What the bloody hell business is it of yours?
She'd pulled a pistol on him twice. Propositioned him as many times. All of it, he suspected, had been her way of putting him in his place. And she'd calledhimthe snob! She'd enticed and infuriated him in equal turn. Standing beneath that blasted tree, he'd come to a decision: he must wash his hands of her before she distracted him further. Before she clouded his reason, his judgment. He had his family's troubles to contend with, and he could not waste his energy on selfish desires.
In the end, he'd waited until the light from her bedchamber extinguished. Then he'd made his way back to his room in Cheapside to toss and turn on his lumpy pallet. He hadn't been able to escape the memory of her panting beneath him, her sweet, spicy taste, the way her rosy nipple had puckered for his touch… and not even his conscience could prevent the inevitable conclusion then. Like an unschooled lad, he'd had to frig himself, his seed soaking the sheets whilst green eyes taunted him...
"Thought I'd find you here, Kent."
The hearty voice drew Ambrose from his thoughts. Flushing, he looked up to see Sir Coyner striding down the dock, the links of a pocket fob swaying and glinting in the sunlight. He observed the Bow Street magistrate's jolly expression and felt a sudden lift of hope.
He has good news. By God, let it be a job.
"You were looking for me, Sir Coyner?" he said.
"The magistrate at Wapping Station said you'd be here. Said you'd apprehended a gang of thieving lumpers and returned the goods to the rightful owners."
"With the help of my crew, sir."
"Modest as ever. Well, Kent, I have come to you with an offer."
Pausing, Coyner cast a glance around. The nearest boat was at least a dozen yards away, and with the hustle and bustle of dockside activity, Ambrose was certain no one could overhear their conversation. Nonetheless, sensing the other's hesitation, he said, "Shall I make an appointment at Bow Street, sir?"
"No, this place is better. Sometimes there is more privacy to be had in public than in the most guarded of offices. This is a sensitive case, and I trust I can depend upon your discretion." The magistrate gave him a stern look. "Your career and mine relies upon it."
"Yes, sir."
Coyner scrutinized him. "This isn't an easy assignment, Kent, but the remuneration is significant. Your share, should you accept, would be five hundred pounds."
Ambrose's breath stuttered.Five hundred pounds… a veritablefortune. Enough to save his family from ruin and to see them settled comfortably for the years ahead.
"The case comes with specific conditions set by the client. These conditions are non-negotiable. Any violation will see you off the assignment,"—Coyner's pale blue eyes bored into him—"and I'll personally see to it that you never work for Bow Street or any other force again."
The threat made Ambrose's gut clench. He knew Coyner had the power to back those words. The risk was enormous… yet the reward even greater. Here, finally, was a way to give his family what they so desperately deserved. Security. A future.
"What are the conditions?" Ambrose said. "Can you tell me who the client is?"
Coyner shook his head. "Even I do not know the identity of our employer. All communications have been directed through his solicitor. In fact, the client specifically asked for a contract investigator—one with no ties to other Runners or the Bow Street office. Only you and I know about this case, Kent."
"Why the need for secrecy?"
"Fear of scandal, most likely. From what I know, the client is a member of the House of Lords. The threat is one involving national security."
The hairs rose upon Ambrose's neck. "Sir?"
"Anarchists, Kent," Coyner said grimly. "I always knew we hadn't heard the last of them. Like poisonous weeds, they're not easily eradicated; they remain dormant, waiting for the moment to take seed and pollute our good English soil. I can say no more without compromising the case; you now have sufficient information to make your decision. Will you accept this mission?"
A chance to save his family and defend his country. He couldn't ask for a more honorable, worthwhile endeavor—and surely he would regain his focus then. Surely this would put all the nonsense with Lady Draven out of his mind and behind him. In truth, his prayers had been answered.
"Count me in," Ambrose said without hesitation.
The men shook hands, sealing the bargain.
"I'll need you on full-time, and I'll work that out with your magistrate at Wapping Station. He owes me a favor," Coyner said. "When this is over, you'll return to your position with none the wiser."
Ambrose hoped Coyner had the leverage to ensure Dalrymple's cooperation.
"What are my specific tasks, sir?" he asked.
"The client provided the name of a suspected anarchist. Your job is to monitor said suspect and provide reports on all her movements."
