The candles in the chamber revealed much more than the far-off torches had on the night of their first encounter. Studying the man across from him, Jasper didn’t think Little Hook was even old enough to shave. How had such a young man become involved in the world of Madam Dequenne?
A scream, high and feminine, sounded from the staircase. Little Hook lunged for the doorway. Jasper grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back, trying to get an arm around his neck.
Little Hook ducked low. His body twisted, bunched. Jasper flew through the air.
He landed hard. Air rushed from his lungs. Little Hook’s form was a dark blur through the film of pain-induced moisture that welled in Jasper’s eyes. He kicked out as the boy made another dive for the steps.
Little Hook landed with a startled yelp. Jasper rolled. He flung his body atop the boy, pinning him. Jasper shook his head to try to clear the ringing there. The ply of the carpet was thick, but he’d hit the floor hard. The boy thrashed beneath him like a beached salmon.
“Be still,” Jasper growled.
Little hook stopped struggling. Through the shock of capitulation, it took Jasper a moment to realize the tip of a knife dug into his side.
“Get off me or I’ll decorate the room with your blood,” the boy growled.
Jasper blinked. The boy smelled like mildew and smoke and ever so faintly of…honeysuckles. Jasper stared intently at the masked visage, taking in a pair of clear gray eyes.
“I said off,” Little Hook growled.
Pain exploded in Jasper’s side. He rolled off, away from the blade. His hand came up to clutch his side. Hot blood met his palm.
Little Hook sprang to his feet. Knife held before him, blade first now, he backed to the door that led to the street. “This isn’t over between us, Mclintock. You can’t protect her forever.” Little Hook turned and fled.
Jasper stared after him, mind numb. He braced his free hand against the wall and pushed to his feet. Footsteps sounded somewhere below, and women’s voices. Belatedly, Jasper recalled he had a gun. He pulled free his pistol and aimed it at the doorway, one hand still clutching his side.
It couldn’t be. There was absolutely no way…. He’d pressed that slender form to the floor. Felt it writhe under him.
Jasper gave his head another shake, and nearly toppled as a wave of dizziness assailed him. His skull throbbed. Had he just had the stuffing beaten out of him by a girl? Could Madelina be so bold, so brazen, so fierce a fighter? He looked about the room at the unconscious men. They must be Madam Dequenne’s, but what had Little Hook–Madelina–been doing here?
One of his men stuck his head out the staircase door. He spotted Jasper, his expression transforming from worry to relief until his gaze fixed on the hand Jasper clutched to his side.
“We found four young women, sir,” his man said, coming out of the stairwell. He made a gesture and the rest of Jasper’s men came up. “And these two.”
Jasper’s men urged two other men forward at gunpoint. His men gestured their captives to a corner, then stood before them, pistols unwavering, as four young women crept through the staircase door. Two were in tears and two merely pale.
“Where is Little Hook?” one of the girls whose cheeks weren’t streaked with tears asked.
“Little Hook?” Jasper repeated dully. “He escaped.”
“Escaped?” The girl frowned. “I wanted to thank him. He got us out of that cell. I hope he’s not hurt.” Her gaze dropped to Jasper’s side. “Are you quite well, sir? You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.” At least, nothing he had time for. “Little Hook freed you from the cell?” Jasper pressed, his pounding head sluggish. Of course, Madelina had freed them, but how had she found them? How had the sister of a marquess learned to fight the way she did? “Who are those two?” he asked his man.
“They were down in the hall, trying to remove these young women against their will.”
Jasper nodded. “Tie them up, and this lot.” He gestured at the men on the floor. “We’ll call in the watch, but while we wait for them, I have some questions for those two.” He wished more of the men were conscious. Perhaps being bound would wake them.
“Yes, sir,” his man said, then gestured to two companions. “Get rope, and, you, go for the watch.”
Jasper turned back to the woman who’d spoken. “What do you mean, Little Hook freed you? Did he come to the door and let you out?”
All four shook their heads. “They thought Little Hook was a woman when they locked him in our room, but then he took off his dress and he was really a man, and he picked the lock, and said he would save us.”
“They thought he was a woman?” Madelina had permitted them to abduct her? Impossible. No sane woman would do such a thing. “Did he look like a woman?”
The man who’d left returned, arms full of rope, and Jasper’s men began tying up Madam Dequenne’s people. He pressed his hand harder against his side. He needed to stay upright and conscious long enough to question the captives.
The girl shrugged. “They must have thought so, but I didn’t see him. The room they put us in didn’t have any light.”
