“Are anarchists after Tony? Is he in danger from them…and from you?”
Her whispered words made him jerk as if she’d shouted.
Bloody hell, she has put more than a few pieces together. She has damned near finished the puzzle.
“Is that why you’re visiting the seaside, sir?” Her voice back at its normal volume, she prattled on like a friendly barmaid. “’Oping to catch a few fish?”
He cleared his throat. And his head.
“I was told Hastings has prime fishing grounds,” he said. “I am not interested in the little fish. It’s the big ones that I’m after.”
He wanted to reassure her that he meant Tony Quinton no harm.
From Lottie’s considering look, she received his message. “For a price, I will personally show you where to find the largest ones.”
He couldn’t resist.
“I thought that was my line, dove,” he drawled.
She tried to hide her smile and failed. “Now my assistance will cost you double.”
“I’d better stop while I’m ahead. What’s the price for your wisdom, sweeting?”
“Five quid.”
Christ, the woman was raking it in this eve. Yet he found himself intrigued by his wife’s offer. Having seen her in action several times now, he was realizing that she was a bloody fine investigator. Although his first instinct would always be to protect her, to shield her from the darkness of the world, he had to admit that she was no delicate flower.
And if what she intimated was true, she knew where Tony Quinton might be hiding. Lives depended upon Jack getting this information. Coming to a decision, he slid the money across the table; when she reached for it, he nabbed her hand, pulling her toward him. To anyone watching, it would appear to be a flirtatious move—and it was—but he also had a message to deliver.
“Get rid of the other two,” he said under his breath. “It’s too dangerous. Tell them I’ll look after Tony.”
Her subtle nod conveyed her understanding. She pulled her hand free.
“I’m off in an hour,” she said. “We’ll discuss plans then.”
She sallied forth with her tray. Jack took a sip from the tankard. The beer tasted worse than piss, but the view of Lottie’s swaying bottom and the prospect of finding Tony Quinton more than made up for it.
“How much farther?” Jack asked in a low tone.
“We are almost there.” Lottie’s reply was equally hushed. “Do try to keep up.”
She looked down her nose at him—which wasn’t difficult because she was leading the way and on a higher part of the ledge. They were ascending cliffs along the shore; they hadn’t lit their lanterns for fear of being spotted by Tony Quinton or the people after him. The full moon illuminated the beach and rippling waves a dizzying distance away. A decent climber himself, Jack was impressed by his spouse’s agility. She reminded him of the Alpine ibex he’d seen in Italy, gracefully leaping from rock to rock, up the mountain face.
As he didn’t think his wife would like to be compared to a goat, no matter how graceful, he refrained from sharing his thoughts. He had to brush up on flirting. Not that he’d ever been good at it. Recalling her reaction to being likened to a time ball, he stifled a grin. Anyway, if he were to pay her a compliment, her nimbleness wouldn’t be at the top of his mind. Not with his current view. Lord help him, but she was tempting from the rear.
She’d changed out of her disguise. Beneath her cleverly detachable skirts, she’d had on the present dark breeches, and the way they hugged her narrow waist and heart-shaped derriere ought to be a sin. She’d buttoned a slim, dark waistcoat over her barmaid’s blouse and woven her hair into an efficient braid.
She looked like a young Athena, gorgeous and bold, and he flashed back to their first meeting when she’d valiantly defended herself against a trio of brutes whilst escaping her lecherous guardian through her cunning. Her courage and spirit would always lead her to choose peril over passivity. She was a goddess who would not go down without a fight. Jack wanted to shield her, possess her, and worship her at the same time.
On the carriage ride over, she’d demanded to know what he wanted with Tony. Given that the horse had long bolted the barn, he told her about the meeting in Calais. How he believed that Tony wanted to do the right thing and help stop the anarchists. Then he asked her some questions of his own.
“How did you convince Loveday and Quinton to stay behind?”he’d inquired.
“I told them Tony was mixed up in dangerous business, and if they wanted to see him alive, they would leave finding him to the professionals.”She shrugged.“Gilbert knows my work and therefore trusts my judgement.”
Jack had also asked how she had managed to stay one step ahead of him.
“One of my associates followed Quinton and heard him buying tickets for Hastings and inquiring about Simon Legg. I headed to Hastings before his arrival to investigate Legg. As Legg happened to need a barmaid, I made myself a suitable candidate for the position.”
