A Gift for Guile (The Thief-takers) (23 page)

And that was that. There would be no more argument, no more discussion. If very nearly begging wouldn’t convince her to stay, nothing would—short of using bodily force.

He could do that. He could pick her up, carry her upstairs, and lock her in her room until morning. God knew, he’d imagined it two dozen times over. It was the next logical plan of action. Finding the mystery man had failed. Persuasion had failed.
He
had failed. Brute force remained.

He could do it.

He wouldn’t.

It wasn’t just that she would hate him for it. He could live with her hate if it meant she’d be safe. He wouldn’t do it because it was wrong.

Her decision to go to Paddington station was also wrong, if for no other reason than that it bloody well hurt him. But forcing her compliance through brute force would be worse.

He dug his fingers into the arms of his chair. “I’ll have the carriage brought around.”

* * *

It was the longest carriage ride of Esther’s life.

Samuel wouldn’t look at her. He’d pushed his side of the curtains back an inch and had been staring through the small crack since they’d left the house.

Esther watched him through her veil. It didn’t seem to bother him that she was staring. She wasn’t even certain he noticed. His eyes never left the window. It was like she didn’t exist.

Perhaps, in a way, she no longer did to him. He’d imagined her to be someone else, and now that woman was gone.

It was monstrously unfair. Why should he be angry with her, think less of her, for taking a risk he’d not think twice to take himself? Why should she feel guilty for not playing the helpless ninny simply because he asked it of her? Why should she still want him, even knowing she would never be what he wanted?

Suddenly, she found it impossible to look at him. She fixed her gaze on the wall of the carriage and spoke without thinking. “It seems we are more incompatible than we realized.”

She regretted the words almost immediately. They were too final, too absolute. She sought a way to take some part of them back. “I think we could be friends. I should like to be friends.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t say a word to her for the whole of the trip.

It was too late. Unfair or not, Samuel wanted nothing more to do with her.

It would be a simple matter for Samuel to stay out of view at the station. The general offices opened directly onto platform one. He merely introduced himself to a gentleman inside and immediately gained permission to access the office.

But he hesitated on the platform, unwilling to leave Esther alone to wait.

“I will be right behind that wall,” he told her. “Right on the other side of that window. If I see him make one wrong move—”

“I understand.”

“It doesn’t have to go that far,” he pressed on. “He doesn’t have to make that first move. If you want the meeting to end, if you become frightened or uncertain…hell, if you become bored, call for me.”

“I will.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” She gave a jerky, nervous nod. “I do. I will call.”

And still he hesitated to walk away. He took her hand instead, heedless of the curious eyes of the passing travelers.

He’d never experienced such a host of incongruent emotions—anger and fear, longing and frustration. He itched to put them all into words. But the right ones eluded him. So he simply stood there, her small hand grasped in his, until the cool fabric of her glove warmed in his palm.

She stared down at their joined hands as if confused. “He’ll be here soon. You have to go.”

And still he hesitated.

She looked up at him then and gave her hand a little tug. “Samuel—”

“Right.”

He released her hand and strode into the office, taking up position next to an open window.

Esther stood not ten feet away, but with a wall between them, it felt like miles. She was too far away from the window for him to touch, and though he might be able to sneak a look, he couldn’t really watch her without being seen.

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. The warmth of her touch still lingered in his palm.

God, he felt bloody useless.

He told himself that this was no different than the countless times he had stood in the shadows while Renderwell and Gabriel put themselves in the line of fire. He had been nervous then, too. Just as they were when it was his turn to face danger. There was always risk, always the possibility that something could go wrong. His friends were constantly turning up with scrapes and bruises. They laughed them off, teased each other over black eyes, bite marks, and, in his case, bullet holes. It was part of the job.

Today was different. He couldn’t brush off the fear. He could scarcely stop himself from marching back out the door and dragging Esther out of the station. He hadn’t found the red marks around her neck the least bit amusing. The very idea of her injured, of someone laying hands on her, made his hands shake and his blood boil.

This was nothing like working with his friends.

Esther wasn’t his damned friend.

* * *

The young man arrived five minutes early. Esther watched him weave his way through the crowd, her belly tight with nerves. He was dreadfully pale and gaunt, and the circles beneath his eyes were so dark they could be mistaken for bruising. He didn’t look particularly threatening, she thought. But looks could be deceiving. He might be armed. He might have friends about. There was no telling.

She inclined her head in recognition when he drew near.

To her surprise, he plucked the cap off his head as if he’d just stepped into her parlor. “Miss.”

She touched the bag at her waist. “I brought the ten pence.”

“Right. About that… You don’t happen to have a full shilling, do you?”

“I… Yes, I suppose.” He was terribly polite for a blackmailer. “Why do you want a shilling from me?”

