“’E was in ’is thirties, fine-looking fellow. Medium height, wif golden-brown ’air and light-colored eyes…green, maybe? It was ’ard to tell in this light. Anyway, ’e ’ad a way about ’im…I can’t describe it exactly. But it was like one o’ those mesmeric shows. You know, where the performer puts people in a trance, and they dance and sing at ’is command?”
A shiver crossed Fi’s nape. “Do you know his name?”
“Didn’t catch it. ’E and Lillian were only ’ere together once. They were real lovey-dovey…but I didn’t trust ’im.”
Fi tilted her head. “Why not?”
“’E ’ad a roving eye,” Ruby said flatly. “When Lillian went to use the necessary, ’e chatted wif every female that passed by ’is table.”
She was interrupted by patrons shouting for drinks.
Pivoting, she yelled back, “’Old your bleeding ’orses! I’m wif paying customers.” Turning back to Fi and Livy, she said, “I’d best take your orders and get on.”
“Two ales,” Livy said. “And our thanks for your ’elp.”
“We females ’ave to stick together.” With a nod, Ruby hurried off.
When the barmaid was out of earshot, Fi whispered, “So Lillianwasinvolved with a man. And he sounds like a shady character—”
She cut herself off as a group of men stumbled down from the upper seating area and past the table. She sat up straighter, staring at their backs as they headed for a side door. Two stocky brutes supported a well-dressed man between them. By the way he was being dragged, the man appeared to be three sheets to the wind. Two other rough-looking fellows took up the front and rear of the procession.
The men could be helping a drunken companion get some air. Or they could be planning something nefarious. Which was none of Fiona’s business, except…
“What is it?” Livy asked alertly.
“The man being led to the door.” Pulse racing, Fi craned her neck. “I can’t get a view of his face, but could it be Hawksmoor?”
“Hard to say from behind. But, yes”—Livy’s voice crested in surprise—“itdoeslook like him.”
As the brutes hauled the man outside, Fi could not ignore her intuition.
“If that is Hawksmoor, he’s no match for those ruffians. He’s a stodgy, bookish fellow, for heaven’s sake.” She shot to her feet. “We have to help him.”
Seven
“Easy does it, guv,” a voice said. “We’re almost there.”
Hawk felt himself being dragged along.
“Where are we going?” His voice was slurred, his vision blurry.
“You need some air, guv. You ’ad too much to drink.”
Did I drink too much?Hawk shook his head, trying to clear it.Why can’t I think?
A moment of clarity surfaced between disorienting waves.Themission.
“Play the part of the jaded lord looking for a diversion,”Swinburne had instructed.“Your job is to observe. To collect information about the Sherwood Band.”
Hawk had been listening to the ebb and flow of conversation in the pub. The Sherwood Band had come up more than once…mostly the object of admiration, although a few patrons had voiced their condemnation of the group’s methods. Hawk had taken note of all that he’d heard. Then four men had asked to sit at his table. Porters, they’d claimed to be, and seemed friendly enough. Thinking that the men added to the veracity of his cover, he’d bought them a round. One of the coves had gone to fetch the drinks…
The realization burst through the fog in Hawk’s brain.
Devil take it…I’ve been drugged.
He was hauled through a door and into an alleyway silvered by moonlight. Brick walls seemed to stretch upward and curve over his head. He struggled, the effort making his head spin.
“It’ll go be’er for you if you don’t fight us, guv,” a sneering voice said.
