Chapter Seven

C hapter S even

T hey weren't the most frightening men Lucy had ever seen, but they were certainly intimidating. Filthy, strong, scruffy, and intimidating. There was a darkness to their expressions, individually and combined, and she wasn't sure what to make of their interest in Trick.

Or Hunter. Or whoever.

She didn't care what she called him as long as he kept her safe.

She was completely out of her admittedly shallow depth in this world of his, and when she was reminded of that fact, she became afraid of her situation. When she was just with Hunter, she could have been anywhere in England and fairly at ease. She wouldn't have necessarily said that the night before, but once she had met him, she had felt she had a decent measure of the man. Whoever he was, whatever he did, however he chose to live his life, he had a sort of honor that could not be denied or ignored.

He might not be a gentleman, no matter what he said, but honor might be more important than anything else, especially in this situation.

But she did not know these men that he knew. She did not know if they lived with the same honor he did, if they would have protected her the way he had, if they would be indulging her the way he was. Would they have been some of the men hired to abduct her for the right price?

What else might they be capable of for the right inducements?

And this was the world that Hunter inhabited?

Perhaps she ought to be more afraid.

Lucy felt her practiced submissiveness rise in defense as they approached, just as it would when she was around her father. She was not naturally willful, and not especially independent, and the diminished version of herself was how her father demanded she act in his presence, so that was her habit. Even when her mother was alive, her father hadn't liked much interaction or communication with her, but since her death…

There was no point in pitying herself for her life, nor for turning into this meek little mouse of a creature. Nearly all of Society preferred their ladies to be like this, not just her father.

She did not know how to be anything else unless she was at the school.

There, she was simply Miss Allred, teacher of French, philosophy, comportment, and whatever other subject Miss Bradford settled on for the coming term. She had some authority, but not enough to go to her head, and she had freedom, but not enough to make her independent. She had contentment there and companionship with the other teachers, but more than that, she had a purpose greater than standing around waiting to be chosen by a man to wed.

When she was anywhere else…

"Something you blokes need?" Hunter asked of the men when they reached them, his accent going as common as common could be.

"Something you might need," the largest one said, using a cigar to point at him. "Happy to patrol tonight, Trick, if you like."

Patrol? What in the world would a patrol be for? Were they soldiers of some sort?

Lucy did her best to not look curious or even interested, but her ears had grown particularly attentive.

Hunter looked up at the sky, squinting at something or other. "Would I like? Why?"

"The weed has a penchant for gaming," one of the others said, clearing his throat. "And tonight is rumored to be a good night in all the local haunts."

"And none of you would be opposed to spending an evening on patrol of gaming hells, would you?" Hunter chuckled in a dark, knowing way that Lucy was intrigued by. "Provided you are not expending your own funds, of course."

The rest of them laughed in the same way that Hunter just had, which made Lucy even more intrigued.

Was he really in charge of these men? Or were they like him and simply offering assistance? Did they do what he did? He seemed to have more authority than the rest, but in what capacity did any of them act? And how?

And what sort of patrols went on in gaming hells? Whatever those were…

Oh heavens, were they going to search for her father in there? They'd likely find him, if these places were what she suspected. Perhaps losing whatever money they had left and the maintenance funds that had supposedly been set aside in his retrenchment.

Lucy bit down softly on the inside of her cheek to keep from asking any of these questions out loud and focused on keeping her eyes lowered.

"Fine," Hunter finally said. "Patrol tonight. We'll meet at The Black Dolphin, usual time."

"And the chick? She yours?"

The growl that came from Hunter's chest startled Lucy and she looked at him in surprise.

He was glaring at them all. "She is no chick. She is not mine, nor is she anyone else's, but she is under my protection. Understand that?"

"Yes, sir, Trick," they all said, more or less, in a mumbling murmur rather like a stream over rocks.

Lucy felt her cheeks heat and wondered if she ought to look somewhere specific while the awkward moment passed.

"This is Miss Lucy," Hunter went on, only slightly calmer, "and should you see her unaccompanied, you will take her under your protection until she is safely at the Garden. I'll be having your word on that as well."

The men gave it, each of them avoiding looking at Lucy and finding unanimity in their acknowledgement. It was oddly comforting to have their words, but it would all mean nothing if they did not have honor.

Clearly Hunter thought they did, or he would not have insisted upon it.

Honor among thieves? Rogues? Dock workers? There was no telling what they were or who, but it was something.

One of them looked fairly young, perhaps not even twenty, and he glanced at Lucy with a small smile. Not one of interest or the sort of leering inspection she had seen in some of her father's acquaintances, but one of almost… friendly reassurance?

That wasn't something in place in this group, as far as she could tell.

She managed a faint smile back, wondering if that was a mistake Hunter was going to chide her for as soon as they were away.

But if he noticed, he said nothing. Didn't even nudge her.

Perhaps the prospect of a patrol was enough to distract him? She was going to have to ask him for details when she could. If he were distracted enough thinking about the patrol for a few minutes after they left, he might answer her questions instinctively.

Freely.

Without secrets.

