The last customer had left, and moonlight drifted through the small cracks above the drawn curtains of the closed shop as Hannah finished one job and mentally prepared for the next. Thankfully Ned had come by not merely to collect his take of her profits—but with an offer of an actual assignment. Just when she needed it.
“Going out tonight?” Tamar asked from her perch on the end of the front counter, her broom abandoned against the wall.
“Hopefully. Ned’s late with the details, though.” Hannah brushed past her sister, bending down to rummage through the lower shelves, reshelving unsold legitimate and quasi-legitimate wares from the afternoon. As she’d told Sol—who she’d not thought of at all since the kiss two days past—no one browsed in their shop—or more, no one was permitted to. If not, they’d have been shut down and carted off long ago.
“It seems like you’re getting a great deal more excitement in here. At least this week.” Her sister swung her booted feet back and forth, creating an irregular pounding rhythm on the wood right next to Hannah’s ear.
“I don’t run information for excitement; I do it formoney. Money that we need in order to give you a good life.” She yanked the most sellable and popular merchandise—watches, paste jewelry, small trinkets that could be given as gifts or bribes, depending on one’s point of view—to the front so she could easily grab them when requested. “And as for the ‘excitement’ you’ve been noodging me about, that will most certainly not be happening again.”
“Why?” A smirk settled on Tamar’s face. “You both certainly seemed to enjoy it.”
Too much. Though wasn’t that always the way? Solomon Weiss was… well, he did not belong in her world and she certainly had no place in his.
Hannah rubbed her wrist, pushing back older memories of how she’d once longed for such a thing—what she was now attempting to give Tamar. And how hard she’d tried and failed to transform herself into the sort of woman who could grasp it. However, frustration and desperation not only had led to risks she should’ve known better than to take but had caused her to carelessly lash out and wound the pride of those whose power she misjudged.
“It was fine.” She rose and brushed off her apron. “All right, more than fine, but that’s beside the point.”
“What is the point?” Her sister cocked her head but did not move from her position, even as Hannah reached for the rag and wiped down the chipped black wood around her.
“The point is that Solomon Weiss is of no use to either of us,” Hannah said as she scrubbed. “He doesn’t meet our criteria for your husband, he’s certainly not sniffing around to be a customer or supplier, and he doesn’t have the sense or the access to information that would help me in my other endeavors. Without any ofthat, earth-shattering kisses or not, he’s nothing but clutter in our world and needs to stay away.”
“‘Earth-shattering’?” Tamar’s voice rose nearly an octave.
“It’s a turn of phrase, not a literal fact.” Hannah folded the rag before lugging it and the bucket into the back room, even as something odd in her gut twisted. Probably from eating too quickly that morning or not enough on her break—something that was indeed the man in question’s fault.
“It’s too bad he doesn’t meet our criteria. He’s handsome. Very handsome,” her sister called. “And probably knows how to read.”
“If you want to amend what we’ve discussed, be my guest and I can chase him down,” Hannah returned, keeping her tone light.
After all, what would it matter if Tamar really was interested in the man? If he made her sister happy, good for her. She deserved happiness. And while he wasn’t exactly what they’d wanted for Tamar—he was on the edge of the community instead of its center—that certainly could change with the right maneuvering. Besides, he seemed nice enough and would probably be good to her and was definitely the marrying kind so—
“I don’t think I’m what he’s seeking,” Tamar said, hopping to the floor, the heels of her boots thumping against the creaking floorboards.
“Nonsense. You’re what everyone seeks. The dowry is just going to help the right people notice it,” Hannah said, giving her sister a kiss on the cheek, forcing her mind away from the dratted kiss.
Which rationally couldn’t have truly been that wonderful. It was just that she hadn’t felt that sort of desire,that sort of passion, that sort of want since… well, she didn’t know since when, but it didn’t matter because no good could come of it. With a huff, Hannah hid a pair of candlesticks of dubious origin behind a line of books.
Oy. Not good. Not good at all. She was not going back to Duke’s Place anytime soon; that was for sure. She’d highlight the best choices from the information she’d gathered or even suggest Weiss again for good measure. Which would prove she truly didn’t care. Not. At. All.
She stomped out the door to sweep the stoop. After she was done and good and sweaty despite the night chill, Hannah went around to the alley in the back and near jumped out of her skin at the man waiting, leaning against the cracked plaster outer wall of the tannery next door.
“You startled me,” she said as Ned emerged from the shadows, skirting the stream of foul waste liquid that drizzled down the center of the small passageway.
“One would think you’d be more aware.” He straightened his warm coat and pushed off the wall against which he was leaning. He sauntered over to her with his usual arrogant air, before fingering the front of her cloak. “Been a while, Hannah. Had some other business to attend, but I’m glad to be back in communication with one of my favorite helpers.”
Normally, she’d have pretended to enjoy his overtures and pressed herself against him, but for some reason she could not quite manufacture interest that night. At least not for him. No matter how useful it was for her pocketbook and how almost certainly it was going to be a requirement for her assignment.
Tired, she must be tired. It had been a long day. Hannah stepped back from Ned’s body and rubbed her aching back. “Who am I to find?”
“A man,” he said, twisting from side to side. The stink of cheap gin wafted in her direction, strong and full. Bollocks. While Ned was amiable enough on most nights, made more pleasant with a touch of the drink, when he was fershnikit, he could be… well, not so pleasant. She should’ve brought a knife.
Not that she could inflict serious harm with it, he was far too skilled to best, even foxed. But she could keep him off balance. Ah, well, she’d just need to proceed with care.
She dug her ankles into the ground. “There are thousands of men in London, and if we want to be paid, I need a bit more information.”
He rubbed his hands together, moving toward her anew. “You do like money, don’t you, Hannah?” He leaned forward, his hot breath right against her cheek.
The blood in her veins began to pound as he ran a hand down her cheek.