“I thought we’d ride to Bower Street station. Thing is, I ain’t got the full fare. I had an extra two pence last Wednesday. I could pay my own one-way fare for third class, but I figured first class’d give us a spot of privacy. You’d have to make up the difference, if you don’t mind. I ain’t but six pennies today.”

“You want to ride the rail?” One of the underground rails. Absolutely not.

His gaze jumped nervously at a rambunctious group of travelers. “Give us a fair bit of privacy, like I said. And I’d get off at Bower Street. You’d only have to pay for me one way. I’ll pay you back when I can.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t ride with you.”

His brows drew together in confusion. “You ain’t scared of me, are you, Miss Walker? I don’t mean you no harm.”

“Miss Walker? I’m sorry, I don’t know that name. I am Mrs. Peterson.” Good Lord, she had an alias for her alias.

“Aye, the other’s not a name you’d want bandied about, I suppose. Thing is, Mrs. Peterson, I thought… I thought maybe I could call you Esther, seeing as how we’re in the way of being family.”

“I’m sorry? Family?”

“Well, I’m Edmund,” he said, as if certain that should mean something to her. The frown of confusion deepened when she didn’t immediately reply. “I’m Edmund Smith. George Smith’s son. I’m your brother.”

“I…” For several long seconds, she was struck mute. She’d considered the possibility of half siblings before. Of course she had. She’d even wondered if she might learn of one or two once she met her father. But she’d never imagined she might meet one like this. “You… I… Could we sit down, please?”

She didn’t wait for his reply. She stumbled back to a bench directly beneath the window where Samuel was listening and sat down hard.

Then she stared at him, simply stared at him.

He was family.
Might
be family, she corrected. He claimed the connection, but could she believe him? She didn’t see much of herself in him. The color of the eyes, maybe, and a similarity about the chin. But physical comparison meant little, particularly when one party was so obviously ill.

“You all right, Esther?” A faint blush crept into his pale cheeks. “That is, miss, if you prefer.” He seemed to reconsider this as well. “Or missus.”

“I…don’t know. Yes?” Good God, why was she asking him?

“It’s a shock to you, my being here, isn’t it? I can see it.” He ducked his head, but not before she saw a terrible sadness fill his eyes. “Didn’t know about me, did you?”

She heard the tremor in his voice, and she knew in that moment that she couldn’t pretend to be someone else. She couldn’t possibly tell this young man she was not the sister he sought. He might be a confidence man. He might be acting the part of the lost and wounded boy for her benefit. But she couldn’t risk the assumption. The cost of being wrong would be too high.

“I’m sorry, Edmund. I’m so sorry. No one told me.”

“Right. Well.” He sniffled a bit and shrugged the way Peter did sometimes when he didn’t want anyone to know he was upset. “Not your fault, is it? Nor mine. And what’s done is done, I suppose.” He gave her a wobbly smile. “And now we’ve met properly, you and me. I knew it were you, you know. In the shop. Well, I thought as much. You look just like the picture.”

“The picture?”

“’Ere.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a leaf of paper, creased down the center and yellowed by age. “See? It’s a fair likeness of you.”

It was an incredible likeness of her as a very young woman. “Where did you get this?”

“Da made it. He saw you now and then, when you was working with Walker. I recognized you at the old clothes shop in Spitalfields. You’re a bit different. Older and such. But I knew for certain it was you when I heard you asking after mean old man Smith.”

“He’s mean?” Oddly, that hadn’t occurred to her either. That her father might be indifferent to her, or even unhappy to see her, had both seemed reasonable expectations. She’d not considered outright meanness.

“Mean as they come, our grandda. If you’ve a mind t’meet him, I’d change it quick. He won’t be welcoming the likes of you or me.”

“Oh. Oh, our
grandfather
.”

“He won’t admit to it. Being family, that is. I went to see him once at his fancy house in Bethnal Green.” A meager hint of pink stained the very tips of his ears. “Kicked me out on me ear.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, feeling stunned. The fancy house in Bethnal Green. The haughty old George Smith on Apton Street. “Our father was named after him,” she guessed.

Edmund nodded. “Aye, George Arnold Smith. But his mates called him Arnie. He said I weren’t to seek you out either. That you was living like a real lady and didn’t need me giving you trouble.”

A real lady. Well, that answered the question of how much George Arnold Smith knew about the Walker family. “I’m glad you sought me out. But why the secrecy? Why did you run from me the last time?”

He shifted nervously in his seat. “You was with Brass.”

“You know Sir Samuel?”

“I know who he is. Brass the Almighty. He was police.”

“He’s not a policeman now.” She watched him twist the hat in his hands. “Are you in trouble, Edmund?”

