No Place for a Lady by Jade Lee Read Free Book Online

less than a moment for Ballast's men to react to Fantine's sudden attack, but that was all Marcus needed. The one just behind him was most vulnerable. Spinning around, Marcus landed a heavy blow to the man's chin. Pain sliced up Marcus's arm through his shoulder, but he still smirked as the unconscious lout slid down the wall.
    Marcus had less than a second to stop the other cutthroat who was already aiming to throw his knife through Fantine's neck. Marcus didn't have time to grab him, so he took his only other option.
    Reaching down, he grabbed the nearest item, a spittoon, and flung it across the room. By some miracle, the object was empty and therefore much easier to aim. A split second later, the heavy metal connected with the head of the second brute.
    The man stumbled, coughed, and groaned, giving Marcus enough time to close in and finish the job. As for Fantine, she pinned Ballast against the wall, pushing the point of his own dagger against his neck. As Marcus straightened from the second unconscious thug, he saw a single drop of blood ease slowly down the sharp edge of the blade in Fantine's hand.
    "Ye're dead, the both o' ye," said Ballast, his voice hoarse as Fantine pressed her forearm into his windpipe.
    "Seems t' me," she said, her accent slipping as she discarded her seductive attitude, "I've 'eard that from you before."
    Ballast's face turned nearly purple with outrage, but he never produced a sound. Not when a high-pitched voice near the door said all he needed to.
    "But this time ye really are dead."
    Marcus spun around, seeing the boy Sprat framed in the doorway. Reacting without thought, he snatched the child's arm, dragging him into the room before slamming the door shut. It was easily done, but it was also obvious—especially as the door thudded loudly into place.
    Every man and woman on the other side of that door now knew something was amiss.
    From across the room, Marcus could hear Fantine groan, and he could only echo the sentiment. They had been caught before. Now they were trapped, and unless they found something to bargain with fast, they would soon be dead. His name would not protect him now, especially if his body was never found, never traced back here.
    He looked up, catching Fantine's eye and seeing fear and desperation there. Then suddenly she frowned, her gaze flicking speculatively between Marcus and the boy struggling in his arms.
    She was planning something, but what he couldn't guess. Meanwhile, Fantine turned back to Ballast, continuing to press their rapidly shrinking advantage.
    "I want that name, Ballast. Now."
    "Wot name?" he croaked out.
    "The name of the cove who wants Wilberforce dead."
    Ballast screwed up his face as if to spit at her, but she pressed the knife point deeper into his throat. Finally he spoke, his words forced out between clenched teeth. "Ye ain't gettin' nuttin'."
    "I got somethin'," she said on a low whisper. "An' I'm still willing t' deal if ye talk." She took a deep breath, shooting a silent plea to Marcus before turning back to Ballast. "I got a lord in me pocket," she said. "An' you got a boy abo' the right age fer Harrow."
    Marcus had been listening closely, but it still took a moment for her words to penetrate his thoughts. Harrow? The elite school that he himself had attended so many years ago? She could not possibly be suggesting...
    "What?" Marcus exploded, but no one was listening to him. Even the boy stilled, his agile mind no doubt absorbing what Fantine offered even faster than Marcus could.
    "Think about it," continued Fantine. "Yer boy in Harrow, mixing with all them future earls and dukes. Think wot he could learn. Think wot he could do."
    Ballast was considering it. As was the boy. As was Marcus himself, and it made him feel quite ill. The son of a dockside criminal... in Harrow!
    "Do not even begin to suggest—" began Marcus in stiff accents, but then they ran out of time. Marcus was leaning against the door, using his weight to keep it shut,