With that, he turned his back to her, so she quickly donned the shroud and the shoes. Once she was finished, she announced, “I’m done. Now what?”
He headed for the door. After he opened it, he said, “Follow me.”
* * *
Drake wantedto tell her that this was nothing more than a test to see how far he could push her to do his bidding but the truth was he did have something that needed taken care of this night. He generally preferred to work alone but considering Miss Davies was skillful with a sword and it wouldn’t be amiss if he had someone to watch his back with this particular gang, then her presence was rather perfectly timed.
He'd first heard about the issues arising that afternoon. One of his contacts had sent him an encrypted message that told him of the turmoil that was about to take place at an illicit boxing match. Amos Jones had requested his help and Drake had been more than willing to provide it. There weren’t many people who Drake owed any sort of loyalty—except one man. Amos had saved him when he’d been left for dead. Because of that, he had always been available when Amos had called on him. He doubted that Jones was his true last name but one he’d adopted over the years just as Drake had done.
They had met in the workhouse, both young men who were angry at the world and set on turning it upside down. They had certainly done that, amassing their fortunes from those that didn’t deserve to live above ground and finding a way to steal their inheritances that hadn’t truly been earned but wasted. Truly, Drake had considered it an honor to relieve such men of the burden of coin and they generally took care of the downward spiral on their own.
He'd never killed for sport, only when necessary, when his own life was in jeopardy. Some of the more notable gentlemen weren’t so understanding when it came to being destitute. With Amos’s assistance, they had found a way to cover up their good misdeeds.
However, Drake had vowed that he was done with the conspiracy and intrigue. He had enough money that he didn’t have to take any job that didn’t interest him. He could be more selective in his clients.
And where he spent his vast wealth.
Drake glanced at the shrouded figure beside him. He had asked her to wear the covering, not just for his protection, but for her own. London was riddled with gangs and men willing to slit Drake’s throat for little more than a shilling. It was true he had Amos and other men he could depend on if needed but not everyone in the West End was a friend. It was best that her beauty was concealed. Some would be more than happy to relieve Drake of his newfound courtesan.
And they wouldn’t be as considerate of their prize.
Drake was glad that Fleur remained silent as he led them on foot a few blocks, down alleys where human and animal vermin alike were just starting to come to life for the night. He could hear her slight breathing beside him and he wondered if she was shocked at the gruesome sights around them, or horrified by the living conditions of so many. Men were relieving themselves against the brick and limestone buildings while harlots wearing loose fitting garments were luring their prey into darker alleyways where they would decide if the coupling was worth it, or if they should just slit their partner’s throat right then and there. Children were not spared this life. Some wore shoes, others were barefoot, but innocent they were not. Pickpockets ran rampant through the streets.
Drake should have spared her the unpleasant scene around them but not only was time of the essence, there was no use coddling her from a life he was well suited. If they were to be together for an undetermined length of time, it was best she knew what sort of man she had unwittingly tied herself to in that gentleman’s club. He was a realist. He wasn’t the sort to offer flowery prose or long-stemmed roses.
This was his life. This is what he had called home for so many years.
She didn’t say a word.
But he knew she would. It was inevitable.
When they reached the establishment Amos had directed him to in the message, he finally stopped and turned to her. “Stay by me and don’t say or do anything without my signal.”
“What is that?”
He set his mouth in a tight line. “You will know it.”
She gave an obedient nod beneath the shroud and he walked toward the entrance. Before he was let inside, a man stopped him with a hand on his chest. “An’ jus’ where do ye think ye’re goin’?”
* * *
Fleur’s heartwas beating so loud that she was surprised no one heard it. Her pulse was a steady beat in her ears and she feared that instead of her virtue this evening, she would be losing her life or, at the very least, a limb.
She had never been much for prayer but she sent one up now, just in case.
As her new benefactor faced off with the man at the door, it amazed her how calm and composed he could be while she was trying to keep from shaking in her boots. She would be thankful when they could leave this place and she hadn’t yet stepped a foot inside.
“I have an appointment,” Mr. Porter said in a velvety, even tone. Fleur had to admit that he had a voice that was both seductive and menacing. It was strange, and yet, inviting at the same time.
“Do ye now?” The man laughed and Fleur didn’t miss the bulging muscles around his upper arms and neck. Nor the jagged scar that ran down the side of his face that he set even closer to his opponent. “I’m afraid it’s gonna cost ye.”
“I’m running a bit short this evening.”
The man laughed richly and then his gaze flicked to her and he straightened slightly. “Who’s tha’ ye got wit’ ye?”
“No one of consequence. As to that payment—” The second it took for the man’s attention to slide to her, Mr. Porter had slid a dagger from inside his boot and held it against the man’s throat. Fleur thought for sure that the man could have overpowered Mr. Porter since he almost doubled him in size but the stark terror in his gaze expressed his surprise. “We’re going in now.” He released the man with a gentle slide of the blade down the scar on the side of his face. It was enough to draw a slight trickle of blood but no further harm than that. “You have a good night.”
The man collapsed against the side of the building, his eyes bulged out and his face a pasty white.
