that has been lost for centuries.’
‘No!’ The word rang out in the silence and one of the dribbling old gents looked across at us. I lowered my voice.
‘I wasn’t looking at the paint, you idiot. I was looking at the girls – our girls .’ I grabbed his arm tightly. I didn’t care what the old gent thought.
‘Nearly all the missing girls from Paradise were in that painting. Alice too – didn’t you notice her? For Christ’s sake, Lucca, what were you seeing in there? You’re as bad as the rest of them.’
The blood drained from his face. It was like he’d suddenly woken from a dream. Then he moved his hand to his mouth and his shoulders clenched up tight.
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ I carried on, dropping my voice to a whisper as someone sat in the seat next to mine.
‘And I believe I am right in suspecting you to be a young lady.’ The voice was posh and silky with it. I twisted round and found myself staring directly into the eyes of the man next to me. He smiled and extended a gloved hand. ‘Miss Kitty Peck, I believe. The Limehouse Linnet, no less. How extraordinary to find you here.’
Chapter Twelve
I scanned the room. No one else had heard him. Beside me, Lucca stood up quickly and tapped my shoulder. I rose too. I could feel my face burn as the man continued softly.
‘Please don’t disturb yourself, Miss Peck. Your secret is safe – although you must allow me to say how very exciting it is to view two of London’s most topical sensations . . . in the flesh .’ He smiled again, stood up and held his hand forward. I just looked down at it.
‘It is customary for gentlemen to greet each other in this fashion,’ he whispered after a moment, adding, ‘If you refuse to take my hand in such a public place it may cause quite a scene.’
I reached out. His grip was tight and he squeezed as he pumped my arm up and down. ‘Splendid! How surprising to see you here, old fellow .’ His voice was louder now. Then he turned to Lucca and briefly shook his hand too, but he didn’t look at him. He was staring at me all the while.
The man was young, around the same age, I guessed, as Lucca. He was tall with clear, grey eyes and, from what I could see under his hat, reddish gold hair. He was a proper toff too, his gear was top ticket all right – sleek and plush it was, fitted to his frame like a fine lady’s glove. It made our get-up look shabby. Standing next to him, Lucca and I looked exactly what we were – fakers.
Lucca caught my eye and nodded towards the stairs. I took a step back from the young gent, but he laughed and gripped my arm quite hard. ‘Before you go, you really must meet my friends. Now, where are they . . .?’ He turned to the double doors leading back into the room where the painting was on display. He had the nose of a toff too, I noticed, all long and narrow with a bump at the top that made him look like a hawk.
‘Ah, there they are. Edward! John!’ He called out and waved his silver-topped cane at two young men just emerging from the gallery. ‘Come and meet a most interesting acquaintance of mine.’
Lucca tugged at my sleeve, but the gents were over in a second.
‘What an extraordinary work, James. How clever of you to bring us here.’ The speaker, a dark-eyed man with a well-groomed set of whiskers clambering all over his face, continued. ‘But then, you always seem to know the latest thing.’
‘Doesn’t he just? And who do we have here then, James?’ The other man was stockier, fresh-faced and fair. I saw how he flicked his eyes over Lucca and me and then dismissed us. Instead he looked back at the doors where people were still filing out of the room with the painting.
The first gent grinned at his two friends. ‘Allow me to introduce . . .’
‘Lucca Fratelli and my . . . my cousin . . . Joseph,’ Lucca cut in and spoke up for us both. His voice came quick and his accent was thicker than usual. He nodded at the men and offered his hand.
‘No!’ The word rang out in the silence and one of the dribbling old gents looked across at us. I lowered my voice.
‘I wasn’t looking at the paint, you idiot. I was looking at the girls – our girls .’ I grabbed his arm tightly. I didn’t care what the old gent thought.
‘Nearly all the missing girls from Paradise were in that painting. Alice too – didn’t you notice her? For Christ’s sake, Lucca, what were you seeing in there? You’re as bad as the rest of them.’
The blood drained from his face. It was like he’d suddenly woken from a dream. Then he moved his hand to his mouth and his shoulders clenched up tight.
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ I carried on, dropping my voice to a whisper as someone sat in the seat next to mine.
‘And I believe I am right in suspecting you to be a young lady.’ The voice was posh and silky with it. I twisted round and found myself staring directly into the eyes of the man next to me. He smiled and extended a gloved hand. ‘Miss Kitty Peck, I believe. The Limehouse Linnet, no less. How extraordinary to find you here.’
Chapter Twelve
I scanned the room. No one else had heard him. Beside me, Lucca stood up quickly and tapped my shoulder. I rose too. I could feel my face burn as the man continued softly.
‘Please don’t disturb yourself, Miss Peck. Your secret is safe – although you must allow me to say how very exciting it is to view two of London’s most topical sensations . . . in the flesh .’ He smiled again, stood up and held his hand forward. I just looked down at it.
‘It is customary for gentlemen to greet each other in this fashion,’ he whispered after a moment, adding, ‘If you refuse to take my hand in such a public place it may cause quite a scene.’
I reached out. His grip was tight and he squeezed as he pumped my arm up and down. ‘Splendid! How surprising to see you here, old fellow .’ His voice was louder now. Then he turned to Lucca and briefly shook his hand too, but he didn’t look at him. He was staring at me all the while.
The man was young, around the same age, I guessed, as Lucca. He was tall with clear, grey eyes and, from what I could see under his hat, reddish gold hair. He was a proper toff too, his gear was top ticket all right – sleek and plush it was, fitted to his frame like a fine lady’s glove. It made our get-up look shabby. Standing next to him, Lucca and I looked exactly what we were – fakers.
Lucca caught my eye and nodded towards the stairs. I took a step back from the young gent, but he laughed and gripped my arm quite hard. ‘Before you go, you really must meet my friends. Now, where are they . . .?’ He turned to the double doors leading back into the room where the painting was on display. He had the nose of a toff too, I noticed, all long and narrow with a bump at the top that made him look like a hawk.
‘Ah, there they are. Edward! John!’ He called out and waved his silver-topped cane at two young men just emerging from the gallery. ‘Come and meet a most interesting acquaintance of mine.’
Lucca tugged at my sleeve, but the gents were over in a second.
‘What an extraordinary work, James. How clever of you to bring us here.’ The speaker, a dark-eyed man with a well-groomed set of whiskers clambering all over his face, continued. ‘But then, you always seem to know the latest thing.’
‘Doesn’t he just? And who do we have here then, James?’ The other man was stockier, fresh-faced and fair. I saw how he flicked his eyes over Lucca and me and then dismissed us. Instead he looked back at the doors where people were still filing out of the room with the painting.
The first gent grinned at his two friends. ‘Allow me to introduce . . .’
‘Lucca Fratelli and my . . . my cousin . . . Joseph,’ Lucca cut in and spoke up for us both. His voice came quick and his accent was thicker than usual. He nodded at the men and offered his hand.
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