Had anyone ever trusted him so completely?
And secretly? He didn’t mind having her with him on this trip to confront Ross and learn Hardesty’s secrets. He was learning that often her thinking was clearer than his.
He put his other arm around her as well and pressed a kiss on the top of her velvet cap.
“I can’t believe I cut it,” Willa confessed.
“I can believe you will do anything,” he answered. His response pleased her and she settled back in his arms.
They must have dozed, waking when the hack slowed to a stop.
Willa peered out the window. “I don’t know where we are.”
“Close to the docks,” he answered. He climbed past her to open the door. Toomey Street was relatively normal at this time of the day. At the end of the road, the street was busy with merchants and sailors, the usual bustle going on. The fusty smell of wet rope blended with that of rotting fish and cooking foods. And underlying all was the Thames—which had its own unique smell.
He had no doubt that the Blue Boar was open. Whorehouses, especially in this area, rarely closed.
Matt paid the driver and helped Willa out. She looked around. “I don’t find this threatening.”
He didn’t comment but put his arm around her waist, the way men and women commonly walked around this area.
They hadn’t gone far before Willa whispered, “I rather like this. Are you treating me like a doxy?” He almost fell over his feet at the use of the word. Of course, she noticed and she laughed, the musical sound lighthearted.
“You are having too much fun with this,” Matt accused.
“It is nice to go wherever I wish,” she admitted, “provided I have a strong man beside me.”
He liked the description.
But in the next breath, she asked, “Do you have an inkling where the Blue Boar is?”
“A bit,” Matt answered. He nodded to a faded sign. One of the hinges was broken and all the metal was rusted with age and London’s bad air. Time had weathered the blue boar’s head, but the tusks could still be seen easily.
“Oh, dear,” Willa said.
He opened the door. She drew a deep breath and marched through it.
The ground floor was blocked off and there were no stairs up. Instead, customers had to go downstairs to the tavern and a doorway that could be easily controlled. “Stay behind me,” Matt ordered. He went down and opened a heavy door into a large tavern room that at night was packed with cardplayers and drinkers. There were several taps, and tables and chairs from one wall to the next.
This morning, the place appeared almost deserted. The air smelled of stale ale, old gin, and the odors of unwashed men. A group sat hunched over drinks and their cards. They appeared exhausted and gave Matt only a passing glance as he entered the room—until they saw Willa.
Then all heads turned. She was wise enough to wrap her arms around him. He was beginning to like her “doxy” role.
He walked up to the barman, a burly man with a grizzled growth of hair on his face and a belly as big as a sow’s. Off to the side was a thin, yellow-haired woman. She had a hard face with a sharp nose. Her features weren’t unattractive until one noticed the apron around her waist was filthy. She gave Matt a hard look over when he approached and then licked her lips.
Matt wasn’t interested in an invitation. He set a coin in front of the man. “I’m looking for an Irishman named Ross.”
“I’m not one for knowing Irishmen,” the barman answered, his own brogue quite pronounced. He didn’t make a move toward the coin.
However, the woman snatched it up. “I might be.” She looked around the room and shrugged as if there wasn’t anyone she feared present. “How do you know this Ross?”
“He has a horse for sale.”
She nodded as if he’d confirmed a piece of information. “He can’t pay what he owes me until he sells that damn nag.”
“Where is he?”
She grinned. Her teeth were crooked and brown, and he knew what she waited for. He put another coin out. She answered, “He is upstairs with the other man who was asking after him.”
