Lady Be Good (23 page)

If you wish to return to hostessing, you need only say the word
, Miss Everleigh had snapped, before dismissing her for the afternoon to see to her own business before they reunited at Paddington Station.

“All I’m saying,” Lilah told Nick, “is that until this business is done, you can’t write to me at all.”

Her uncle shrugged. “She wouldn’t have found any interest in that note, unless she knows how to crack code—in which case, send her my way. I’ve got a project or two I could use a hand with.”

Good Lord. She could just imagine what he’d do with Susie. Like a cat handed a limping mouse, he’d grow bored and shred her in five seconds. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve blended in at Everleigh’s. I do nothing to
draw notice; otherwise I’d never have made it so far. I don’t want anyone getting
curious
about me.”

Old Neddie came over with a pint and a basket of fried oysters. Nick thanked him with a fat coin, far too generous; he owned this place, after all, and could have eaten for free. But it was his strategy to keep his old friends thickly buttered.

He rolled his cigar in his fingers, studying her. “You’ve got a lot of fear in you, Lily. I don’t remember you being so timid.”

By old habit, the words stung. She reminded herself that she wasn’t a part of this world anymore. In her new life, timidity wasn’t a weakness. It was ladylike. “I’ve got something to lose now. But I shouldn’t have to tell
you
that.” He was a fine hypocrite, making her feel guilty about turning her back on her kin, when
he
was trading on threats to manipulate her. “You’re counting on me wanting to keep my position. Otherwise your threats wouldn’t work, and you’d have no hope of getting back those letters.”

“I’ve made no threats today,” he said. “But I thank you for the reminder. You got the letters with you?”

She’d been dreading this question since she’d deciphered his demand for a meeting. “Not yet. But soon.”

He made no reply. He didn’t need to. His silence, and the slight cruel smile that curved his full lips, spoke the threat for him.

“You always stood by your word before,” she said. “Has that changed? The last week of June, you said.”

He sighed, then lifted one finger to signal the barman. “You’ll wet your lips before you go.”

“Why do you need the letters, anyway? None of those men is rich enough to be worth your time. They’re mere vestrymen, not a fat cat among them.”

He glanced back at her, his dark face thoughtful. “Why would you need to know?”

When she’d worked for him, she’d been too young to share fully in his confidences. But he’d trusted her. He’d sometimes even asked her advice. She felt the loss of that now, a funny little pang. It wasn’t only she who’d turned her back here. “Never mind,” she said.

Neddie brought over a mug, slammed it down in front of her, and then stalked off in his usual cheerful way. “You drink it,” she told Nick. “Miss—I can’t go back to work with liquor on my breath.”

“Miss Everleigh wouldn’t like it?” Nick purred.

She caught her breath. There was no way he could know she was working for Miss Everleigh, unless . . .

Cold purled down her spine. “You’ve a spy,” she said. “At the auction house?”

He offered her a gentle smile. “Apart from my dear niece? Why, what a suspicious man it would make me, if I thought you weren’t sufficient.” He picked up the mug, forced it into her hand. “We’ll toast your successes,” he said. “My Lily’s moved up in the world. Assistant to the pretty owner.” He lifted his own drink. “
Sláinte
.”

She barely tasted the ale. “Why? Why would you care what happens at Everleigh’s?”

“You’re there,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I care?”

She didn’t believe for a moment that he worried for her. Not as a habit. Had he been so inclined, he never would have trained her into a thief, and set her on her first job at thirteen years of age. “You’ve no cause to fear for me.”

“No?” He eyed her. “Crossing swords with viscounts, and cozening pretty rich girls . . . you’ve set yourself up for a mighty grand fall, I think.”

“But you’d be glad to see me fall,” she said softly. He’d said it often enough. “My comeuppance. You’ve been waiting for it, haven’t you?”

He sighed. “I’d be glad to see you back where you belong, Lily. So much talent going to waste, while you lick those swells’ boots.” He paused. “Of course, you’ve not been licking boots recently. What kept you away these last few weeks?”

She knew him too well to miss the silken note in his voice. This was the voice he used when interrogating a man, before he turned to force. “You can’t . . . you can’t doubt
me
?”

He ran his finger around the rim of his tankard, considering. “Tell me where you’ve been, and I’ll think on my answer.”

God above. She’d had nightmares about this moment. She didn’t know everything about his business, but she still knew enough. That he’d let her make her own way was something of a miracle—but then, she was his niece. Blood must mean something!

Blood
did
mean something. “I knew you thought me low. But to betray you? Why, you must think me some new form of dirt.”

“Calm yourself.” He took a long sip. “I never accused you.”

“Oh? What did you mean to say, then? Speaking to me as though I’m a—” She could not think of an insult low enough. “A
McGowan
—”

“Here now,” he said curtly. “Lots of money flows through those auction rooms. Would have caught my interest, with or without you. But when you disappear from town without so much as a word, I’m bound to wonder where you went.”

“Well, stop wondering.” She realized she had a stranglehold on her mug, and set it down with a thump. “I was at Lord Palmer’s estate.” No point in lying, when the truth would serve her better. “The man who caught me—he’s the one who got me the position with Miss Everleigh. I’m helping her ready his estate for auction.”

Nick’s expression didn’t alter a whit. “Curious of him,” he said. “Inviting a known thief under his roof.”

“And into his bed, if he has his way.”

Her uncle’s face darkened. “That’s how you’re getting back those notes?”

She felt a spiteful pleasure in his reaction.
This
was what he had driven her to. His own niece. “Maybe so.”

