way those two men you beat the hell out of in the alley were scary?â
âI was fourteen or fifteen when I met him.â She stood and dusted off her gown. âThatâs the impression I carry.â
âFair enough.â
âGood. Can we leave now?â
âYes.â
She started for the door and was pleased when he followed. She could not wait to go home and go to sleep. Perhaps sheâd take a warm bath first.
âLetâs find this Gabriel.â
Fallon blew out a breath and felt her shoulders slump. âI knew you were going to say that.â
He hailed a hackney cab once they reached St. James again and climbed in after her. âNow where?â she demanded. âSurely you donât propose we search every gambling hell in the city for him.â
He actually seemed to consider the idea.
â Fitzhugh ,â she warned.
âCoachman, take us to Monmouth Street.â
Fallonâs jaw dropped. â Seven Dials ? Iâm not going to Seven Dials. Do you want to get us killed?â
ââAve to agree with the lady, guv,â the jarvey added. âMonmouth is a wee bit unsavory this âour of the night.â
âIâll pay you double,â Fitzhugh stated and pressed the coins into the manâs hand.
The jarvey released the brake. âMonmouth Street!â he called.
âNo!â Fallon had half a mind to jump from the vehicle, but that was a venture almost as dangerous as Seven Dials. âIâll pay you triple to turn back!â she called to the coachman, but either he didnât hear or he had decided money in the hand was worth more than promises.
Fallon blew out a breath. âWhat on earth is in Seven Dials? Other than pickpockets, cutthroats, and gin?â
âThe Merry Widow.â
Fallon gripped the edge of the seat to keep from falling. âA brothel? I donât know what sort of arrangement you think we haveââ
Fitzhugh held up a hand. âA business arrangement.â He leaned across the coach and looked her in the eye. âTrust me, Fallon, if I wanted you, I wouldnât have to take you to an accommodation house. I could have you right here and right now.â
Angry words of denial rose to her lips, but somehow she couldnât utter them. He was ridiculous. She wouldnât allow him to so much as touch her.
Would she?
His dark eyes seemed to challenge her, and she shivered. Perhaps it would be best not to test his assertions. She looked awayâanything to avoid those eyes. âWhat is at The Merry Widow?â
âAn old friend. If she doesnât know where this Gabriel is, no one does.â
Fallon had a thousand questions, but she clamped her mouth shut and refrained from asking. He was a spy. Such men probably had unlikely acquaintances in every city. And she supposed if this woman helped them find Gabriel then she couldnât complain. Fallon wanted out of this partnership, and the sooner the better.
The coach passed the sundial at the junction of the seven streets that made up the area of Seven Dials, and Fallon pulled the hood of her mantle around her face and burrowed into the soft material. She could take care of herself, but that didnât mean she looked for trouble. It was a short jaunt down Monmouth and then the hackney slowed and stopped in front of a dilapidated building. Fallon wondered if a building existed in Seven Dials that didnât look as though it had been lifted by some giant hand, spun around, and dropped back down again.
ââEre ye are, guv. Quick as can be.â
Fitzhugh climbed out of the coach and held out his hand for Fallon. She pushed it away and climbed out on her own, ignoring the amused look in his eyes. She wasnât going to allow him to pick and choose times to play the gentleman, and she wouldnât be fooled. He might be the son of an earlâshe looked up at the lurid sign proclaiming The Merry Widow with a
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley