The Rogue You Know (Covent Garden Cubs) (9 page)

Beezle might very well be on his way too, if he’d gotten word of Gideon’s activities this morning. And Beezle always knew everyone’s comings and goings. Gideon didn’t have time for Strawberry’s tender heart—not if he wanted to save his own arse.

“Yes, you are,” Gideon said, grabbing her arm again and pulling her.

“No!” She turned her big brown eyes on him.

Oh no. Not the eyes. Gideon bit the inside of his cheek until it hurt. He would not fall prey to that pleading look in her eyes again.

“We can’t leave Jemma and Bess here for Dagger Dan. And we certainly cannot force them out on the streets.”

Gideon pointed at Bess, whose eyes were as wide as Strawberry’s now. Even the brat was watching them with surprise and shock. “You heard her. She owes Dan blunt. You got any blunt?”

“No.” Strawberry looked down.

“And even if you did, Dan will want revenge now. The only way she’ll survive is on the streets.” It was a ludicrous statement. No one survived long on the streets.

“We have to do something!”

“
You
do something. I’m leaving before Dan or someone worse shows up.”

“Beezle,” Bess murmured. “I heard he was after you.”

He reached for the door, but Strawberry skirted around him and closed it. “Who is this Beezle everyone keeps talking about? Why does he want you?”

Gideon started to reply and found he had nothing to say. “You don’t want to know, and if we don’t leave now, you’re apt to find out.”

“Fine,” she agreed. The bloody woman did not have any sense!

“But I’m not leaving until I give her a letter of introduction.”

“A letter of—what the hell are you talking about?” he yelled. Gideon knew he was yelling, and he knew that was a mistake. He’d lost his temper, which was a bad sign. He never lost his temper, but the woman was talking about letters.
Letters
, for God’s sake!

“This is not the time for fucking correspondence.”

She pointed a finger at him. “Watch your mouth. There’s a child present.”

Gideon couldn’t even form words. He tried to speak, but his mouth would not work. Finally, he covered his eyes with his hands and banged his head against the wall. “We’re doomed. This is it. Done in by letter writing.”

“I’ll be quick,” she said.

She’d be quick. She’d better hope Beezle killed her quickly, because death was the only thing coming to them quickly.

“Do you have a pen and paper?” she asked.

Gideon let out a weak laugh.

“No, miss. Well, actually, I do have this old pamphlet.”

Gideon opened his eyes. Bess had set the brat back on her feet and rushed to a cupboard. She opened it and drew out a paper advertising a play. “I sewed some of the costumes for the production,” she said proudly.

Strawberry turned it over. “This will work. I need something to write with. Do you have anything that will leave a mark?”

The brat tugged her mother’s sleeve. “Mamma, your sewing kit.”

Bess’s brow creased, and then her face lit up. “Yes! My marking pencil. You could use that.” She rushed to the pallet, pushed it forward, and pulled out her sewing kit. She’d obviously kept this one thing of value hidden. She set it on the bed, knelt before it, and took out a marking pencil.

“Perfect.” Susanna set her blasted glim-stick on the floor, took the pencil, and flattened the pamphlet on the crate. She spoke as she wrote. “You are to take this to the Derring town house in Mayfair.” She gave the address. “Ask to see the dowager countess, and tell her you come with a message from me.”

“A countess?” Bess shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

Seeing his chance at escape, Gideon waved a hand. “Yes, you can. This is her daughter. She’ll welcome news of her.”

Bess’s eyes grew even larger as she looked at Susanna from head to toe. Strawberry continued to write. “Tell her I asked her to give you a position in the household. I’m writing it all here.” She lifted her hand and indicated the pamphlet. “You’ll be safe there, and we can always use a good seamstress.”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Bess stammered.

Gideon yanked Strawberry to his side as soon as she lowered the pencil and snatched the glim-stick.

“Say good-bye. We’re leaving.” She stumbled as he pulled her into the corridor.

Gideon hadn’t survived in the rookeries this long without knowing how to keep his head down when a Bow Street Runner or the arch rogue of another gang was looking for him. Beezle knew most of his hidey-holes, but he had one or two he’d kept to himself. He needed to go underground until nightfall, when he and Strawberry would be less conspicuous. They’d hide for a few hours, allow the trail to go cold, and when it grew dark, make their way to Vauxhall Gardens. He’d have his necklace back tonight and be gone by dawn tomorrow.

