Lady Glory directed her gaze upward toward her curly brown wig. While her disguise was first-rate, Wei thought that her eyes gave her away. They were the color of jade illuminated by sunlight; if one looked closely enough, one could see specks of bronze embedded in the irises. Wide, tip-tilted in shape, and fringed by lush sable lashes, her eyes brimmed with a mix of intelligence and innocence. Her gaze was that of a female who saw what was wrong with the world and believed she could single-handedly fix it.
Her naïveté underscored her youthfulness. The dozen or so years that separated her and Wei in age might have been a hundred when it came to life experience. He couldn’t recall ever being that idealistic, that unspoiled by the darkness of life. Perhaps that was why she pulled at his protective instincts.
“I do not require a guardian of any sort,” she retorted. “As this is a Society of Angels mission and I am the sole Angel present, I shall be in charge. You, sir, are second-in-command.”
She was naïve and a little tigress. A dangerous combination. Not for the first time, Wei wondered about her parents. English aristocrats usually prized modesty, sophistication, and propriety in their female offspring…traits that were conspicuously absent in Lady Glory. Not that he was complaining. He much preferred her honesty, loyalty, and caring heart.
He inclined his head. “I am happy to serve, my lady.”
“Jolly good.” Even the fake mustache could not hide her jubilant smile. “Now that we have an understanding, Master Chen, I think we shall rub along well. Indeed, I have long admired your kung fu and would love to learn some techniques.”
During a supper party at the Hadleighs’, Lady Glory had asked him countless questions about his martial arts training, her expression as inquisitive as that of the ferret who’d been perched upon her shoulder. At present, the animal was in a small cage on the seat beside her, his back turned to them. Glory had claimed that FF II was giving her the “cold shoulder” because she wasn’t taking him into Bottom’s.
“Proper training takes time,” Wei replied. “Years of cultivation.”
“I haven’t got years. Just tonight.” She furrowed her brow. “Won’t you give me a tip or two?”
He kept his expression bland. “Patience is power. With time and patience, the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown.”
She wrinkled her nose. Although she’d covered her features with a layer of face paint, he knew that her pert little appendage was sprinkled with golden freckles. He liked her freckles and her unaffected nature in general. In the stifling, smoke-choked world of London, Lady Glory was a blast of fresh air.
“But I don’t want a silk gown,” she protested. “I wish to have lessons in martial arts.”
He gave into the rare urge to tease. “Lessons come from unexpected places.”
“Ugh. All right, you win. No pointers this eve.” She gave a huff that was, for lack of a better word, cute. “Then we’d best focus on our strategy.”
Rummaging through a satchel, she pulled out a pair of tickets, handing him one. The voucher was made of silver-plated tin and engraved with a symbol that resembled a curvy “W.” Below the symbol was the phrase, “Bottom’s Up.”
“This is our way in. If anyone asks, I am Adam Smith, newly minted baronet.” She gave him an expectant look. “And you will be…”
“John Wong,” he decided. “Former sailor. Currently in the import-export business.”
“An excellent cover.” Her nod was approving. “Now the suspect we are looking for is a burly, brown-haired fellow. He has the mien of a prizefighter with a nose that looks like it has been broken, barrel chest, and limp favoring the right side. When Livy and I followed him here previously, the guards at the door greeted him by name as Farwell so we believe that he is a regular patron at Bottom’s.”
“What is the plan if we see this Farwell fellow?”
She beamed, clearly delighted to be asked. “We will monitor him and try to get information on the whereabouts of Sir Barkley. As Farwell is merely the go-between for the dognappers, his knowledge of their operation may be limited. We cannot afford to tip him off to our investigation, or Sir Barkley’s life will be at risk.”
“Then the goal is surveillance.” Wei preferred a hands-off approach, as it provided less opportunity for Lady Glory to get into trouble. “Observation only.”
“Generally speaking, yes.”
He didn’t trust the zealous gleam in her eyes.
“But if the opportunity arises for us to get close to Farwell, we should take it,” she said decisively. “Get into his good graces and loosen his tongue with flattery and drink. You know how males like to talk about themselves.”
He lifted his brows. “Do I?”
“I am not referring to you specifically.” She gave an airy wave. “You happen to be the exception to the rule. Trust me, after three Seasons, I’ve become an expert on male behavior.”
That she believed her words was a testament to her innocence.
“Surveillance is a sound strategy,” he said. “Being unfamiliar with Bottom’s, we are at a disadvantage. When thrown into a lion’s den, it is wise not to draw attention to oneself.”
“Adaptability is the key to survival.” With a jaunty grin, the indomitable miss jammed a hat onto her curly wig and reached for the door handle. “Let us play it by ear, shall we?”
Before Wei could respond, she opened the door and hopped down. She made a beeline for the den of iniquity, every movement of her slender frame imbued with boundless energy. Amused and resigned, he alighted and went after her.
