Before she could turn, his meaty hand closed around her collar, lifting her clear off the ground. She kicked and cursed, straining to reach one of the daggers hidden in her boots when her neck cloth loosened, fluttering to the ground.
“Christ Almighty.” Stunning Joe released her, stumbling back. His gaze was riveted on her throat: on the gold medallion now exposed. “Didn’t know who you were, I swear—”
“Now you do.” Bending, she snatched up the linen. “And you’ll keep your lips buttoned about it. If anyone discovers I was here tonight, I’ll know who to come find.”
“A-aye, anything you—”
The stranger sprinted toward them, his fists readied for another fight.
Tessa subtly lifted her chin at Stunning Joe, and the barkeep backed away, hands raised. She knotted her cravat in place just as the stranger arrived.
“Tom Brown, at your service,” she said breathlessly. “And you are?”
A roar sounded, a recovered Barton knocking aside bodies like pins as he charged toward them. More of O’Toole’s brutes had arrived, the pack following at Barton’s heels.
“Introductions can wait.” The stranger grabbed her arm. “For now—run.”
2
“Through here,”Harry’s companion said. “We’ll lose ’em in the tenement.”
Ducking to avoid a low-hanging beam, Harry Kent followed his guide into the decrepit building. He knew “Tom Brown” was no lad, but his plan was to play along for now. The other had navigated the rookery’s maze with spritely agility, dashing through dark alleyways and twisting streets, pushing through the Saturday night crowds spilling out of taverns and gaming hells. Even now, in this dilapidated warren, Tom seemed to know exactly where he was going.
Harry trailed his companion past rooms overflowing with raggedy folk of all ages. None of the occupants paid any mind to two passing interlopers. Poverty decimated privacy, exposing everything: the shouting, fornicating, and drinking. The squalor and lawlessness reminded Harry of the railway encampment. Of the accident that had nearly ended his life.
Trapped in elemental darkness, he’d felt not just panic but suffocating regret. That he hadn’t made more of himself. That he’d lived and died without making a difference to the world.
His schoolmaster papa’s teachings had come to him.Character is determined by choice not opinion. What is the essence of life? To serve others and do good.
In that moment, Harry had known that he didn’t want his legacy to be defined by scandal and failures. Summoning his strength, he’d fought his way through the darkness, through the wall of rock to the shouting voices and promise of light. In the end, he’d been lucky to escape with only a small scar, and he’d taken it as a sign.
It was time to stop licking his wounds. To stop running from the past. To find his future.
Thus, he’d bid Sam Bennett adieu and returned to London. His older brother Ambrose owned a successful private enquiry business and had offered him a position, but Harry didn’t want to ride on his brother’s coattails. He wanted to strike out on his own, find a job in which he could take pride. One that would make a difference in the world and help him regain his sense of purpose.
Thus, a fortnight ago, he’d signed on as a constable with the Metropolitan Police Force. How better to serve his fellow citizens than by upholding justice? His first case involved murder. A fiery explosive had razed The Gilded Pearl, a popular Covent Garden brothel, killing over a dozen occupants. Acid burned the back of his throat as he recalled the charred bodies he’d viewed his first day at Scotland Yard, the police headquarters.
Death had been delivered by a brutal hand.
Hence, Harry’s present mission. Although he couldn’t save those victims, he could find the culprit, perhaps prevent future carnage. And his gut told him that the figure scampering ahead of him was the key.
A whistle made him look ahead. A blonde exited from a curtained room along the narrow corridor, one that Tom had just passed. As Harry neared, she blocked his path.
“Lookin’ for some sport, luv?” Her coy tone, combined with her scantily clad form and painted face, left no doubt as to her profession.
“No, thank you,” he said shortly. “Let me pass.”
“I like a gent wiv manners,” the prostitute cooed. “Certain you won’t join the fun?” She yanked aside the curtain, revealing a tableau of debauchery.
Harry had seen a lot at the navvy encampment; he’d never witnessed anything quite like this.
Men and women occupied mattresses strewn on the floor. Naked bodies tangled in eyebrow-raising permutations. Couples, trios, and more. Bodies formed an undulating chain, slapping flesh and moans and groans spilling into the hallway.
Heat crept up Harry’s neck as Tom came back to his side. He wondered how the “lad” would react to the depraved scene. Glancing at the carnality, Tom evinced no sign of discomfort and turned to face the whore.
“Cast your ha’penny lures elsewhere.” Scowling, Tom hitched a thumb at Harry. “The cove’s with me.”
“Likethat, is it?” She smirked.
