cannot leave you out here with only your coachman to watch both you and the horses, and I cannot bring you in. I will take you home and then I will—”
“Mr. Knightridge, do you really think I will come to physical harm in that house? With a man of your size and strength beside me? In the middle of the day?”
“It is impossible to say. It would only take four drunken men with knives to cut me down.”
“Dear me, I have indeed been negligent with my own welfare. When I insisted on coming, I just assumed it would take at least
six
drunken men with knives to—”
“I spoke conservatively, to leave a margin of safety on your behalf.”
Despite the sparring, he appeared truly indecisive on how to proceed. She found that rather charming.
“I have been on this street before, Mr. Knightridge, in the interests of certain charitable endeavors. I have witnessed most of what occurs in that house, only not all in one place. While I believe you are truly concerned for my safety, I suspect your hesitation has more to do with my seeing indelicate things. Since we cannot stand here all afternoon, let us be done with this and see if the boy is in there.”
Face stern, not liking it one bit, muttering things that sounded like “infernal woman” and “stubborn, troublemaking harridan,” Nathaniel helped her down and guided her to the door with a very firm grasp on her arm.
They walked in just behind two men who pushed by and barged ahead of them. Stale air laden with smells both human and alcoholic greeted them in the dark, filthy entry.
The noise came from the second level. Arm hovering behind her in protection, Nathaniel brought her up the tread-worn stairs and they peered in.
The room served as the gin house. A crowd filled it, sitting on old chairs and a long table and even the floor. A woman propped in a corner had gone unconscious, and from the looks of her dishabille had been trifled with in her stupor.
There were young children here, drinking like the adults. Several boys no more than fifteen also huddled in a corner with their gin cups, gambling amongst themselves with dice.
Nathaniel caught the eye of one and held up a shilling.
The boy casually left his friends and walked over to the doorway. He assessed their garments, lingering a moment on the reticule Charlotte had tucked firmly under her arm.
“Are you Finley’s boys?” Nathaniel asked.
“Old John’s dead. There ain’t no Finley’s boys no more, and we n’er were.” He cocked his head toward the others. “We’re our own gang.”
“Where would I find the boys who used to be with Old John?”
“There’s some ’ere. Up above.” He grinned salaciously. “They be busy, though.”
Nathaniel glanced at the ceiling. His mouth’s line turned hard and flat. “I doubt any of the ones above are whom we want. The boy we seek is about ten years of age.”
The youth grinned again. “Lot you know. Had me first ’fore I was ten.”
“This one is very dark in eyes and hair. Like a foreigner. Have you seen him here?”
“I know ’im. Seen ’im with Finley sometimes. Not up there or here a’tall. Not for days.”
Nathaniel was only too glad to hand over the shilling. He began moving Charlotte back toward the stairs.
“That one may be at the inn,” the youth said to their backs. “Hear tell the young’uns stayed there.”
“What inn?”
“Not a real inn. We cud show ye. Cost three o’ these.” He held up the shilling. “Have to walk, though. The lane is narrow.”
Nathaniel smiled, but his eyes could have melted steel. “I am not entering a dark alley with your gang, boy. Only you. The others stay here. You can share the money with them later. Try anything, put this lady in any danger, and I will break you in two.”
Finley’s lair was on a skinny lane nearby that stunk of manure and waste and rot. The old half-timbered structure really might have been an inn centuries ago; and in a different setting and
“Mr. Knightridge, do you really think I will come to physical harm in that house? With a man of your size and strength beside me? In the middle of the day?”
“It is impossible to say. It would only take four drunken men with knives to cut me down.”
“Dear me, I have indeed been negligent with my own welfare. When I insisted on coming, I just assumed it would take at least
six
drunken men with knives to—”
“I spoke conservatively, to leave a margin of safety on your behalf.”
Despite the sparring, he appeared truly indecisive on how to proceed. She found that rather charming.
“I have been on this street before, Mr. Knightridge, in the interests of certain charitable endeavors. I have witnessed most of what occurs in that house, only not all in one place. While I believe you are truly concerned for my safety, I suspect your hesitation has more to do with my seeing indelicate things. Since we cannot stand here all afternoon, let us be done with this and see if the boy is in there.”
Face stern, not liking it one bit, muttering things that sounded like “infernal woman” and “stubborn, troublemaking harridan,” Nathaniel helped her down and guided her to the door with a very firm grasp on her arm.
They walked in just behind two men who pushed by and barged ahead of them. Stale air laden with smells both human and alcoholic greeted them in the dark, filthy entry.
The noise came from the second level. Arm hovering behind her in protection, Nathaniel brought her up the tread-worn stairs and they peered in.
The room served as the gin house. A crowd filled it, sitting on old chairs and a long table and even the floor. A woman propped in a corner had gone unconscious, and from the looks of her dishabille had been trifled with in her stupor.
There were young children here, drinking like the adults. Several boys no more than fifteen also huddled in a corner with their gin cups, gambling amongst themselves with dice.
Nathaniel caught the eye of one and held up a shilling.
The boy casually left his friends and walked over to the doorway. He assessed their garments, lingering a moment on the reticule Charlotte had tucked firmly under her arm.
“Are you Finley’s boys?” Nathaniel asked.
“Old John’s dead. There ain’t no Finley’s boys no more, and we n’er were.” He cocked his head toward the others. “We’re our own gang.”
“Where would I find the boys who used to be with Old John?”
“There’s some ’ere. Up above.” He grinned salaciously. “They be busy, though.”
Nathaniel glanced at the ceiling. His mouth’s line turned hard and flat. “I doubt any of the ones above are whom we want. The boy we seek is about ten years of age.”
The youth grinned again. “Lot you know. Had me first ’fore I was ten.”
“This one is very dark in eyes and hair. Like a foreigner. Have you seen him here?”
“I know ’im. Seen ’im with Finley sometimes. Not up there or here a’tall. Not for days.”
Nathaniel was only too glad to hand over the shilling. He began moving Charlotte back toward the stairs.
“That one may be at the inn,” the youth said to their backs. “Hear tell the young’uns stayed there.”
“What inn?”
“Not a real inn. We cud show ye. Cost three o’ these.” He held up the shilling. “Have to walk, though. The lane is narrow.”
Nathaniel smiled, but his eyes could have melted steel. “I am not entering a dark alley with your gang, boy. Only you. The others stay here. You can share the money with them later. Try anything, put this lady in any danger, and I will break you in two.”
Finley’s lair was on a skinny lane nearby that stunk of manure and waste and rot. The old half-timbered structure really might have been an inn centuries ago; and in a different setting and
Similar Books
