Chapter Twenty

C hapter T wenty

I t was a good thing Meyer knew full well who Trace and Hunter worked for and why, or he might have demanded an excessive amount of payment for the damage they had caused the night before. Though, to be fair, Meyer had thrown a few punches himself. Still, between the two of them, there was enough to give him a decent enough donation to cover the damage.

There were zero regrets over their actions. It was only fitting to defend Lucy's honor and leave a message that she would be under the protection of several power people in the lower levels of London, should they ever see her again. She ought not to be a tempting prospect anymore, but one that made them run in fear.

He didn't blame them for the attraction to her, for that was only natural. It was the manner in which they had chosen to direct that attraction and the complete lack of respect in it. If he had not spotted Trace in the taproom, Hunter wouldn't have suggested that Lucy could remain there as well. He'd have insisted she go upstairs before he'd left. But Trace was one of his oldest contacts, and the fact that the man had been even more driven in his work since his surprise return from death made him a perfect stand-in protector for Lucy in Hunter's absence.

Sleeping outside of Lucy's door hadn't been the most comfortable night Hunter had ever spent, but it held such a grand satisfaction after the brawl that he had slept like a baby and needed no additional comforts to help him there.

Lucy hadn't been surprised to see him outside of her door in the morning and had only expressed concern for the state of his back from the lack of padding beneath him.

If only she had known some of the places and conditions under which he had slept in the past, she would hazard a guess that his back was likely the most accommodating and resilient part of him. He'd slept standing up against a wall once in Austria and had suffered no ill effects from it. He'd been younger then, but he could probably still do it.

Probably.

They were out walking in the streets now, using their copy of the drawing of Mr. Allred to inquire after him in some of the neighborhoods a step or two above where Hunter himself lived. The other two copies had been given to contacts of his to do the same in their own areas of London, and he had yet to hear from them. But Lucy was an eager and apt pupil in the art of approaching strangers without bringing any personal touches into the conversation.

They had thought it best that she not reveal her connection to Mr. Allred during their attempts, as it could bring out the unsavory creatures who would pretend at information for money, then put forth lies that would not serve their purpose. But if they were simply asking around for recognition and were calm and collected about the matter, there was usually a minimal amount of them to deal with.

They'd been at this the whole morning now, and no one had so much as found their drawing familiar in any way.

If Lucy was particularly concerned about finding her father, she wasn't showing it openly. Her features were a complete mask of indifference and placidity, engaged in a chore as it were rather than a matter of her own safety and security. They had now reached the point at which she was doing most of the approaching and conversing while Hunter strode behind and kept a weather eye out for any trouble, occasionally asking people if they knew the name of James Allred.

It helped that Tilda had given Lucy clothing that allowed her to belong to a middling class of ladies, one that could flit upwards for brief interludes and descend lower as needed without blatantly offending either. And she bore such pleasing features and such a kind countenance that it was rare for anyone to dismiss or ignore her upon approach. He should have thought of using her from the beginning; she was getting so much conversation out of the exercise.

But he'd been so concerned about protecting her and shielding her from everything and everyone that was beneath her that the opportunity had not even occurred to him. He'd seen her as every other gentleman in the world was meant to see her: a decorative, delicate object that would shatter with the slightest rough touch. He'd not seen her as a woman with wit and strength and untapped potential, one who might have even been trusted with some of the national secrets that assets and operatives bore every day.

She was not there yet, of course, but in time, she could be.

Hunter found himself smiling rather proudly as Lucy bid farewell to yet another couple wandering through Farringdon towards Bloomsbury. She was smiling as well after her conversation with them, and he could not tell if it was a smile of politeness for a decent exchange or if they had actually been useful in their purposes. Lucy was a mystery of sorts today, and there was something especially intriguing about that.

He'd always loved a good mystery. His entire professional life was spent untangling and uncovering them, for heaven's sake. Surely a little mingling between his personal and professional life wouldn't go entirely amiss.

"Well?" he inquired when she reached him.

