“What do you want me to do?” Harry said quietly.
Davies rested his arms on his knees, his expression pensive. “Earn Black’s trust. The bastard has a small inner circle: if you’re allowed entry, you’ll have access to valuable information. Keep your eyes and ears open for any details—about his business, his family—that might help us connect him to The Pearl. Butobserveonly: we don’t want another Popay situation on our hands.”
Harry nodded. A former member of the force, William Popay had worked in civilian clothes to infiltrate the National Union. His overzealousness had earned him the label of “spy,” fueling negative public opinion about the police.
“Be on the lookout for any motive, any piece of evidence that can tie Black to the destruction of The Pearl…or any other crime. I don’t care what we get him for as long as we get him,” Davies went on starkly. “Through this, you must keep your true identity hidden. You must eat, breathe, and sleep as Sam Bennett. One false move and you’ll be paying with your life, understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Hesitating, he said, “What should I do if I’m recognized?”
Although he and Black lived in different worlds, overlap was possible. London might be a metropolis, but in certain neighborhoods it felt like Chudleigh Crest, the village of his youth, where one was bound to encounter a familiar face. To Harry’s advantage, he’d lived outside of London for two years, and, before that, in Cambridge. Moreover, working as a navvy had changed his demeanor and appearance, offering him further anonymity.
“Hide, or run,” Davies said succinctly.
An honest, if not reassuring, reply.
Another problem occurred to Harry: his family. The Kents were a close-knit bunch. Since his return to London, his sisters, in particular, had been badgering him to socialize. His eldest sister, Emma, the Duchess of Strathaven, had put it in her usual forthright way:You must hold your head up high, dear brother. No matter what anyone says,youknow the truth, and that is what matters. And you must know you have our full support.
He did know, but he had no intention of letting his family fight his battles for him. And while he knew Em and his other sisters were well-intentioned, he’d also declined their offers to introduce him to “nice young ladies.” Being a private man, he didn’t want them meddling in his affairs.
Now he would need his family to stay away so as not to compromise his first mission.
“I’ll have to talk to my brother—” he began.
“I can fill him in on your assignment. Of all men, Ambrose Kent understands discretion, and I’d wager he can keep the rest of your family, ahem, at bay.”
The inspector’s wry expression suggested that he knew something of Harry’s sisters. The Kent ladies were rather famous (or infamous, depending on who one asked) for their unconventionality and for marrying well in spite of it. Emma had met her duke while trying to solve a murder. Likewise, Harry’s other sisters—Thea, Violet, and Polly—had proved their mettle during adventures that had brought them together with their respective lords.
“Ambrose will know what to do,” Harry said.
Davies nodded. “The mission will bring great risk, but the reward will be commensurate. If you help me bring Black down, I can promise you a raise and a promotion in rank.”
The inspector said no more. Harry knew the other was leaving the door open. It was up to him whether or not he would cross the threshold. The decision wasn’t difficult. Here was his chance to do what was right, and, hopefully, in the process, redeem his good name.
“How will I communicate with you, sir?” he said. “When I have news to report?”
Davies’ eyes lit with triumph. “Good man. We’ll use the mudlarks.”
The “mudlarks” were children of the stews who scavenged to survive. They’d earned their moniker because they were oft found along the banks of the Thames, knee-deep in muck, sifting out anything of value. Due to their ubiquitous presence, the mudlarks were uniquely positioned to be messengers. Their speediness and famed discretion were worth their weight in gold.
“Is there anything else, Kent?” Davies asked. “Do you anticipate any problems carrying out the assignment?”
An image flashed of green-grey eyes and riotous sable curls, a mouth shaped like temptation.
He dismissed it and said firmly, “Nothing I cannot handle, sir.”
6
Bloody hell,I can’t take another day of this.
Or, more precisely, I can—but I might end up throttling Tessa Todd.
These were Harry’s first thoughts upon awakening.
It had been a week since he’d started guarding the recalcitrant miss. A week of pure hell. When she’d claimed he would regret taking on the job as her bodyguard, she hadn’t been jesting.
Groaning, he slung an arm over his eyes. He’d experimented with explosive chemicals. Used incendiary devices to blast tunnels through mountains. How could he have guessed that guarding a mere slip of a female would be the most dangerous job he’d ever had?
She’d run him through the bloody gauntlet. It turned out that Miss Todd was not only clever and devious, both of which he’d gleaned from their first meeting, but she also had the sense of humor of an adolescent boy. He had two young nephews who would undoubtedly snicker at her pranks. Being on her List of Retribution, however, was no laughing matter.