“Might be I am a little,” he mumbled, his gaze jumping around the crowded station. “I had a proper job working the docks, but I lost it seven months back. I fell in with what you might call unsavory sorts. I want to be rid of ’em, but it’s not that easy.”

No, it wasn’t easy to walk away from that life. “Can’t your father help?”

“Our da?” He gave her a curious look. “He’s gone, miss.”

“Gone? He…he’s dead?”

“These six years. That’s why he gave me the picture. He knew he was going.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

“No.” Her voice sounded small to her own ears. All this time she’d been looking for her natural father, making plans, imagining what he might be like, what she would say to him when they met…and he was gone.

She’d never had the courage to tell Will Walker to go to the devil, and she’d lost the chance to give George Smith his six pounds. She’d waited too long for both.

“Me mum’s passed, too,” Edmund said quietly. “You’re the only family I got.”

His admission pulled her from her own sense of loss and disappointment. “There’s no one else? We’ve no other siblings? Aunts or uncles? Distant cousins?”

“Just our grandda.”

“I see. How old are you, Edmund?”

“I’ll be seventeen in three weeks.”

She was afraid to ask her next question. “And how long ago did your mother die?”

“Four years back.”

On his own since the age of twelve. Oh, she had waited far,
far
too long. “I’m very sorry,” she said quietly. Sorry for so many reasons. Feeling sick, she reached for her bag and the coins inside.

Edmund shook his head at her. “You keep what’s in there to yourself. That’s not why I came here. That’s not why I sought you out. Wanted to meet you, was all.”

Wanted or not, he’d have her help, but she set the money aside for now. “Then why the note? Why didn’t you speak with me that first day in Spitalfields?”

“Right. Well. The thing is…” His expression turned sheepish. “The thing is, I might have shown your picture to a few of the lads, now and then. I didn’t mean no harm by it. I was proud, was all. Pretty lady for a sister. I didn’t…” He made the face again. “I thought you was out of the country.”

“I’m only in London on a visit,” she replied evasively.

“Might be a couple of the lads were with me when I saw you in Spitalfields.”

There were a great many
might bes
in Edmund’s world. “Did they recognize me?” she asked carefully. “Did they know me, Edmund?”

“I don’t know. I pretended like I didn’t. And they pretended like they didn’t. But then John made excuses to be off right quick, and Victor and Danny followed. That’s why I sent the note instead of introducing myself proper. In case someone was watching. I think you should get out of London. Just in case. John’s older brother, Clarence, was hanged next to Horatio Gage, and some people say Will Walker had something to do with it. That he brought the police to Gage’s door.”

“Gage kidnapped a duchess. That’s what brought the police to his door.”

“Aye, no arguing it. But Gage paid his men well. When Clarence hanged, John lost a brother and the money to feed his ma and sisters. His mum took to the streets. He’s got to blame someone.”

“And he blames me?”

Edmund scratched behind his ear and shifted in his seat again. “Your da more. But he weren’t taken by the picture of you, I can tell you that. Sorry. I didn’t know his way of thinking just then.”

“How long ago did he see the picture?”

“Few months back. Maybe two? Said you looked familiar, but I told him you couldn’t. Then I told him who you were.” He cringed a little. “He tried to spit on the picture.”

Esther thought of the rats. The men in the park. Three men. It might not be a coincidence.

She hoped Samuel was able to hear through the window. She briefly considered calling for him now so they could ask Edmund questions about his friends together. There was no way of knowing, however, if Edmund would stay or run the moment he learned they weren’t alone. He was growing more fidgety by the second. She couldn’t take the chance he would bolt before she had answers, and before she convinced him to accept her help.

“Tell me about them,” she pressed Edmund. “John and his friends. What are their full names? What do they look like?”

“John Porter, Victor Norby, and Danny Mapp. They’ve some years on me, and some size. That’s why I took up with them. It helps having big friends in Spitalfields. Or so I thought. John and Victor are dark. Brown hair and eyes. Danny’s like me.” He tugged on a lock of blond hair. “And a bit skinnier than the others. John got a few teeth knocked out of him in a brawl last year. Some people took to calling him Gaping John. Victor’s got pockmarks.”

Esther couldn’t recall if any of the men from the park had spots—the dim light hadn’t allowed for a clear look at all of them. But the one with his hands around her throat had leaned in close and bared his teeth. There had been several missing. “Where do they live?”

“Here and there. Move about a fair bit. I don’t know where they are now.”

“Do you know how to find them? Do they have other friends, or employers? Do you know where their families are?”

“I couldn’t find John if I wanted to. I hardly know any of ’em, really, just the story John told me about his brother after he saw your picture. But none of ’em got proper work. I know that.” He threw another nervous glance over his shoulder. “I can’t stay long. Out in the open like this. It ain’t safe.”