Arnaud might have written them off as a group of friends still on their way home from a night of debauchery. However, there was something a bit off about their clothing. They did not belong amongst Piccadilly Street's wealthy shoppers, or the servants scurrying to and fro, collecting goods for their employers.
As they neared the milliner's shop where the ruffians had assaulted Miss Brancelli, Arnaud spotted the young street sweeps he'd talked to that day. In a move so rapid, he nearly missed it, they disappeared alongside the shop. When Arnaud followed, Cullen stayed behind and faced the three stalkers.
Arnaud raced behind the imps through a narrow passageway barely wide enough for two men shoulder-to-shoulder, but the slightly built sweeps cannonaded along ahead of him. He ran on through the passage and soon caught up, grabbing them by the backs of their filthy shirts.
"Oy," one of them squeaked, and thrashed about, struggling to escape his grasp.
The second boy calmed and gave Arnaud a sullen look. "E's the gull wot gave us coins for news on those kidnap coves,” he told his partner, and coughed up a gob of spit onto the passage walkway.
"And?" Arnaud asked. "What did you find out?"
"Put us down, en we might tell you."
Arnaud tightened his grip on the boys and shook them.
"Aw right," the small spokesman said. "We followed 'em to the Dog and Partridge on Piccadilly. A gent came out and shouted for a while, but then ‘anded over some money. They weren't happy, but neither was ‘e.”
"Where did they go after that?" Arnaud asked.
"They rode off in the hack and ‘eaded out of town. You didn't give us enough blunt to follow 'em that far.”
“If you see them again, there is more where this came from.” He tossed two coins before waving off the boys. He'd heard enough. If he wasn't mistaken, the Dog was a few blocks away from Teddy Seaton's rooms. After the boys tore off down the narrow passageway, Arnaud turned back toward Piccadilly. If Cullen hadn’t been thrashed by the men following them, he’d take him along to Seaton's boarding house on Duke Street.
Arnaud had some serious questions about the kidnapping attempt on Sophie, and if the right answers were not forthcoming, a certain gentleman would wish he had never been born.
By the time he reached Piccadilly, his anger had reached a near boiling point. He stopped mid-stride and shook his head.
What was he thinking? He was on the verge of calling out Lady Howick’s nephew without a shred of proof as to whether or not Mr. Seaton had been involved with the kidnappers.
And what was he doing championing a young woman with nothing to commend her…save the most luminous brown eyes he’d ever seen?
Besides, he’d already made up his mind to marry Frances, a mature, socially connected widow of theton.
The sight of Cullen dusting off his hat he’d retrieved from a window box jarred Arnaud out his thoughts when he emerged back onto Piccadilly.
“What happened?”
“Something must have scared off those three bullies.” Cullen slapped the dust from his hat and re-settled it on his head.
“How so?”
“No sooner did I turn and take off my hat and jacket than they all fled in different directions, like cockroaches. Can’t imagine what disagreed with ‘em.”
Arnaud could. This was not the first time potential adversaries had underestimated his long-time surgeon. Cullen’s cheerful exterior hid a Celt’s temper that was frankly terrifying to behold. And although Cullen was a full head taller than Arnaud, his scholarly attitude made many a footpad assume he was an easy mark.
However, all doubts fled the moment Cullen removed his jacket. Arnaud’s surgeon was hardened from growing up in the Scottish Highlands with his mother’s family. In fact, during many a bloody battle at sea, Arnaud had seen Cullen toss heavy, injured sailors over his shoulder and take them below to the surgery. No wonder the three had fled.
“Any idea who they are?” Arnaud took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his brow. Racing down a tight passageway after the two sweeps had taken a toll.
“One of ‘em looked a bit like one of the kidnappers, but I can’t be sure.” Cullen shook his head. “You’d think two sailors on leave could find better things to get up to than me and thee.”
“We did give ourselves a bit of a conker last night from the dregs of my absinthe.”
“And you with a beautiful lass who follows your every move with her dark eyes. A waste, I tell you, a waste.” Cullen shook his head.
“She doesnot. You’re mistaken. And besides, Miss Brancelli is barely out of leading strings. I could never be the man she deserves at this point in my career.”
“Why not? And in case your eyesight is failing, she appears to me to be a diamond of the first water.”
