Was it any wonder that he didn’t want to expose this ugliness to Primrose? Guilt churning, he told himself that it was for the best to protect her from the darkness that Kitty had brought into both their lives. His gut clenched as he recalled Primrose’s revelations about Coyner—he hadn’t known the truth of her history until she’d told him.
He’d been aware that Primrose was reunited with her mama at age eight, but the circumstances surrounding that reunion had been shadowed in secrecy. When Kitty had re-entered his life sometime after that, she’d said that she’d dealt with a solicitor, had never known the identity of the man she’d sold Primrose to—only that he was some upstanding gent who’d promised to treat the girl like his own.
I did right by Primrose, Kitty had claimed.
Andrew hadn’t pressed her for details; a part of him hadn’t wanted to know. All that had mattered was that Primrose was back in the loving bosom of her family, and, by all accounts, a happy, carefree child.
Hearing from Primrose about this bastard Coyner and his vile plans… it had made Andrew want to punch something. Himself, for starters. As relieved as he was that nothing had happened to her, he hated that he’d failed her. Hated that he’d allowed her to be exposed to such risk.
“We’re almost there.”
Kent’s words refocused him. Looking out the window, he saw they were deep in the heart of the rookery, on a street crammed with flash houses, taverns, and pawnshops. Gangs of ruffians eyed their passing carriage, spitting on the ground.
“I cannot wait to get my hands on the bastard who shot at Rosie,” Harry said grimly.
The words echoed Andrew’s own thoughts. He was surprised to see a bloodthirsty gleam behind the other’s spectacles. Apparently a vein of ferocity ran beneath that scholarly mien.
Maybe he and Harry had more in common than he realized.
“You’ll have to get in queue,” Andrew said.
Harry looked at him—and grinned.
“Let’s keep the bloodshed to a minimum, shall we?” Kent muttered as the carriage rolled to a stop. “Although, from the looks of it, there may be plenty to go around.”
Vaulting from the carriage, Andrew could see what the other meant. A pack of brutes milled in front of their destination, a decrepit tenement. At a glance, he counted a dozen men.
“Welcoming party, I see.” The comment came from McLeod, who along with Lugo and three additional guards, had joined them from the other carriage.
“Twelve to our eight,” was Lugo’s laconic reply.
“I like those odds,” Andrew said.
The partners looked at him—and grinned.
Shaking his head, Kent led their group toward the tenement. They hadn’t made it within ten feet of the entrance when a hulking, whiskered fellow in the rough-woven uniform of the stews blocked their path.
“Wot’s yer business ’ere, eh?” he demanded.
“We’re here to see someone,” Kent said calmly. “Step aside, if you please.”
“Ye ’ear that? The guv’s ’ere toseesomeone.” Turning to his snickering companions, the man said, “Any o’ ye expectin’ such fine company?”
“Not me,” a gap-toothed fellow called out. “Already ’ad me tea wif the King yesterday.”
More guffaws came from the group.
“Step aside,” Kent repeated. “I will not ask again.”
“And I’ll not take orders on me turf from some nob.” A knife flashed in the leader’s grip. “Be gone, or I’ll gut ye like a fish.”
When Kent didn’t budge, the brute charged. The investigator moved quickly for a man of his size, neatly sidestepping his attacker at the same time grabbing hold of the other’s arm, wrenching away the weapon with efficient force. The man yowled with pain, his knife clattering to the stones.
Pandemonium erupted.
A cutthroat came at Andrew, swinging for his head. He ducked the blow and went in low, plowing his fists into the other’s gut. The other staggered back a few steps, then came again. Andrew feigned to the right, catching his attacker off balance and landing a right hook to the jaw. Bone cracked against bone, the impact searing down Andrew’s arm. The other collapsed to the ground in a heap.
His blood fired up, Andrew took stock of the situation: Lugo and McLeod were fighting in tandem, fallen cutthroats piling around them. Kent and the guards were also holding their own. He spotted Harry being circled by three villains. As he sprinted over, he saw Harry’s powerful hook and jab combination, and his brows rose.