Her smile tightened and she sighed. "They said he looked familiar but couldn't quite place him, which seems to be the recurring theme of today." She handed over the picture and set her hands at her hips, arching her back a little in stretching form. "I don't know how your friends do this day after day, Hunter. I'm exhausted already."

He chuckled and gestured towards a nearby bench. "Come, sit. And they don't always run around with pictures and the like. Sometimes it is watching places or behaving a certain way. And they are much used to it, so it is not as tiresome."

"I suppose they must have the endurance for it the way young ladies have for a ball," Lucy mused as she sat. "One must allow for differences in situation for activities engaged in as well." She twisted her lips to one side, a faint crease appearing in her brow. "Do you know Lady Vickers, Hunter? I mentioned her before, she is my friend Emmeline. She was once a teacher at Miss Masters's before she married her dashing half-Spanish earl."

Hunter smiled very slightly, wondering how Lucy would react if she knew that Lady Vickers was also an operative known as Ears. "I've heard the name, I think."

Lucy's brow cleared as she shook her head. "I wish she were in London at present. She and her aunt know my father a little, and she might have heard something about where he has gone."

That sent Hunter's ears burning a touch. "Didn't you say she had an aunt in London, Lucy? She might be someone with information."

"Mrs. Kirby," Lucy replied easily. "She lives in Mayfair, but her attitudes were very kind towards us in spite of our diminishing circumstances. I believe her Christian name is Hermione."

Hunter nodded once. "I will have one of my contacts seek her out and determine what can be done. Perhaps we might gain some answers more swiftly."

"And how will you do that?" Lucy asked, turning towards him slightly, her eyes bright. "Is one of your contacts following us as we go? Do you have them floating about this part of London with us? Do we need to wander into a different neighborhood to cross paths with one? Or can you simply have a message sent via runner like some peer to another?"

Her tone was a little strange, not quite dismissive and not touching superior, but it bore a sharpness that did not suit her. An almost mocking, caustic, sarcastic pulse to her words that set him on edge and put him full on alert. Anticipation of an attack of sorts.

What had he done to earn this ire? Or was it situational? Was she at last tired of this life and ready to be returned to Society and finery? Or was she irked about something in particular?

"I'll have word sent," Hunter told her carefully, wondering if he was being lured into some sort of trap. "Rather like how my friend Briton had word sent to me last night."

"Secrets and more secrets," Lucy mused, looking away and off to the distance. "What a complicated life you lead, Hunter."

He watched her with suspicion, his eyes narrowing as his mind whirled. Had the events of the night before soured her to this extent? He hadn't seen these shades in her last night, nor even this morning at breakfast, but he could not deny that she was entitled to disgruntlement after the third day of being away from the security she had previously enjoyed.

He should have been working harder at this. She did not belong in this life of his, and he'd known it from the first. It wasn't fair to her for him to continue being selfish and sedate about her father's location and situation. He owed it to her to put his full effort into this, even at the expense of his official assignment.

"I do have Briar using her contacts on the other side of the river to try and find your father as well," Hunter pointed out, hoping it would be helpful. "I gave her a copy of his likeness. Do you believe he could have ventured there?"

Lucy exhaled in irritation, her hands slapping her lap. "I have no idea what my father would or would not do anymore. I don't know where he could be or why he would send a carriage for me, only for that carriage to never arrive there, and somehow for him to not care about the fact. I don't know why he was suddenly rational about retrenching and suddenly growing fond enough to want me to visit for holidays. There is so much that I do not know that suddenly seems relevant, if not significant, and yet I am as ignorant as any other girl of my station, which ought to be criminal." She brushed at her knees, huffing. "I only want all of this to be over so I may return to the school, where I at least appear to have some control over my life. Reality is tiresome, and I am sick of it."

