refuse.’
Laughter made Stephen wish that he had said nothing at all. ‘Only a good woman can get under your skin in that way, Hawk. My wife, Lillian, has the same capacity to make me wild with both fury and desire and all at the same time.’
‘I never said that was how I felt.’
‘Not in words, maybe, but there is something about your demeanour since the ball that is different… .’
‘It is provocation and exasperation, Lucas, and it all comes down to the impossible Mrs St Harlow.’
Luc finished his drink in one unbroken swallow. ‘Nay, it is the unexpected comprehensionof feelings only few inspire, Hawk. If you listened to what’s left of your heart, you might just hear the music, and if you do it will probably save you.’
‘Lillian has turned you into a romantic, Luc, and your advice is completely without sense.’
But the strong liquor soured at the back of Stephen’s throat. For the first time in his life he did not know exactly what to do with a woman and it worried him. All of Luc’s talk of salvation rankled, too. Only innocence and purity might beat back the demons that consumed him and Aurelia St Harlow was no fresh-faced ingénue. His ruminations were interrupted, however, by Luc’s further rhetoric.
‘I ran into Lady Berkeley an hour or so back. Her daughter is most distressed that she may have offended you in some way at your ball. She has not heard from you since, it seems?’
‘I have been busy.’
Leaning forwards Lucas lowered his voice. ‘There is something else that I think you ought to know about your cousin’s mysterious widow, Hawk. She visits St Bartholomew’sHospital once a month to speak with a doctor named Giles Touillon.’
‘French?’
‘Indeed.’
The world spun inwards. Lord, Shavvon had sent him to the warehouses in the Limestone Hole to find a French connection and a disenfranchised traitor. Could Aurelia St Harlow be the leak? After a lifetime of spying Stephen had ceased to believe in the benevolent nature of mere coincidence. It was always so much more than that.
‘You look…odd, Hawk. Are you well?’
‘Very.’ Stretching back in the chair, he smiled. Even before Lucas he erected barriers. The thought made him sadder than it ought to. ‘If you see Lady Berkeley in the next day or two, Luc, could you tell her I shall call upon them at the end of the week for I have been summoned away north.’
‘Problems at Atherton?’
‘Life is always demanding its pound of flesh,’ he returned, feeling in the answer that he had not quite lied.
A few hours later Hawk walked through the maze of alleyways between Katherine Street and Drury Lane, the stench of thispoorer part of London rising in his nostrils. A woman’s fan brushed his face and he warned her away, the age-old code of the streetwalker’s offer lost in a smile where both gums and teeth had been eaten up by the mercury cure.
He was glad he had come in the guise of a sailor, the homespun of his clothes attracting little attention as he pulled the hat he wore further down upon his forehead.
Knocking on the door of a house on the corner of one of the small intertwining streets, he waited. Within a few seconds the bolts were slipped and he was allowed through, heavy locks refastened behind him.
‘Phillips said ye’d come.’ The man before him was small and wiry, a shock of red hair topping a freckled face.
‘He’s left the papers, then.’ Stephen’s words were tinged with the accent of the same slums.
‘I need the words first. The ones you’d know to say.’
‘Angliae notitia.’
A lamp flared and the corners of the modest room were bathed in light. A woman sat to one side on a small stool with a baby asleep on her lap.
‘Not a peep, mind, to anyone. If you talk, me wife and I , we’re as good as gone.’
‘I understand.’ Hawk brought the coins from his pocket, the profile of the Queen etched in bronze. ‘There’s more where this came from if you have anything else.’ A
Laughter made Stephen wish that he had said nothing at all. ‘Only a good woman can get under your skin in that way, Hawk. My wife, Lillian, has the same capacity to make me wild with both fury and desire and all at the same time.’
‘I never said that was how I felt.’
‘Not in words, maybe, but there is something about your demeanour since the ball that is different… .’
‘It is provocation and exasperation, Lucas, and it all comes down to the impossible Mrs St Harlow.’
Luc finished his drink in one unbroken swallow. ‘Nay, it is the unexpected comprehensionof feelings only few inspire, Hawk. If you listened to what’s left of your heart, you might just hear the music, and if you do it will probably save you.’
‘Lillian has turned you into a romantic, Luc, and your advice is completely without sense.’
But the strong liquor soured at the back of Stephen’s throat. For the first time in his life he did not know exactly what to do with a woman and it worried him. All of Luc’s talk of salvation rankled, too. Only innocence and purity might beat back the demons that consumed him and Aurelia St Harlow was no fresh-faced ingénue. His ruminations were interrupted, however, by Luc’s further rhetoric.
‘I ran into Lady Berkeley an hour or so back. Her daughter is most distressed that she may have offended you in some way at your ball. She has not heard from you since, it seems?’
‘I have been busy.’
Leaning forwards Lucas lowered his voice. ‘There is something else that I think you ought to know about your cousin’s mysterious widow, Hawk. She visits St Bartholomew’sHospital once a month to speak with a doctor named Giles Touillon.’
‘French?’
‘Indeed.’
The world spun inwards. Lord, Shavvon had sent him to the warehouses in the Limestone Hole to find a French connection and a disenfranchised traitor. Could Aurelia St Harlow be the leak? After a lifetime of spying Stephen had ceased to believe in the benevolent nature of mere coincidence. It was always so much more than that.
‘You look…odd, Hawk. Are you well?’
‘Very.’ Stretching back in the chair, he smiled. Even before Lucas he erected barriers. The thought made him sadder than it ought to. ‘If you see Lady Berkeley in the next day or two, Luc, could you tell her I shall call upon them at the end of the week for I have been summoned away north.’
‘Problems at Atherton?’
‘Life is always demanding its pound of flesh,’ he returned, feeling in the answer that he had not quite lied.
A few hours later Hawk walked through the maze of alleyways between Katherine Street and Drury Lane, the stench of thispoorer part of London rising in his nostrils. A woman’s fan brushed his face and he warned her away, the age-old code of the streetwalker’s offer lost in a smile where both gums and teeth had been eaten up by the mercury cure.
He was glad he had come in the guise of a sailor, the homespun of his clothes attracting little attention as he pulled the hat he wore further down upon his forehead.
Knocking on the door of a house on the corner of one of the small intertwining streets, he waited. Within a few seconds the bolts were slipped and he was allowed through, heavy locks refastened behind him.
‘Phillips said ye’d come.’ The man before him was small and wiry, a shock of red hair topping a freckled face.
‘He’s left the papers, then.’ Stephen’s words were tinged with the accent of the same slums.
‘I need the words first. The ones you’d know to say.’
‘Angliae notitia.’
A lamp flared and the corners of the modest room were bathed in light. A woman sat to one side on a small stool with a baby asleep on her lap.
‘Not a peep, mind, to anyone. If you talk, me wife and I , we’re as good as gone.’
‘I understand.’ Hawk brought the coins from his pocket, the profile of the Queen etched in bronze. ‘There’s more where this came from if you have anything else.’ A
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