“I grow weary of this conversation.” He peered at the little thief. “Would you rather we head down to the flames, Teddy Mac?”
The boy shook his head, swallowing so hard his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. “Miss Devine, she owns the house over there.” He pointed to a large three-story building with peeling gray paint and a general air of neglect. The sound of piano playing met Nick’s ears just as a couple of sailors stumbled out of the establishment, slapping each other on the shoulder.
“Sometimes, if I run an errand for her, Miss Devine feeds me a bit of meat pie or sausage in the kitchen. It's warm and the ladies that live there sometimes bring me a sweet.” He swallowed again. “They was talking about a lady who came to Miss Devine and rented a room. Miss Devine thought the lady wished one of the girls to come to her room, but it wasn't like that.”
“What was it like?” Nick murmured as he studied the brothel.
“She just wanted the room. The girls were talking that maybe the red-haired lady might want to consort with a sailor or such—”
“Do you even know what that word means?” Nick queried.
“—And that's why she wanted the room. The girls said the red-haired lady called them all whores. Leggy Lucy said there weren’t no man who’d want to consort with that woman.”
“Indeed?” Jem was in that brothel with Lady Corbett and Augie. Nick would bet his life on it.
Slowly he eased his hold on Teddy Mac but still held tight to the lad's shirt. “I’ll give you my purse if you find out which room the red-haired lady rents.”
“Your purse?” The boy's face took on a look of wonderment. “All of it? And you won't damn me? Won't take my soul?”
“What would I do with a pickpocket’s soul?” Nick scoffed, letting go of Teddy Mac. “Show me,” he commanded, “and I’ll not only give you my purse but a place to sleep and plenty to eat.” Peabody would find a spot at Dunbar House for the boy. He could work in the stables or sweep up the soot from the fireplace. Anything would be better than waiting to be hung for stealing a gentleman’s purse.
“Truly?” the boy said, astonishment visible under the layers of grime that coated his face.
“You have my oath.” Nick glanced at the wharf, but there was no sign of Colin or Rowan. “Once you show me, you’re to come back out here and wait until you see a golden-haired man with a scar on his face. You tell him where I’ve gone, and you’ll sleep with a full belly tonight.”
Teddy Mac nodded in agreement as one small, filthy hand pulled at Nick's sleeve and led him into Miss Devine's.
* * *
“I loved your father.”
Jemma's breath came in shallow gasps as she opened her eyes. A rat scurried under the bed and through a hole in the wall. The piano player downstairs played in earnest while the drunken laughter of men and women floated up through the floorboards. “I didn’t suspect.” She kept her voice soothing, hoping that she could still possibly talk some sense into Lady Corbett. She looked at the gun held loosely in the woman’s fingers.If I could just get my other hand free.
“Yes," Lady Corbett said, her face wrinkling mournfully. “I thought William a delightful man. Just delightful. That was why I had to get rid of your mother,” she said with conviction. “I thought William would turn to me, you see, and we could dispose of that toad, George. But he didn’t turn to me.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the door. Even with the noise from downstairs, Jemma could clearly make out the heavy tread of a large man.Nick.It had to be Nick. She kept her eyes on Lady Corbett and the pistol. The Governor’s wife seemed lost in her memories of the past and didn’t appear to hear the footsteps coming towards the room.
“My father spoke fondly of you, and often. He held you in high regard.” She choked out the words.Please, let it be Nick.
The footsteps came closer.
“Did he?” Lady Corbett smiled. “Well, then I suppose I should have made those cakes for George rather than your father.” The pistol dangled from her hand, and she aimed it directly at Jemma’s heart. Lady Corbett regarded her with unabashed glee. “But I’m still going to shoot you, you little tart.”
The door shuddered and broke on its hinges, bursting open in a spray of splinters and peeling paint. A dark shadow hovered in the hall.
Startled, Lady Corbett dropped the pistol and the weapon slid across the floor.
Jemma immediately stretched her fingers to reach the pistol, wanting to scream with fear and frustration when she couldn’t quite reach it.
“If you're looking for one of Miss Devine's girls,” Lady Corbett addressed the large form blocking the doorway, “you've got the wrong room. The only whore in here isn't for sale."
“I’ll thank you not to call the future Duchess of Dunbar a whore,” a gravelly voice replied matter-of-factly.
Jemma nearly shook with relief.Nick. It was Nick.
From her place on the floor, Jemma watched as Lady Corbett sidled over to Nick, giving him a flirtatious smile. “Well, if it isn't my erstwhile house guest, Mr. Shepherd, or should I say Your Grace?” Lady Corbett stepped over the pistol until it was hidden beneath her skirts.
“Jem? Are you all right?” He never once looked away from Lady Corbett.
