Mistress at Midnight by Sophia James Page A

flash of greed told him that the red-haired man probably did. Settling back, he crossed his legs in front of him. Experience had taught him patience in any negotiation and the art of biding his time. Information gathering had its own set of intricate rules, after all, and the first of them was to feign indifference.
    ‘The one they call Delsarte and his cronies have been hanging around the warehouse. I ain’t seen the woman do nothing with them, though. She just goes late back to that fancy home of hers up in Mayfair when she has finished and returns in the morning. As early as sin, I should say.’
    ‘Have you ever seen her talking with them?’
    ‘No.’
    Stephen’s glance went to the girl sitting to one side, but her eyes were cast downwards.
    ‘There is something that I heard Delsarte say…’ Stopping, he waited for a timely reminder and Hawk handed him another handfulof coins. ‘He said that he was going to Paris and that there was more money in it than this business could provide him with. Then the rain came down heavy so’s that I couldn’t listen no more. The woman he was talking to was from Mother Spence’s place down Katherine Lane. A big dark-haired girl with patches, rouge and a long scar down her forearm. She might know more if ye asked her, though ye’d have to be careful as she was hanging on to him like he was a gift or something.’
    ‘Did you get into the warehouse to look over the files?’
    ‘No, not a chance to. The dog stops you when there’s no one in. A big monster of a hound that lets everyone know he’s there. I heard them mention a boat, though, last week, when I was following them home from the Black Boar. The Meridian . I checked and she’s in at St Katherine’s Dock.’
    ‘You’ve done well.’ Standing, Stephen placed a silver shilling on the table before him. ‘For the babe,’ he said as he collected his hat and left.
    Nathaniel Lindsay was waiting for him in his library when he returned after eleveno’clock, and he had already finished a large amount of his best bottle of whisky.
    ‘You are still at the game, then?’ His eyes passed over the homespun as Stephen took off the woollen overcoat and hat.
    ‘If you come uninvited, you have to take what is here without comment, Nat.’ Finding a glass, Hawk poured himself a generous drink, pausing to enjoy the smooth taste of the golden liquid.
    ‘Cassie sent me.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘She thinks you need a talking to over your choice of women.’
    ‘I thought your wife approved of Elizabeth Berkeley?’
    Laughter echoed around the room. ‘You would devour everything about that poor chit within a year, Stephen, and curse yourself for doing so.’
    ‘Indeed?’
    ‘Women are like this whisky, my friend. Find a full-bodied and complicated brew and it will suit you for ever. It worked for both Luc and me.’
    The words fell into the silent warmth of the library, soft harbingers of persuasion.‘You are saying that the basis for a good marriage is a complicated woman?’
    Nathaniel’s hands flailed in the air. ‘I am saying that I am worried about you, Stephen. All this…disguise and deception. It is making you sadder than you need to be.’ He paused for a second before carrying on. ‘Remember when your parents died and we were at school? How old were we then? You and Luc and I?’
    ‘Thirteen.’
    ‘Thirteen. And we said that we would always be family from then on. We made a promise cut into the skin at our wrists.’ Pulling up the sleeve on his arm, he traced one finger over a thin white line. ‘I pressed too hard and ended up in the clinic and you slept on the floor beside me for a week. I think if you had not been there holding my hand in the cold of the night I wouldn’t have survived. Now it is my turn to make certain that you survive.’
    With a frown Stephen looked down at his own hands, the nails filled with dirt from where he had scraped them along the earth on the driveway before his foray into the dark