to rein in the worst of his ire. He was very swiftly coming to the end of his patience with Jack and his snide attitude. It was a miracle he’d put up with it this long. And if the sot didn’t quit tormenting Emily …

“That’s telling ’im, Peter!”

Miles’s voice drew his attention, and Peter looked up to find the rest of the boys still watching him.

He waved his hand in an impatient gesture. “All right, you lot. You can stop gaping now and go back to what you were doing.”

They obeyed without hesitation, and as the soothing murmur of voices and activity resumed around them, Peter turned to face Emily.

She stood as still as a statue, her shadowed eyes regarding him with trepidation and uncertainty.

Unable to bear her stricken expression, he approached her and reached out to capture her hands in his. The ice-cold chill of her skin alarmed him. “It’s all right, Emily. No one’s turning you over to Flynt. I promise.”

“I’m so sorry, Peter.”

“For what?”

“For not being completely honest with you. For not telling you that my brother is an earl. I know I should have, but … I was afraid you would treat me differently, that you wouldn’t want me here. Don’t be angry with me.”

Her beseeching look tore at his heart. “I’m not angry, and it doesn’t matter to me who your brother is. I don’t care if ’e’s the bloody king of England ’imself. You’re a friend, and I don’t turn my back on friends.”

She offered him a grateful smile, a smile so shy and sweet that it stole his breath. He stood there for a long moment, unable to tear his gaze from hers.

Then someone cleared his throat.

Dropping Emily’s hands and taking a step back, Peter glanced over his shoulder to find Nat waiting expectantly. The other boy had been so quiet that Peter had almost forgotten he was still there.

“I’m sorry, Peter, but there’s something else.”

“What is it, Nat?”

“Lady R had a stranger with ’er.”

The news was enough to send Peter’s eyebrows winging upward. “A stranger?” Lady R had never brought anyone with her to the Rag-Tags’ hideout besides Cullen and, occasionally, Lilah. What could this mean?

“Yeah. She said ’e was ’er footman, but I don’t know. There was something about ’im …”

“What did ’e look like?”