Her conscience pricked, especially now that he had been open with her about his past and family. He still thought her a widow and knew barely anything of her past. But how did one go about divulging such things?
The carriage stopped beside them, and Leonard held a hand out to assist her up. Her gloved hand slid across his, and her heart swirled at the contact. There was something oddly intimate in the touch, especially since he didn’t pull his hand away as quickly as he usually did. He let her hand linger, which only made her guilt for deceiving him stronger. Pulling her hand away, she ducked into the carriage and took her seat. It swayed as Mr. Stanton stepped in and joined her.
The ride was dark and quiet. Words clawed at her throat, secrets that begged to be told. Yet she forced them down. She and Stanton had work ahead of them, and this was not the time.
When the ride dragged on, Stanton began to shift in his seat, looking out the window with greater frequency. Their surroundings were changing at a rapid pace, and she was sure he had never before visited this part of London. She, however, knew it well.
When the carriage finally stopped, Mr. Stanton got out and helped her down. He did not have his eyes on her, instead looking about them with narrowed eyes.
“Do not worry.” She patted his shoulder as he closed the door behind her. The carriage quickly jerked into motion, leaving them alone on the dark road.
“Our carriage left,” he said, looking down at her.
“Yes.” She hooked her arm in his, then walked them forward. “We will have to find other means of transportation to get home.”
“I don’t like this,” he said beneath his breath.
Her hand tightened on his arm. “Consider it a cultural experience.”
“You are not nervous at all, are you?” His eyes slipped down to hers as they walked.
She shrugged. “Not really.”
“Why?”
“Because.” They arrived at the door of a pub, which to any onlooker would seem an unsafe place to be—but not for Honora. She opened the door, and Leonard pulled his chin back as he gazed through the window. “I was practically raised here.”
His eyes widened, but she only jerked her head to get him to enter the establishment. Best to give him small bites of her past than to dump it all on him at once. Though, this evening was sure to be jarring for him, and there wasn’t much she could do to prevent it.
She slipped through the door, breathing in deep as she walked into the dim light and foul smell. In a way, it wasalmost nostalgic—the burning in her nose at the pungent scent of alcohol and under-washed bodies. But nostalgia had a connotation that meant she longed for that time again. And she most certainly didn’t.
She could almost see little Honora going from table to table, sneaking a coin or two under the pretense of being a sweet, helpless little girl. But she hadn’t been helpless in the least. And neither had her father, who had been the one to put her to the task. Never one who wanted to work himself, he found other means of finding funds.
“What are we doing here?” Stanton asked, his mouth hardly moving.
Honora glanced about, hoping to see a familiar face or two. “Leg work. We need to find Pratt and get that necklace back. It really shouldn’t be difficult once we locate him. He is quite the coward. With a bit of plying, and perhaps a payment, he will give us what we need.”
Taking further steps into the pub, Stanton lagged just behind, his head swiveling from one side of the room to the other. He was on high alert, and truly, she couldn’t blame him. This was not the most savory of establishments for newcomers.
Men glared at them from behind their cups, their eyes red and bleary with overconsumption of alcohol. Most held an ale in one hand and three cards in the other. Not much had changed over the last ten or fifteen years.
Then, like a beacon of hope, Honora spied a familiar face. “There.” She stopped, putting a hand to Leonard’s arm as he came up from behind. “I know him.”
“Let us get on with it then.” He inched forward. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave.”
Ah, but if only it were that simple. Honora knew the evening that lay before them, and it would not be a quick one. These men needed to be softened up before being willing toexchange information. Even with Honora’s history here, she saw numerous card games in her future, several mugs of ale, and perhaps even a dance or two. But best not burden Leonard with those details. It was for his own good that he did not know.
“Let me do most of the talking,” she warned, her words a whisper. She made for the back corner of the room where Thrup sat, his back to the rear wall. A perfect place to keep an eye on everyone in the room. A wise choice.
Their boots stuck to the ground with every step, the soles of their footwear reluctant to fight the tug of dried ale and crunching bits of food.
“Hello,” Honora said, putting on a smile.
Thrup didn’t even look at them, picking up his cards from the table. “You two lookin’ for trouble?”
“Not exactly,” Honora said, relaxing her stance, hip slightly to the side as she leaned against the table. “I only wish to visit an old friend.”
Thrup looked up at her, his burly, hairy arms laid across the table, cards in hand. His face had pitting on his cheeks, and a permanent red hue to them. “’Scuse me?”
