Aunt Aubrey nodded. “Seeing how you’ve nothing better to do.”
That’s all her aunt had been waiting for? Madelina would have declined the invitation to the ball. She tried to keep excitement from her voice. “And what will I be doing?”
“Don’t ask questions to which you know the answer, girl.” The tip of her aunt’s cane struck the floor with a thud.
Madelina nodded, eagerness in no way dimmed by her aunt’s prickly nature. “I am to find Lord Lefthook and observe him, to learn his ways and how I might begin to aid him, to gain his acceptance and trust.
“That’s better.”
Madelina grinned, exalted. Tonight, finally, she would claim her place beside London’s vaunted vigilante, Lord Lefthook.
Almost two years ago, when news came of her father’s death, she’d wanted to give up her training, her personal goal of ending his life stolen from her. She’d told her aunt as much, not anticipating Aunt Aubrey’s disapproval. Impatient with Madelina’s despondency, Aunt Aubrey had said, “London is so rife with suffering, what your father did is the least of it,” and then Aunt Aubrey had informed Madelina that she must use her skills to help those who could not save themselves and had handed her a London paper, page folded back to the deeds of Lord Lefthook.
“So, where do I begin?” Madelina asked, wanting to bounce up onto her toes but sure that if she did, her aunt would decide her too eager to be permitted to go.
“Where do you think, girl?”
Madelina tried to concentrate through her excitement. “I know nothing of London other than what you have told me.” Was deciding where to find Lord Lefthook another of her aunt’s endless tests?
Aunt Aubrey’s gaze narrowed. “Know nothing of London, do you? Do you not know where the greatest hardships are to be found? Where Lord Lefthook haunts? You stare at the paper long enough each morning, girl. I assume it’s because you can read.”
Madelina’s mind returned to the newspaper, always full of tales of Lord Lefthook. From those reports, she knew what streets he roamed, who he helped. “Practically every day, reports are published of those he’s aided, almost always from the same borough. I’ll go there and find him.”
“Then what will you do, girl, introduce yourself?” Aunt Aubrey raised her voice to squeaky tones that in no way resembled Madelina’s, “Oh, Mister Lefthook, I know I’m a slip of a young miss, but I know how to fight. Take me with you on your nightly rounds.” Another thump of her cane.
Madelina pulled a face. She rarely enjoyed her aunt’s scathing idea of humor. “I suppose I’ll need to follow him. I’ll need a costume. To pretend to be a man.” She let out a sigh, annoyed with the inequities of society.
“Boy,” Aunt Aubrey corrected.
“I’m too tall to be a boy.”
“A young man, then. For all you don’t screech like most girls, you’ll never manage too deep a voice.”
“Fine,” Madelina agreed. “A young man.” She flopped down on the edge of the bed, dejected.
“What are you sitting around for, girl?” Aunt Aubrey demanded with a third thump of her cane.
Three raps meant shaky ground, but too much dejection filled Madelina for her to care. She’d thought her aunt had been about to send her out, alone, into the London night. Now, “I suppose I must spend days sewing.” Or could she buy men’s breeches and a shirt?
“Nonsense.” Aunt Aubrey pointed at Madelina with her cane. “There’s a locked chest under your bed.”
Surprise and elation shot through her as Madelina dropped to the floor, heedless of her gown. True to her aunt’s declaration, a large, flat chest rested beneath the bed where she’d never seen one before, positioned beside her own locked case. Madelina pulled it out.
She turned back to her aunt just in time to catch the key, before it hit the side of her head. Madelina applied the key to the latch, though she could have picked the lock. She’d half expected the lock to be another test.
Inside the chest were black breeches and tall black boots. A black shirt and binding for her chest rested on top, not that the billowy shirt wouldn’t cover most of her meager assets. A black belt with sheaths rested within, as well, and a scarf for her face, with another for her hair, along with a cap.
“Your pistols and knives are cleaned and ready?” Aunt Aubrey asked.
Madelina answered with a derisive sniff. She crawled back under the bed to pull out the other box, in which she kept her weaponry.
In short order, she dropped her gown in a sparkling puddle on the floor and donned her men’s garb. She checked and sheathed her weapons, excitement threatening to make her hands shake. Ready at last, she turned to face her aunt.
Gray eyes studied Madelina for an uncomfortable length of time. “You’ll do,” Aunt Aubrey finally allowed. Her gaze settled on one of the pistols. “Insidious things. Don’t know why you prefer them.”
The ball lodged in her aunt’s hip had fired from a pistol, though Madelina knew little more detail than that. “I know, you prefer a rifle.” Madelina recited, “‘Stalk, plan, and engage. A good sharpshooter is more effective than ten men with pistols, and in less danger.’”
“And don’t you forget it, girl.”