Gideon led Strawberry and Beauty through every rabbit hole, back alley, and cut-through he knew. No one could have tracked him, not even one of his fellow rooks. The problem was that Strawberry stood out like a diamond or, considering her hair, a ruby, glinting in the dirt.

Men stopped to ogle her. Women whispered about her. Children swarmed her, trying to touch her gown or her hair. Beauty gently dissuaded the most curious. Gideon never thought he’d be grateful for the dog. But even the dog brought them more attention. He heaved a sigh of relief when he tapped on the back door of a fencing ken in Field Lane.

Strawberry leaned against the wall beside the door. The fact that she didn’t ask any questions demonstrated how exhausted she must have been. They’d traveled from Mayfair to St. Giles to north of Holborn Hill. They’d had almost nothing to eat and very little sleep.

Gideon would have expected Strawberry to complain and whine by now, but she’d not said a word.

He also would have expected her to look like a well-used mop. Instead, she was more beautiful than when he’d first seen her all clean and tidy in the town house library. Her beauty was dangerous in that way. He’d accustom himself to her large brown eyes or her thick red-blond hair, and then the next time he caught a glimpse of her, it was like seeing her for the first time again.

She stole his breath away, even with a torn dress and her hair a mass of tangled curls down her back.

She seemed to have no idea of her allure. She leaned against the building with her head tilted back and her eyes closed. For the moment, Gideon had his fill of her. The shadow of lashes on a marble cheek, marred with a streak of ash. The long, graceful sweep of her neck. The swell of her breasts rising from the vee at the bodice of the gown. He imagined hooking one finger into that neckline and ripping it away, exposing her flesh to his eyes and his hands and his mouth…

Beauty yipped at him, and Gideon focused on the warped wood of the door. He rapped again, harder this time. Fencing was a profession largely conducted under cover of darkness, and he would be surprised if Des was out of bed before noon.

The dog knew what she was about, protecting her adopted mistress. Gideon wanted her, and the realization of it hit him hard enough that he slammed his fist into the door again. When had he begun to crave tasting her, touching her? He couldn’t pinpoint one exact time, but there were a thousand little slips on the slope of desire.

He’d kissed her hand last night, and the sweet taste of her flesh had been intoxicating.

She’d fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder, and rather than shove her off, he’d wrapped an arm about her to keep her warm, and listened to her quiet breathing for hours.

He’d watched her march to confront Dagger Dan with absolutely no trace of fear. That had been sheer ignorance. She wouldn’t have been so foolish if she’d known what the man could do. The way she’d stood, the way her face had colored, the way she’d tossed her hair in anger—just remembering it made his cock harden with need.

“Des!” Gideon yelled. “Open the fucking door!”

Beauty barked several times in support, reaching up to scratch the door with her front paws. The rains had revealed white fur underneath all the dirt, and with a good bath, the mongrel would actually be a handsome beast. She had a slim snout and bright eyes and a way of prancing that said she was too good for the other dogs huddled under carts or scavenging in rubbish.

“Perhaps he’s not at home,” Strawberry said. She stood straight now, her eyes on the upper windows of the fencing ken.

“He’s home, and he’ll let me in. He owes me.”

“What does he owe you?”

Gideon heard heavy footsteps behind the door. “A favor.”

The door cracked open, and Gideon pushed it wider, causing Des to stumble back. The man looked like he’d been up all night. He probably had. His blond hair stood out at all angles, and the stubble on his chin glinted gold in the sunlight. His eyes were shot through with red, making the blue color even brighter.

“Wot the fuck do you want?” he growled.

“Watch your language,” Gideon said with a grin. He jerked a thumb at Strawberry. “There’s a lady present.”

“What lady?”

The door opened wider to reveal a buxom brunette in a shift that hid absolutely nothing of her lush curves. In fact, she might have looked more respectable naked.

“A real lady, Brenna. Move aside so we can come in.”

Strawberry didn’t move, her gaze riveted on Brenna, so Gideon prodded her forward. When Beauty tried to follow, Des held up a hand.

“The dog stays outside.”

Strawberry’s chin notched up two inches, and Gideon wanted to weep. They’d been so close.
So
close.

“If Beauty stays outside, so do I,” she said, her tone haughty.