The possibilities were rather tantalizing, if she considered them for too long.

She gave Hunter a quiet, sidelong look, realizing he was in conversation with the others again.

"Nah, Trick, the pulse is more thready," a short, scrawny one said. "More Irish in the neighborhood than French, and the Irish are a prickly bunch for French secrets. At least right now."

"East India has some French," said a man with a jagged scar down his brow and onto his cheek. "Lots of loading on and off. Need me to check?"

Hunter shrugged. "Tomorrow, if you don't have anything better to do. Briar or Trace might have the pulse there, so don't tread on toes. And Blythe, look at the Irish anyway, eh? I don't want someone getting there before me. Just get some ears there."

"Got it, Trick."

Irish? French? East India? What in the world were any of them talking about? Briar, she knew, if they were talking about the woman from last night, and if they were, then Trace might be someone else who worked in their world. But how did anybody follow these conversations without a list of references?

It was an entirely new language they were speaking, and while the majority of the words might have been English, they certainly did not have the same meanings.

So much for her curiosity being sated.

"Any of you know the name Allred?"

She did her best not to jerk in response to hearing her surname, but knew she failed at once when Hunter's hand came to her arm in a surprisingly gentle hold.

But alas, every one of the men shook their heads.

Of course they did.

"If you hear it tonight, you tell me at once," Hunter told them. "I'll see you at the rendezvous." With a quick nod, he strode away with Lucy secure beside him, not giving any of them a chance to ask further questions or provide any insight on any other detail they had been discussing.

Were all of his conversations so abruptly ended? She glanced over her shoulder to see the men breaking up and apparently going about their day. Like a class when dismissed.

What sort of world had she been dropped into, and what in the world was happening tonight?

She looked up at Hunter, but he shook his head quickly. "Don't speak yet," he said in a low voice, as though he could hear her questions brewing. "Give it another block at least."

"But I—"

"Shh!"

What for? Lucy was practically screaming at him in her mind, wondering what the point would be of waiting another block to talk to him when she didn't even understand what they had been talking about until he'd mentioned her surname. The entire area was filled with people just like those men, according to Hunter himself, so if anybody heard her talking to him, would it not carry the exact same risk no matter where she was? And they had been speaking freely enough before this without his shushing her.

Back to irritation, then, and may the day thrive in it.

She began to grind her teeth together, which she almost never did, but some impulses were too strong to ignore.

Must not punch him, must not punch him, must not punch him…

She would not punch him, of course. Ladies did not punch those who were trying to help them.

Imagining punching him, however, was perfectly acceptable, and quite a pleasurable pastime. She had no idea if she would be any good at punching. Growing up without siblings, she had never thrown a punch or taken one, but she had observed the occasional fight a time or two in her life, so she had a general idea of how to go about the thing.

With her luck, she would probably break her hand on his chiseled face while he laughed at her. He'd probably feel tickled by whatever blow she struck, if she managed to land one at all. And then he'd never answer her questions and probably leave her somewhere else for someone else to deal with, and while that might give her a more sympathetic nanny, it would require her to start the entire process over again.

She wasn't willing to do that.

Acting in one's own interests long-term when the short-term ones were so very enticing was surely the most righteous form of self-control, if not the most rigorous.

When they had reached the apparently perfect block of streets away from the men, Hunter exhaled. "Right, now you can talk."

For the sake of spite and every woman who had ever been properly irked by a man, Lucy said nothing on that particular cue, and simply lifted a shoulder in a half shrug of nonchalance.

Just to see what happened.

It took all of three paces for him to react. "What?" he grunted darkly. "Where did your insatiable curiosity go?"

"I'm not at all certain I know what you are talking about," Lucy replied with a prim sniff that any of her great-aunts would have been proud of.

Hunter released a knowing, exasperated sigh. "I have a sister, Lucy. I know how this works. What have I done to irk you so?"

She folded her arms tightly. "You shushed me."

"Oh, for pity's sake—"

"No," she insisted, cutting him off with a quick finger. "No, don't do that. I know what you're going to say."

He lifted an imperious brow. "Which is?"

She cleared her throat before attempting to deepen it in an impersonation. "‘There's going to be more than shushing today.' ‘It'll happen again.' ‘Are you going to be miffed every time you need to be quiet?' ‘It was for your own good.'" She made a face and looked up at him. "How did I do?"

He wore a lopsided smile that did interesting things to her stomach. "Not bad. You forgot about the part where I know the sort of people around here and you don't, but all in all, fairly accurate. I don't sound like that, though."

"It's not my fault that my voice won't go as low as yours!" she protested with a laugh.

"That wasn't the part I was talking about." He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing again, but this time it sounded more fatigued than anything else. "I apologize for shushing you. I didn't mean to treat you like a child, or however it came across. But in this part of town, no matter the time of day, certain corners and blocks are simply not safe, and I wouldn't have put it past any of those men to follow us for a bit just to find out more about you. I wasn't going to risk that, and there wasn't exactly time to explain myself fully."

It was sobering to hear the reasoning, but also hard to fathom in broad daylight.

