Scarlet shoved a finger in her face, the nail worn and chipped from helping in the back kitchen peeling potatoes day after day. “Don’t go encouraging her. She’s too wild as it is. Why Pops lets her run with the men is beyond me.”
Camille smiled at the sisterly affection. “Syd will be leader of the gang in the next year.”
“She’s sixteen!”
She shrugged. Camille had a rare soft spot for Scarlet’s little sister. Upon her father’s return to London, Syd had made it her mission to learn everything she could about self-defense. Fourteen at the time, the ‘Merry Men’ expanding into protecting local businesses had been her idea. Two years later, everyone looked to Markus Laundry for leadership, but anyone close to the family knew Syd called the day to day. The mind of a businesswoman, and the heart of a bruiser who didn’t yet weigh eight stones.
“Escorting me has to be safer than what Pops has her running,” she said.
Scarlet gave her, and her wrapped wrist, a dubious look.
Camille pushed. “We both know Syd could take Hawkins.”
“Easily,” Scarlet said with no small amount of pride, her hard expression softening as her gaze slipped back to Camille’s injuries. “Fine. I’ll ask.”
“Thank you.” Camille checked the clock. It was early for her shift, but it wouldn’t hurt to get to the club before the morning rush. She had stacks of files to work through and convert to memory, and a proposition to finish.
She stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Scar.”
Her friend waved her off, then shouted when Camille was at the door. “Hey, Cam, I forgot. There was a bloke in here earlier asking after you.”
Camille’s heart leapt before she strapped it down. “Fair-haired? Light eyes?”
Recognition lit Scarlet’s eyes. “Something you need to tell me, Cam?”
Damn.“No.” Camille offered a pasted-on smile. “The man?”
Scarlet smiled knowingly but mercifully dropped her inquiry. “Dark hair. Blue eyes.”
Camille frowned, unfathomably disappointed. Who had she expected?
“A sailor?” She’d kept a close relationship with the captains who frequented the harbor, a natural carry over from her time rubbing elbows with the merchants as a child.
“Nah. He wasn’t dressed for the sea,” Scarlet said. “But he was a gentleman, I’ve no doubt.”
Description and opinion aligned, and Camille gritted her teeth. Only one man would come looking for her here. “Hamish.”
The damn duke didn’t know when to quit. First the Prodding Pony and now the Cock ’n Hen. Apparently, a shoe to the head wasn’t enough to get through his thick skull. It was only a matter of time before her half-brother found the flat where she and her mother lived. If he showed up while she was away—looking so much like their father with the same dark hair and piercing eyes—and her mother answered the door... Camille made a mental note to sendanotherscathing letter, telling the man to keep his nose out of her business, or lose it. Like she didn’t have enough to worry about.
She turned on her heel and went to the door, calling over her shoulder to Scarlet, “If he shows up again, do me a favor and shoot him.”
Chapter Seven
“You’re early,” MadamClarice said.
Camille shut the door to her boss’s office and slid the bolt over before moving to the hidden panel in the wall, the entrance to therealoffice where every ledger and client file was stored.
“Camille.”
She didn’t turn around. She suddenly became interested in the elaborate moulding of vines and leaves carved into the walls’ center lines. “Yes, Madam?”
Papers rustled, then, “Where did you get those?”
Camille shut her eyes. She wouldn’t insult the other woman by playing dumb. She’d forgone the cloth sling the engineer had given her for her shoulder, but her bound wrist and bruised temple weren’t as easily hidden.
“I ran into some trouble on my way home last night.”
“Who were you running from?”