He could not argue with any of those points, and he did not intend to. Lucy's life was a complicated one for any person, male or female, but the fact that she was female and therefore had no rights or independence, or dignity, in some cases…

He offered her a sympathetic smile. "What would you like to do for the rest of the day? I can take you anywhere. We can continue taking the picture around, or we can do something else. Or you can do something without me, if you wish to visit Tilda or Hal or—"

"Now what would I want to do without you?" Lucy overrode, raising a brow at him, her smile easing into a beautiful and crooked grin. She chuckled and tilted her head back to catch a few of the sun's rays, though the day held a particularly cold note to it. "It would be lovely to see one of Tilda's operas. My father never cared for the theatre or anything of the sort, so I was only able to attend when invited by those he approved of. Of course, we could not possibly attend with the general public, given the risk of my being recognized and attending unchaperoned with a stranger, but even so. It would be lovely."

Hunter stared at her for a moment, then tilted his head as an idea struck him and began to bounce around his mind like an agitated bee in a hive. "I may have a way to accomplish that, actually."

Lucy gave him a startled look, her dark eyes round and cavernous. "What, we'll go in disguise?"

"No, we won't need to," he replied slowly, his smile spreading as the idea continued to form and develop. "We'll have a very particular view of the stage that might not be appreciated by most people of your station but would allow us to see and hear everything. And all we need to do is go and see Tilda."

"Really?" Lucy's bright smile, so filled with an eager hope, would have driven him to do unspeakable things, should it have been her wish or for her benefit.

As it was, he was now entirely convinced that he would get her to the opera that night, in legal ways or otherwise.

He nodded slowly, everything within his chest softening as he looked at her. "Yes. Really." Sensing he was dangerously close to saying or doing too much, he cleared his throat and stood from the bench. "It is too early to go directly to Tilda's now, especially if we hope to curry favor for tonight. Would it be acceptable to you if we were to visit Green Park and St. James's Park again? They are not out of our way, and perhaps we might find some people who recognize the drawing of your father."

"That sounds lovely," Lucy agreed, rising and brushing at her skirts. "St. James's Park was beautiful yesterday, but seeing people there and taking advantage of their presence would be very wise. And perhaps we might then enjoy the opera without worrying about my father at all."

"I would enjoy not thinking of your father at the opera," Hunter told her with a sage nod, fighting a smile.

Lucy clamped down on her lips hard, a few giggles escaping. "Then let us hurry and see our task done so we might forget all about him for a while."

It was entirely possible that she had never said anything so appealing to his ears, and he made no attempt to hide his smile now, nor to adjust it into something resembling polite warmth. He let his full admiration, bordering on adoration, shine through, and to hell with the consequences.

Her cheeks turned a stunning shade of pink, just as he wanted, and he gestured for her to lead the way. "To the parks, then, Miss Allred," he murmured.

"Yes," she replied in a similar tone, averting her eyes and turning away. "To the parks."

Hunter followed as she started to walk, not bothering to make haste to reach her side quite yet. He rather enjoyed smiling at her from behind, marveling at the way her bonnet could not completely hide the wealth of her hair with how she was presently wearing it. The lower part of the style was visible against the base of her neck, and he was studying the way there were a dozen different shades of rich brown just in that portion of her hair alone.

He also took note of the brilliant way that Lucy's gown and coat nipped in at the waist with an efficiency that left nothing to the imagination of her true size there, while not revealing anything that could be considered inappropriate or scandalous. She was dressed in an unremarkable gown of green and a simple coat of grey, both in sturdy fabrics that likely had never been fashionable, and yet she elevated both to something flattering. She was beautiful even in clothing that was supposed to be plain and boring, and though she presently had a stride that might not be particularly refined, there was a natural grace to her demeanor that could not be hidden.

There was no one like Lucy in the world, of that he was certain. And he was going to take her to the opera tonight. It was an impossible idea, and yet it was going to take place. They were going to spend an evening together with proper entertainment like any courting couple in Society, something they could have done if he were living the life he was born to and not the life that he had chosen.

It would be the most authentic experience either of them had endured since being thrown together.

And it might be the last they experienced together, if their contacts were successful today.

But he couldn't think about that now. They had an afternoon of parks first, and then they could prepare for the opera. Forgetting about her father. Just the two of them together.

