The boy’s cheeks reddened in the last light of day. ‘I ain’t no gentleman. I’m no coward neither.’
‘You certainly aren’t.’ Killian held the gold coin in his open palm. ‘This is for your loyalty to Sarah Bright.’
The boy snatched the coin quicker than a striking adder. He bit the metal and used a broken thumbnail to scratch at the surface before nodding his head in approval.
‘I’m trying to find the man who killed her.’ Killian hunkered down to the boy’s level. ‘I could use the help of a brave, smart lad like yourself. If you think of anything that might help me, you can leave word at the Crown and Bull. Do you know where that is?’
‘Course I do. That’s where all the toffs in London go to drink their beer, innit? They wouldn’t let me in there.’
‘They will if you give them my name. Lieutenant General Killian, Duke of Covington.’
‘’Caw. You’re a dukeanda Lieutenant General? You ever kill someone?’
‘Only when I had to.’ He wished he could have added that he’d never killed any innocents. But he fought in a war. Innocents died on both sides. They always had and always would. ‘Theremight be more guineas in it for you if your information helps me find my man.’
The boy carefully closed his fingers over the coin. ‘Wot will you do when you find ’em?’
‘I’ll make sure he’s charged for his crimes and faces judgment.’
The boy glanced behind him again, then broke into a cheeky grin, displaying a prominent gap in his front teeth. ‘I think I’ll help that lady instead.’ Killian followed the boy’s gaze in the deepening shadows of early evening as Miss Simmons emerged from the doorway. ‘She says she’ll kill ’em. ’Ooever he is, he deserves to die, don’t he? For murdering my sister.’
Hannah missed her dagger profoundly. Thankfully, she had a pistol strapped to her thigh, a replacement dagger on the other side, another blade in her left pocket, and several throwing knives secured to various parts of her body. One did not come to Bethnal Green of an evening without appropriate accessories.
Still, it wouldn’t pay to dally. Sarah Bright’s parents had given Hannah much to ponder, and she needed to speak with Philippa. This could alter the course of their inquiry.
Sarah had been a shining success story in the Bright family’s impoverished lives. She was fifteen when she got her job at Lord Bradford’s and seventeen when the dockworker found her body in a casket in the shipping yard. Scratch marks on the inside of the coffin indicated Sarah was alive when the monster put her inside.
Sarah’s parents didn’t expect justice for their daughter. But her brother, a boy of nine, with ancient eyes and the gap-toothed smile of a cherub, made Hannah promise to exact vengeance on Sarah’s killer right before he scurried out the front door.
‘And how the bloody hell am I going to do that?’ Hannahquestioned aloud as she pulled her cloak tight against the damp cold.
Early evening had quickly shifted into full darkness. Hannah would have to walk twenty minutes west towards St Paul’s Cathedral before she had any hope of finding a hackney cab. Quickening her pace, she shifted her gaze from the street to the shadowed alleys. The hair raised on the back of her neck. She was being followed.
She had spotted the gentleman when exiting the courtyard of Sarah Bright’s house. He matched her pace as she clipped past another alleyway in her leather boots. Hannah rolled her shoulders back and reached into the clever slit sewn into her skirts. She could easily reach the pistol holstered against her thigh. It was primed and ready.
Five men emerged from the shadows in front of her, complicating an already less than ideal situation.
‘Drat.’ Six men in total. She would have to fight fast and dirty. The chances of her dress being irrevocably soiled were high. She liked this dress. It was a pity.
‘What’s a quality piece of muff like you doing down ’ere?’ The leader established himself by taking a point position. His four friends spanned out behind him.
Hannah would eliminate him first. Hopefully, the others would be discouraged from further mischief if their leader went down hard.
‘Minding my own business, sir. I would encourage you gentlemen to do the same.’
‘Oi lads, she’s got a mouth on ’er, this one. I like my ladies with a bit of fight in ’em. Makes the whole thing more fun.’ The leader’s hand snaked down to his crotch where he rubbed himself. One of the men behind him laughed, a high-pitched giggle that skated cold fingers down Hannah’s spine.
‘You won’t like the way I fight, sir.’ Hannah wrapped her fingers around her weapon. She cocked the pistol in its leather holster and gauged the distance between herself and the leader.
He grinned at her, his stained and broken teeth barely visible in the moonlight.
‘Leave summink for us.’ The bruiser behind him shouted to a chorus of male laughter.
The leader took a step closer.
‘I think it best you turn around and leave, sir. This is the only warning I’ll give you.’ Hannah narrowed her gaze. Fear wanted to run riot, but she clamped down on the useless emotion, focusing instead on things she could control. Her breathing. Her finger resting on the trigger. Her body position. She slid her leg back, widening her stance and increasing her balance.
The man spat into the street. ‘That’s rich, that is. A little piece of fluff like you warning us? Hah!’
