“Behold!” he called out in a booming voice. “The wonder that was once dragons!”
He took a sip from the pewter tankard he held, strode around the edge of the makeshift circle, before taking up position in its center. He held up the torch, puckered his mouth slightly as though to whistle, spewed liquid, and when he drew the torch away, a stream of fire arced upward into the darkness above. When the fire vanished, he spread his arms wide and smiled broadly. “Are you entertained?”
The crowd was deafening with their cheers, and once again, he strode around the perimeter, before moving to the center and giving those watching another display of his control over fire. Once. Twice. Three times.
Matthew could fairly feel Miss Trewlove shimmering with excitement in his arms, and he rather wished he’d been the one responsible for her trembling, her exhilaration. Yet he couldn’t deny the Fire King deserved the adulation showered on him, as his minions gathered up the coins tossed at his feet.
He handed his torch and tankard off to someone and gave a sweeping bow before raising his arms high. “Thank you, my friends. Please be gracious enough to move on and allow others in before the next performance in fifteen minutes.”
Matthew lowered his mouth to the delicate shell of her ear, so he wouldn’t have to shout. “I suppose we should be moving on.”
“Not yet.”
Glancing in the direction she was looking, he realized the Fire King was striding purposely in a direct path toward her. As though anticipating his arrival, she moved out of Matthew’s arms, which caused him to have an instant dislike for the man.
“Hello, Fancy.” Leaning down, he bussed a quick kiss over her cheek—which she’d turned up to him—and it took everything within Matthew not to punch the bloke’s perfect nose.
“The last time I saw you, you were swallowing fire.”
“Got bored with that. Decided breathing it was more exciting.”
“How do you do it?”
“Tricks of the trade, my sweet.”
My sweet?A bloodied nose was becoming more a probability.
Fancy—damn it, if this man could address her as such, Matthew could certainly think of her with less formality—turned slightly. “Fire King, meet Mr. Sommersby.”
“Mister?” The Fire King—what a ridiculous name—repeated. “Thought you were destined for a duke, my girl.”
My girl?A bloodied nose and a blackened eye, perhaps, were in order. And did every person in Christendom know she was on the hunt for a lord?
“We’re not married,” she said. “We’re simply friends enjoying a night of entertainment.”
“Your brothers don’t know about him, I suspect.”
“No, and you’re not going to tell them.”
“When would I have the opportunity? I haven’t seen them in ages.” He gave Matthew a long once-over. “Take care of her, mate.”
Then he was striding off with his torch and tankard bearer striving to catch up.
“You didn’t mention you knew him.” Matthew modulated his tone, striving not to sound jealous.
“I met him shortly after he began performing. The Fire King. What young girl wouldn’t be captivated? He has quite a following.”
“I imagine he does.”
She angled her head slightly. “You sound jealous.”
“Don’t be absurd.” He was being absurd enough for both of them.
She slipped her arm around his. “Shall we see what other entertainments await us?”
Growing up, Fancy had always enjoyed the nights when the streets transformed into a festival. Some of these people made their living performing while others brought out their talents only on those occasions when they could share the attention. She suspected it wasn’t an easy life, but then very little in the rookeries was.
But on nights like this it was so lively, so energetic. And she certainly enjoyed sharing it with Mr. Sommersby. He seemed at once enthralled and wary, as though expecting to be attacked at any moment. Although she knew all she had to do was say, “I’m Fancy Trewlove,” and any bad characters would skitter away. Such was her brothers’ reputation and power in this area of London. While Mick, Aiden, and Finn were no longer a part of the rookeries, like Beast now, they had at one time ruled them. Anyone with any sense at all avoided getting on the wrong side of a Trewlove. It always ended badly, and not for the Trewloves.