Hunter shook his head, willing the impending melancholy away, and moved to catch up with Lucy as they neared the parks.

Hours later, he felt it pressing upon him once more, his heart aching as though he would have to return her home the moment the opera was over.

As though this were the end.

He was trussed in finer attire than he'd worn in weeks, but it was still not enough to be seen in Society. Tilda had insisted upon dressing him as well as Lucy for the evening, and also insisted that neither of them should be wearing something that would put them in the ton. Their seats were well out of eyesight of anyone but, as Tilda insisted, she had a reputation to uphold, and they would not embarrass her by dressing beneath her dignity for an outing such as this.

He would owe Tilda several grand favors for this. It was her secret box that they were using this evening, and she really ought to have been up at the stage overseeing the costumes before the opening. But she demanded to dress Lucy herself rather than have one of her assistants do so, and no one would argue with her.

For whatever reason, Hunter's stomach bore a great knot within it, something that told him someone was spiriting Lucy away from him and returning her to her father, whose location Hunter would never know. It was an entirely ridiculous notion, but there it was. And until he saw Lucy for himself, he could not be at ease.

"Message for you, Trick."

Hunter jumped and looked around the corridor where he waited, his eyes falling on Willow, dressed in dark clothing suited for working at the stage level as Tilda's assistant. "Here?"

She nodded and handed the note to him. "Came from a boy of about fifteen. Said Armstrong gave it to him." She shrugged before turning away, hurrying towards the corridor that led to the theatre itself.

Armstrong. One of his contacts who had been strictly charged with finding James Allred.

Heart pounding, Hunter unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the brief line and rough scrawl:

Allred. 9 Greenland Street. Camden Town.

"No," Hunter breathed as his eyes dashed across the words again and again, his heart seeming to vanish from his chest completely. "No, not yet…"

Camden Town. Why hadn't he heard of the man if he was in Camden Town? That wasn't far from his haunts, and he certainly had people who had checked through there. Allred must have been keeping his head down, given the shame of retrenching to such a poor corner of London, but even so…

He crumpled up the note and held it in his fist tightly. Lucy wanted to spend the evening at the opera. Telling her that he finally had her father's address would put her in the awkward position of deciding between her duty as a daughter and something she wanted to do in direct opposition to that. He refused to do that to her. She deserved to have one evening of enjoying herself for her own sake before her life was once more consumed with a disappointing father and employment that she enjoyed but could be snatched from her the moment her father determined it.

Tomorrow. He would tell her about their success tomorrow and leave tonight for her wishes. Yes, it was also going to suit his wishes, but it wouldn't be as selfish as it sounded. He did not have the heart to crush her when she had been so excited about the prospect of the evening.

One more night. That was it. Then it would be over.

He heard a rustling from up ahead in the corridor and shoved the note into his weskit pocket, turning to face whomever was approaching. As he'd hoped, Tilda was heading for him, with Lucy just behind. At his look, Tilda quirked her brows precisely twice before stepping aside and revealing her project in full.

Hunter's vanished heart reappeared before plummeting through his stomach and beneath the floor. Lucy was arrayed in a rich shade of blue that was uninterrupted from shoulder to toe, identically matching silk ribbons crisscrossing her torso into a deep V at her hips, emphasizing the purity of her figure. The same sort of ribbons formed a series of wavelike folds at the hem and created thick lines across the sheer white fabric puffing at her shoulders for sleeves. They also seemed to be woven throughout her plaited and curled hair, white flowers glimmering between the dark locks. Her throat bore strands of pearls, and her ears were adorned with the same, but most striking of all was her smile.

Small and demure, but there among full lips that seemed the most tempting shape and shade of pink he had ever seen. She was a vision, and he had never seen anything to compare. He didn't even have the words to describe her loveliness, and he was entirely uncertain how they were meant to blend in this evening when Lucy was better suited for the finest ballrooms in Society like this.

"Ah, I love when the silence outstrips any words," Tilda sighed as she fell into step behind Lucy and they reached Hunter. "I take it you approve of my little project."