"Me?" Lucy snorted in a rather unladylike fashion. "Please."

"I am quite serious," came his calm, unamused retort.

She shook her head. "What, any new face in a street will do? Surely even this part of London has some sort of standard."

"You greatly underestimate this part of London, and you are hardly just a new face. Objectively speaking, Lucy, you are quite pretty, and that makes you a target for all sorts."

Objectively speaking? A target? Only this man could bracket a compliment with two rather unflattering statements, which kept her stomach fluttering to a brief twitch that could have been an internal sneeze for all she knew.

"Allow me to roll in some dirt to make myself less appealing, then," she grumbled, sandwiching her hands beneath her arms as though cold. "Anyone robbing me would come away disappointed, so no need for hiding anything there."

"Dirt wouldn't help," Hunter told her, unmoved. "Not down here." He yawned and didn't bother to hide it. "Everybody has dirt. You'd just be prettier than most."

Again, the lack of actual compliment in the compliment.

"Is this boring for you?" Lucy asked him, allowing her irked state to remain fairly evident. "Am I inconvenient and boring?"

He looked at her, his eyes practically doleful. "I'm tired, Lucy. I was up all night trying to find your father, and I'm going to be up most of the night again due to the patrol I now have to do, so forgive me if yawning in your presence is offensive."

The sting of embarrassment was swift and sharp, and Lucy actually hissed as it lashed across her chest. "Sorry. Is there somewhere you can take me so you can rest before your patrol? What is a patrol anyway? I mean, I know what a patrol is, but what is your patrol? Are you looking for my father in the gaming hells? I know you mentioned him, but it didn't seem like the point of the patrol. Do you need to do a lot of preparing for that? What kind of a place is The Black Dolphin?"

"Bloody hell, woman, would you take a breath?"

Lucy did so, without realizing what he was saying, then released a breath on laughter. "Sorry, I was doing it again, wasn't I?"

Hunter was shaking his head, his eyes wide. "I have never met anyone who rambles like you. Ever. It's like your mind and your mouth are skipping along in some country green and ignoring the fact that questions generally require a response."

"I doubt either my mind or my mouth would be capable of skipping," she admitted with a wrinkle of her nose. "I am really not very coordinated."

"So you don't teach dancing at Miss Masters's. Duly noted."

Lucy managed a giggle and lowered her arms to her sides, letting them swing naturally with the motion of her walking. "If you can remember any of those questions I asked, feel free to answer them."

"Why, don't you remember them?" He grinned down at her, and again, her stomach did that fluttery, twitchy thing, only this time it seemed to shift three ribs or so.

"Not really. They just kind of fly out of me, but I'm sure they'd come back."

He scoffed softly. "Homing pigeons. Nice."

She jabbed him in the side with her elbow before stepping around a puddle in her path. "It's not my fault! This is just the way I am!"

"All right, all right," he protested, playfully rubbing at his side, though there was no possibility she had actually injured him. "Yes, there is a place we can go where you'll be safe and I can rest, and we might as well head there now. I was going to have you there during the patrol anyway."

Lucy squealed in an oddly girlish manner for being told they were going somewhere new. "What kind of a place is it? Darker than your flat? Safer neighborhood? Worse neighborhood? More colorful people for me to meet? Do I need a false name?"

"Lucy…"

"Sorry!" She did her best not to cover her mouth with both hands. "I'm just excited to go somewhere I've never been that is going to be safe for me."

"I can tell. You have a very odd sense of what is exciting." He chuckled, glancing in her direction. "I'd say you need to experience more of the world, but here we are."

"Only if it's going to be useful to you," Lucy said in as calm a voice as she could manage. "I'm already in your way, and I know it."

Hunter mumbled something under his breath, then turned to her. "Stop apologizing. I know, you didn't, but you are every time you use your breath to say something about being inconvenient or in my way or whatever. Stop doing that. It's unnecessary, and it's getting annoying. And I wouldn't be taking you to this place if it weren't also in my best interest. I can rest, but I can also get information that I need, both for my patrol interests and for finding your father. I am capable of acting in my own self-interest while also acting in yours."

Lucy clamped down on her lips hard, finding something incredibly amusing about his speech, in light of how he had just mocked her for rambling.

His eyes flicked to that motion, and his shoulders slumped. "And now you're laughing at me. What?"

"Nothing," she said, squeaking in a rather betraying manner. "That was just a lot for you to say at once. Either you are really tired, or I am rubbing off on you."

He groaned and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Probably both, honestly. But going to see Tilda will be helpful for both of us. You'll have plenty of company, we can get you some different clothing, and I can rest after checking in where I need to."

"Who is Tilda?" Lucy asked brightly.

He peered up at the sky, almost wincing as he did so. "She's a costumer for several of the London theatres. One of the most eccentric people I have ever met, and I think she may have murdered someone in Austria in her youth, but no one has ever been able to confirm that for me, or prove it, come to think. She's very frank, very creative, and very protective of her girls."

Lucy frowned a little. "She's a mother?"

Now Hunter barked a loud, hard laugh. "No, my dear Lucy, she is not. Wait and see."