“I beg your pardon,” she said again, craning around. The person’s face was obscured by a flowing velvet hood. Helena saw only the tip of a nose. She stepped closer, trying to make out a face, but the figure hurried away, disappearing into the crowd.
She looked back to Shaw. He was bowing with exaggerated humility as the gentleman glared and shook his wrist.
Shaw ignored the outrage, tipped his hat, and backed away. The gentleman spun and strode in the opposite direction, grumbling some indecipherable complaint.
Shaw stepped to her. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m perfectly well,” she said, gaping at him. He’d moved like an acrobat and fought like a fencing master. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen.
“If you’re certain,” he said, “let’s walk.”
Helena walked. “Shaw? How did you manage that?”
Shaw was silent. He adjusted his hat.
“Declan?” she asked again.
“What?”
“Tell me what you’ve just—”
“My lady,” he warned, “you are meant to be looking—”
“I’m perfectly capable of walking and talkingandlooking. If I simply stride down the street, gaping at everyone, I’ll look mad.”
“This endeavor is mad,” he mumbled.
She whirled on him. “This was your idea and, foolish me, I believed it to be rather inspired. But now, I cannot say. I’d like some credentials. Immediately. In fact, I can’t believe I’ve allowed the Great Secret of your identity to languish between us for so long. I’ll not take another step until you tell me how a lowly stable groom understands the fine points of sabotage. And stalking young women. And disarming crazed gentlemen in the street.”
“Now?” he whispered harshly, moving her from the flow of pedestrians.
“Yes,” she said.“Right now.”
He looked right and left. He took a deep breath. “Fine. If you must know. My true profession is... is as a mercenary.”
Helena laughed a little. He was making a joke. He was—
His face remained passive. He cocked an eyebrow.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I work,” he said, “as a mercenary. Do you know what that is?”
“Ah...”
“It’s a soldier-for-hire,” he said. “A bodyguard.Paid security. I track people and things. I’m called ‘The Huntsman’ in professional circles because I specialize in finding people who do not wish to be found. Not unlike Lady Genevieve Bloody Vance, for all the good it’s doing us.”
Helena stopped and gaped at him. She could not be more shocked if he’d admitted he was King George.
“A mercenary?” she repeated.
“Yes.” He began to walk again.
“How did you... fall into this line of work?”
“I studied it in university.”
“Hilarious.”