His jaw flexed. He loosed a harsh breath, then growled, “Are you willing?”

She wouldn’t push her revenge further. If Nick thought Palmer meant to force her, he’d go after him, rank be damned. Nick would probably enjoy it the more, for the fact that Palmer was a lord.

But the truth was hard to speak, even so. “Yes,” she muttered. “God help me. I’m too willing.”

He grimaced. “Ah.” He bolted the rest of his drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, then. That’s a different brand of foolishness.”

“Idiocy,” she whispered. “I know it.”

He looked at her narrowly. “You watch out for yourself, Lily. These toffs aren’t like us. Don’t see us as people. He’ll use and discard you without losing a night of sleep.”

“I know it.” She was on her feet, though she didn’t remember how. Relief had brought wings with it; she could see in Nick’s face that he was no longer doubting her. Instead he felt . . . pity.

He stood to walk her out. “You know the way of it, I hope.” He cleared his throat. “To avoid complications, I mean.”

His gruffness made her turn red. Good heavens. He was asking if she knew how to avoid pregnancy. “Yes, yes, of course.”

At the door he paused, one palm pressed flat against the wood. “I mean it,” he said. “I can arrange for you to speak with someone. Peg Mulry would help.”

Peg Mulry had used to watch her when she was small. Now Peg made her living at a high-class brothel. “Please don’t,” she said in a strangled voice, and shoved open the door.

The sudden bright sunlight made Nick squint. “No use in prettiness,” he said curtly. “If it’s a career you want, a child would be the end of it.”

“I know that.” She edged into the open lane. “But thanks so much, Uncle, it’s very kind of you to think of me.”

He laughed at her. “Kind, is it? And now you’re fixing to run away, hands clapped to your ears. Is that how these nobs like their women? Empty-brained dolts?” He fluttered his lashes. “
What’s a cock, m’lord? I’ve never heard of it
.”

“You’re awful!” She turned to stalk toward the high road, catching only at the last instant the way his face hardened.

Too late for warning. A hand closed around her elbow. “What in God’s name,” Palmer bit out, “are you doing here?”

For a single terrible moment, she felt certain that Nick would force a confrontation. His gaze pointed murderously at Palmer’s grip on her arm. “Lord Palmer!” she said loudly. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Nick’s gaze lifted to hers.
Turn away
, she begged him silently.
Just go
.

He went back into the tavern, slamming the door.

“Friend of yours?” Palmer asked.

She tried to pull free, but his grip was like iron. God save her! The streets here were full of eyes. The last thing she needed was a savior coming to intercede on her behalf, and calling her by a name Palmer would not recognize.

She laid her hand atop his, leaning into him in a welcoming manner. “Were you following me?” she asked with a smile.

His lion’s eyes narrowed on her. “Obviously.”

“Then you’ll drive me to Paddington Station?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He glanced back toward the pub. “Perhaps I should introduce myself first.”

No
. Neddie’s was Nick’s home turf. No matter the cause, he would not cede an inch of ground in that place. If Palmer went inside and confronted him, matters would turn ugly in an instant.

“Please,” she said. But he looked mutinous. Changing tactics, she spoke to him as a soldier, quickly. “You’d need men at your back to go into that place. And there’s no call for it, anyway. I can explain.”

After a moment, his posture loosened the slightest degree. “I’m sure you can. Whether you can be truthful is my concern.” But he turned her toward the high road.

At their next step, a piercing cry split the air. A little boy bounced to his feet from a nearby stoop. “It’s Kit!” he cried. “You’re Kit, aren’t you! Look, it’s Kit!”

A ball came bouncing out from an alley. Lilah braced herself. That alley was where the urchins liked to hide from Nick, who would force them to school if he caught them.

Sure enough, in the next moment, a band of children swarmed into the road, surrounding them. “Good God,” Palmer muttered, for they were at the center of a scrum, surrounded by small tugging hands and babbling demands for handshakes, autographs, a spare coin—

This last request occasioned a shocked pause, followed by a flurry of high-pitched accusations. Somebody delivered a knock to the offender’s shoulder that sent him sprawling into the dirt. “Don’t ask him for money,” yelled a little girl. “You dolt, it’s our Kit! He’s a hero!”

“No hitting,” Palmer boomed. The edict cast a spell of silence over the little crowd; a dozen grubby faces turned upward, amazed that their hero would talk to them.

Lilah tried to ease away. Palmer’s grip tightened on her elbow. “Not an inch,” he said softly to her. Then, clearing his throat, he looked over the ragtag crew. “I will be glad to shake your hands. But first you will line up like proper soldiers.”

The band broke into a mad, shoving scramble, cursing at each other in language that caused Palmer’s eyes to widen. What a ludicrous situation! Lilah swallowed her laugh. Overhead, shutters were banging open left and right, men and women hanging out into the street to watch, calling out encouragements. One man added his own hooting cheer for Palmer’s bravery. “Britannia! Britannia!”

The little girl stamped her foot. “Quiet, now,” she told the crew. Then, with a sweet smile at Palmer: “Will that suit, sir?”

The band had managed to arrange themselves in a crooked row. “Excellent,” Palmer said. “Hands out, now. Ready, soldiers?”

Lilah recognized some of the onlookers’ faces above. She found herself holding her breath, praying for their discretion as she was dragged down the line by virtue of Palmer’s grip on her elbow. With his free hand, he dispensed handshakes. “Excellent posture,” he told one freckle-faced admirer. “Chin up, that’s it, that’s very fine,” he said to another.