“Do you smell that? Roasted chestnuts.” Glory sighed. “My favorite.”
“You ate supper just before we came. How you manage to maintain your figure while—oof.” Fi’s reply was cut off when a gangling adolescent bumped into her.
“Pardon, miss. Weren’t watching where I was going on account o’ being distracted by your beauty.” He winked, tipped his cap, and continued along.
Livy caught him by the arm. Remembering to disguise her accent, she demanded, “Give my friend back ’er coin purse.”
“My coin bag?” Fiona searched her reticule, her gaze thinning at the pickpocket. “Why, you thievin’ rotter. Give it back!”
Livy twisted her captive’s wrist.
“Ouch!” he protested. “Bleedin’ ’ell, no need to break a man’s arm o’er a few coins.”
“I’ll break more than your arm if you don’t return my friend’s bluntnow,” Livy stated.
Grumbling, the thief gave the purse back to Fiona.
Livy released him with a shove. “Get on wif you.”
“Feisty filly, ain’t ye?” He grinned cheekily at her. “’Ow would ye like to kick yer ’eels wif me on the dance floor?”
She scowled, and he scampered off.
“Jolly well done,” Glory said admiringly. “Your Cockney accent is improving.”
“Thank you.” Dusting her hands, Livy said, “Shall we?”
They continued on. Livy tried not to be distracted by the spectacle around them, but it was difficult when there were fire-eaters swallowing flames, monkeys dancing jigs, and acrobats performing tricks on horseback. Passing by a throng of drunken masked men, the girls had to dodge groping hands.
Fi swatted the men away like flies. “Now, fellows, I be workin’—”
“I’ll pay your wages, dove.” A cad leered at her. “Why don’t you and I get acquainted in one of the alcoves off the walk?”
“Not tonight, dearie,” Fiona said firmly.
Not ever,Livy thought with a shudder.
The proposition made her think of Hadleigh: he would have an apoplectic fit if he knew what she was up to. Since he had laid out his expectations for marriage yesterday, she’d been torn between yearning and confusion. She knew she wanted him, yet his rules went against the grain of who she was. While she understood his possessiveness—she felt the same way about him—his desire for obedience was an obstacle. She could not give up her independence any more than she could give up the man she loved.
You have until tomorrow night to figure something out,she counseled herself.For now, concentrate on the mission.
They were almost at the banqueting hall, a long building with two levels of supper boxes, arched windows framing the diners enjoying their half-crown supper.
Glory drew to a halt. “Over there, by the wine stall,” she whispered.
Livy shifted her gaze to the bustling stall some fifteen yards away. A queue of guests waited to sample what the stall’s sign boasted was “Cremorne’s World-Famous Sherry.” She saw Longmere immediately. Accompanied by his four cronies, he cut a dashing figure in an oxblood-red jacket. As she watched, an urchin approached the group. If she hadn’t been vigilant, she would have missed the boy slipping something—a piece of paper—to Mr. Thorne before vanishing into the crowd.
Thorne scanned the note, whispering something to his companions.
“I need to improve my lip-reading,” Glory said under her breath. “I cannot tell what he’s saying other than something about afountain.”
“They’re moving,” Fi replied. “We must follow.”
The three wound their way through the crowd, using the sea of people as their cover while they followed the men. They ended up on the arterial walk that traversed the gardens north and south. Stalls selling food and trinkets lined the graveled path, and a glowing fountain splashed up ahead.
Smaller paths branched off from the main route, and as Livy glanced at the openings to those dark veins, a shiver chased over her skin. Cremorne was infamous for its labyrinthine “lovers walks,” used by trysting couples and those seeking paid pleasure.
As they neared the fountain, the throng thinned, and it was harder to tail the targets discreetly. The men paused at the fountain, and Livy pulled her friends behind an unoccupied stall.
