smile. "But I came all the way to deliver those letters."
"For your own benefit as much as mine. A man doesn't get to the top by bein' a fool. Gavin Hunt set you up to this—'e wants me to 'elp defeat our common enemy so 'e can get 'is little chit back."
Marianne swallowed. "You know about Percy?"
"I know about everything that 'appens in the rookery," Black said flatly. "So don't go tryin' to pull the wool over my eyes, my lady."
So much for appealing to his self-interest. Onto the second line of attack. Now what is his Achilles' heel?
She rose and curtsied again. "You are not only powerful, but intelligent, Mr. Black. I should never presume to deceive you in any way."
He snorted, but she could tell her flattery pleased him. "Best that you don't."
"And it is precisely because you are so wise and influential that I wish to ask a boon of you," she said, keeping her eyes wide and guileless.
"Spit it out, then."
She drew another breath. "It concerns Kitty Barnes." Seeing the bushy brows lower again, she plunged on. "I understand that Mrs. Barnes owes you a vast debt and that she fled Town because of it. I would like to request that you allow her to return so that I may speak with her."
"What do you want with that blowsy bunter, eh?"
"'Tis a private matter."
"Private my arse. You're askin' me a favor, my lady—an' a big one at that." Black pointed the sparkling knob of his walking stick first at her, then at the door. "You'll tell me the nature o' your business, or you can take your leave."
He had her cornered; there was no place to run. Her only escape would be through the truth.
Through a constricted throat, she said, "Seven years ago, my husband stole my bastard daughter from me and sold her to Mrs. Barnes. Ever since his death, I've been searching for my little girl. Kitty Barnes was the last person seen with her."
Black's eyes widened. "Blimey. Your lord was a sick bastard, weren't 'e?"
"Indeed." Marianne released a breath. "Will you help me?"
"Why should I? Ain't none o' my business, is it."
Her heart plummeted. "You're a father, Mr. Black. You understand what it is to love a daughter. To do anything within your power to see her safe from harm."
Something flickered in his obsidian gaze. "Anything, you say?"
Marianne's mouth went dry. The third defense. No more lines left to cross. Her gaze flitted to the riding crops, and her insides quivered. She told herself that she could endure any depravity, no matter how despicable. She had survived years of Draven's abuse; what difference would it make to barter what remained of her tattered soul?
She was a woman with nothing left to lose ... and a child to regain.
"Anything," she said.
Black nodded. "Alright, then."
"Alright? Then you'll … help me?"
"I'll let that bitch Barnes drag 'er arse back. And I'll 'ave 'er brought to you."
"Thank you, Mr. Black." Inhaling back the tears of relief, Marianne forced herself to ask, "And what shall I offer in return?"
His black gaze did not waver. "Don't know as yet. But one day soon I'll come lookin' for my due, an' I'll 'ave your word that you'll fulfill your end o' the bargain."
A deal with the devil. Though her stomach churned, she didn't hesitate.
"You have it," she said.
ELEVEN
The gentleman waited in the shadows as the door swung open on creaky hinges. The cutthroat, who went by the name of Murdoch, staggered into the filthy hovel, bringing with him a malodorous mix of gin, urine, and God only knew what else. The gentleman fought the urge to bring a handkerchief to his nostrils. Instead, he struck a match and lit the tallow stub upon the table.
"What the bloody 'ell?" Murdoch squinted at the sudden light. "What're you doin' 'ere?"
The gentlemen rose, stretching his lips into a smile. "I came to check in on your progress. Haven't heard from you for days now, Murdoch. You took my gold but you've yet to produce results."
The cutthroat blinked bloodshot eyes. "It ain't like I 'aven't tried," he said,
"For your own benefit as much as mine. A man doesn't get to the top by bein' a fool. Gavin Hunt set you up to this—'e wants me to 'elp defeat our common enemy so 'e can get 'is little chit back."
Marianne swallowed. "You know about Percy?"
"I know about everything that 'appens in the rookery," Black said flatly. "So don't go tryin' to pull the wool over my eyes, my lady."
So much for appealing to his self-interest. Onto the second line of attack. Now what is his Achilles' heel?
She rose and curtsied again. "You are not only powerful, but intelligent, Mr. Black. I should never presume to deceive you in any way."
He snorted, but she could tell her flattery pleased him. "Best that you don't."
"And it is precisely because you are so wise and influential that I wish to ask a boon of you," she said, keeping her eyes wide and guileless.
"Spit it out, then."
She drew another breath. "It concerns Kitty Barnes." Seeing the bushy brows lower again, she plunged on. "I understand that Mrs. Barnes owes you a vast debt and that she fled Town because of it. I would like to request that you allow her to return so that I may speak with her."
"What do you want with that blowsy bunter, eh?"
"'Tis a private matter."
"Private my arse. You're askin' me a favor, my lady—an' a big one at that." Black pointed the sparkling knob of his walking stick first at her, then at the door. "You'll tell me the nature o' your business, or you can take your leave."
He had her cornered; there was no place to run. Her only escape would be through the truth.
Through a constricted throat, she said, "Seven years ago, my husband stole my bastard daughter from me and sold her to Mrs. Barnes. Ever since his death, I've been searching for my little girl. Kitty Barnes was the last person seen with her."
Black's eyes widened. "Blimey. Your lord was a sick bastard, weren't 'e?"
"Indeed." Marianne released a breath. "Will you help me?"
"Why should I? Ain't none o' my business, is it."
Her heart plummeted. "You're a father, Mr. Black. You understand what it is to love a daughter. To do anything within your power to see her safe from harm."
Something flickered in his obsidian gaze. "Anything, you say?"
Marianne's mouth went dry. The third defense. No more lines left to cross. Her gaze flitted to the riding crops, and her insides quivered. She told herself that she could endure any depravity, no matter how despicable. She had survived years of Draven's abuse; what difference would it make to barter what remained of her tattered soul?
She was a woman with nothing left to lose ... and a child to regain.
"Anything," she said.
Black nodded. "Alright, then."
"Alright? Then you'll … help me?"
"I'll let that bitch Barnes drag 'er arse back. And I'll 'ave 'er brought to you."
"Thank you, Mr. Black." Inhaling back the tears of relief, Marianne forced herself to ask, "And what shall I offer in return?"
His black gaze did not waver. "Don't know as yet. But one day soon I'll come lookin' for my due, an' I'll 'ave your word that you'll fulfill your end o' the bargain."
A deal with the devil. Though her stomach churned, she didn't hesitate.
"You have it," she said.
ELEVEN
The gentleman waited in the shadows as the door swung open on creaky hinges. The cutthroat, who went by the name of Murdoch, staggered into the filthy hovel, bringing with him a malodorous mix of gin, urine, and God only knew what else. The gentleman fought the urge to bring a handkerchief to his nostrils. Instead, he struck a match and lit the tallow stub upon the table.
"What the bloody 'ell?" Murdoch squinted at the sudden light. "What're you doin' 'ere?"
The gentlemen rose, stretching his lips into a smile. "I came to check in on your progress. Haven't heard from you for days now, Murdoch. You took my gold but you've yet to produce results."
The cutthroat blinked bloodshot eyes. "It ain't like I 'aven't tried," he said,
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