He nodded, his throat tightening as he swallowed. "But how are we meant to attract no notice when my lady bears such beauty?"

Lucy's cheeks brightened into a sunset red he immediately adored. "It's only crepe, Hunter. Anyone who knows fashionable fabrics will be able to tell. And there is very little adornment."

"You don't need it," he said, holding out his hand for some unknown reason. "You don't need anything."

"Exactly what I was going to say," Tilda chimed in as Lucy shyly put her hand in his. "What an amusing thing. Now, if you will both excuse me, I am due at the stage. Trick, you know the way?"

Hunter nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on Lucy. "I do," he murmured, running his thumb over her gloved knuckles.

Cursed fabric. If they weren't expected for all in attendance, he might have enjoyed the feeling of her skin upon his fingertips, but politeness must be preserved in some instances, he supposed.

Unfortunately.

"Tilda says we will love our seats," Lucy said, her lips barely moving for her smile. "Have you been in them before?"

"Only for a meeting," Hunter told her as his thumb moved over her knuckles again. "Never for pleasure." He turned and began leading her towards the stage, following in the path that Willow and Tilda had taken. The stairs were wide and shallow, which was a pleasant change from most stairs he encountered these days. Then the corridor was there that only actors and staff of the theatre would use, though the sounds of theatre patrons could be heard quite clearly.

Hunter moved to the farthest door in the corridor before a large stack of chairs—barely visible as it was painted the same color as the walls. He pulled it open and led Lucy into the space, keeping a hold on her hand so she would not venture too far.

The sounds of the crowd were almost deafening from here, and he ushered Lucy into one of the two seats placed nearby. Their view at present was only of curtains and a long corridor between them, which was, of course, the front of the stage itself.

Lucy sat, blinking at their view, then looked at Hunter in bewilderment. "Are we on the stage?" she whispered loudly.

Hunter grinned as he took his own seat, nodding. "In a way, yes. We are behind the main curtain, which separates the audience from the stage, and in front of the draw curtains, which separates the actors from the view of the audience. I daresay one of the actors or directors will come through the draw curtains before the main curtain is lifted to welcome everyone and greet them. But we will know before anyone else, so are we not the fortunate ones?"

Lucy gaped openly at him, then back at the stage. "But we will see everything! Absolutely everything!"

"Unless the curtains get in the way, yes," Hunter replied with some satisfaction, feeling rather smug with the idea of attending the opera in the first place.

Technically, these weren't even seats, and certainly had no reservations. It was a portion of typically unused stage area that Tilda had decided to make use of for those she was connected to. She never sat here herself, given her work behind the scenes, but for those who needed a place to meet and discuss covert things while among others, her private box was perfect.

"Thank you for arranging this," Lucy told him softly, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it gently. "It is so perfect, there simply aren't words."

She was quite right; there were no words.

It was perfect.

"I was glad to do so," Hunter murmured, captivated by her impossibly dark eyes and the way her lips moved when she spoke. The way her smile appeared in her eyes no matter how slight. The way her throat moved when she breathed.

Captivated by everything she was and every tiny aspect of her.

It wasn't just beauty; it was her.

And it was love.

A curling, coiling fire started somewhere between his stomach and his chest, slowly yet defiantly igniting him in places that had never existed before this moment. Burning him with the building heat, searing him deep into his core, leaving marks that could never be removed. It would consume him, and God help him, he would let it.

He would allow himself to fall prey to this inferno, and he would be grateful for the chance.

"I am glad to be here with you," Hunter told Lucy, fighting the urge to tell her something else entirely.

Lucy's smile made his heart stop. "So am I, Hunter. There is no one else…"

The musicians struck up then, and with their proximity to them, there was no finishing that sentence, nor the conversation.

Hunter was going to be left in torment over those words.

There is no one else…

There was no one else what? No one else she would rather be here with? No one else she trusted? No one else she knew at the moment? No one else… ever?

Because there was certainly no one else for him. Ever.

Only Lucy.

Which meant his doom would come in the morning, and his heart could only live for the next few hours.

He intended to make the most of it.