Des’s blue eyes all but popped out of his head. He looked at Gideon, the unspoken question so loud, Gideon almost winced.

“Miss Susanna Derring, meet Des…what the hell is your surname anyway?”

Brenna pushed Des out of the way. “Where are your manners? Let’s make the introductions inside. You can bring the dog, love.” The hint of an Irish accent hung about Brenna’s words. The London accent hadn’t quite overtaken it.

Inside, Brenna lit a lamp and bid everyone to sit on the mismatched chairs scattered about the tiny living quarters behind the shop. The shop was shuttered at the moment, but Des would open it later, displaying the silk wipes prominently and exchanging blunt for goods quick as lightning.

While Brenna bustled about making tea, Gideon tried the introductions again.

“Desmond Stewart, but everyone calls me Des,” he interrupted. “This is Brenna, and you, Miss Susanna Derring, are new to Field Lane.”

“She is, and we’re in a bit of trouble.”

Des laughed. “When are you not in trouble? I suppose you want to hole up here for the day. Well, I don’t need your trouble coming in here—”

“Des!” Brenna slammed a cup on the table with enough force that Gideon worried it would shatter. “Of course they’re welcome. We can’t put this girl out on the streets.”

“Ye’re certainly free with the invitations, considering this isn’t even yer home.”

Susanna’s eyes widened, and Gideon figured she’d just then realized Des and Brenna weren’t married.

Gideon leaned back in his chair, his tired muscles glad for the respite. “I didn’t want to have to mention this, but you do owe me a favor.”

“Then don’t mention it,” Des snapped.

“Now what’s this?” Brenna crossed her arms over her chest, causing the shift to dip even lower.

“A trifle,” Des answered. “You can stay until nightfall, and we’re even. There’s room in the cellar.”

“The cellar!” Brenna sloshed the tea she’d been pouring on the table, and Gideon had to yank his hand away to prevent it from being burned. “Look at these poor folk. We’ll give them the bedroom.”

She set the kettle down, but before she could reach for the bread she’d set out, Des pulled her into his lap. “I thought we were using the bedroom.”

She giggled and waved a hand at him. “Time enough for that later.”

“There’d better be.” Des gave her a playful kiss and tugged her bodice down, revealing one bulbous breast. He tweaked it, then set her on her feet and lightly swatted her bottom. Brenna laughed, adjusted her shift, and set out bread and jam.

Gideon reached for the bread, but Strawberry didn’t so much as breathe. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Her face was as red as her hair, and her mouth shaped into a small
O
. No doubt she was shocked by the display of affection she’d just witnessed.

Gideon rather liked the idea of shocking her further.

When they’d eaten, Beauty curled up by the stove to stretch her full belly, and Brenna led Strawberry upstairs to wash and change. Gideon recounted the events of the past night and morning to Des, and by the time he was done, Brenna tiptoed down the stairs, wearing Strawberry’s silk ball gown.

“She’s asleep. Poor love is exhausted.”

Gideon indicated the too-small gown that stretched to the point of ripping over her hips and breasts. “Did you steal her clothes?”

“I gave her one of my dresses. If you’re to continue dragging her through London, Gideon Harrow, this isn’t the most practical attire.”

“It looks fetching on you,” Des said with a look in his eyes Gideon knew well.

“How did you find her?” Brenna asked. “I vow she’s innocent as a babe. Asked if Des and me were married.” She guffawed at that thought. “Blushed to the roots of her hair when I stripped this gown off her.” She pointed at Gideon. “You’d better be careful with her. She’s a virgin or I’m not Brenna O’Shea.”

Gideon raked a hand through his hair. His eyelids were heavy, and he envied Strawberry her slumbers. “I wouldn’t touch her,” he said. “The sooner I’m rid of her, the better.”

“Good,” Brenna said with a nod.

“Very good,” Des said. “Come sit on my lap, Brenna love.”

“Oh, I’m Brenna love now, am I? Before, I was too free with the invitations.”

“My mistake.” Des tugged her down, and Gideon rose.

“I’ll just…” But they weren’t paying him any heed. He made his way upstairs, leaving Brenna’s giggles behind. The door of the one room above had been left cracked. Strawberry lay on the bed, one hand curled under her chin. She wore one of Brenna’s dresses, a pretty green material that swirled around her legs. The smudge of ash was gone from her cheek, and her hair fanned out around her head like a halo of fire.