“What the devil?” he snarled.
He didn’t recognize the boy, just a street urchin, a pickpocket from the hells of the East End. There were thousands like him. But the boy recognized him. His grimy face went slack, and his eyes became large as dinner plates. He froze.
“It… it be the…G-general?” he stammered.
Recognition struck Gideon as if the boy had cast a stone to strike him between the eyes.
This young thief knew him.
Not the Duke of Winchester or even Gideon Tarnley.
The boy knew the name that had once struck terror into the underworld. The name that Gideon had carried like a cloak, which had pulled him out of the mire of poverty.
He let the youth go, stepping back, discomfited.
Catherine’s expression was confused.
“What do you mean, child? What did you call him?”
The boy was shaking, staggering back without taking his eyes from Gideon.
“Sorry, guv. I didn’t know. Don’t hurt me?”
“Get out of here!” Gideon roared, “Before I call the constables!”
The boy ran, swerving around surprised ladies and gentlemen, sprinting like a hare for the waiting streets beyond the greenery of the park. Gideon was seething, fists clenched, glaring after the boy.
Catherine curled a brow at him. “What did he mean?” she asked.
His jaw tightened. “Nothing. He was only a thief.”
Her gaze did not leave his. “He recognized you. I saw it. There was fear in his eyes—”
“I said it was nothing!” His voice rose, sharp and clipped. “The weather is turning. We should return to Caerleon.”
Some clouds had bunched on the horizon, but were far from troubling the sun.
“I don’t wish to leave,” she countered, defiance bright in her eyes. “I saw it. You were recognized, and you are hiding something.”
His ire surged. “Do you spy on me? Watch my every motion? Did you arrange this?”
Catherine looked astonished. “Arrange a pick-pocketing? How would I do that, pray tell?”
“I don’t know, but you have done nothing but question me about my past, and now this,” he muttered, defensively.
What would she do if she knew the truth? Would her Aunt and Uncle be preferable to being married to one of the most notorious criminals in London?
“I have done nothing but observe,” she replied evenly. “It is hardly subterfuge to notice another’s reaction.”
She had followed the urchin’s retreat until he was lost to sight. Now she glanced around with a smile, as though simply admiring the bright peacocks who paraded for the sake of being seen. Gideon stalked a few steps ahead, his coat flaring slightly behind him.
He stopped by the edge of the treeline, mind racing. Then turned back to Catherine, conscious of the eyes that examined their every move. Forcing a shoddy smile, he clasped his hands behind his back.
“Shall we partake of some shade?” he suggested.
Catherine walked gracefully towards him.
“That would be lovely. The sun is a trifle too hot today.”
