Page 80 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

But his body tightened at the prospect of Amalie between his legs as he taught her how to pleasure him with her mouth. Ellerbie lifted his ale for a drink when he suddenly slammed it onto the bar to wave at someone who’d just entered the pub.

“Simmons, over here. Come meet a friend of mine.”

Valeran slowly turned his head to see a tall, lanky shadow moving toward them. The man didn’t walk so much as he glided. It was as if he were a snake slithering his way toward them. Taking another swig of the ale Ellerbie had paid for, Valeran worked hard to appear as though he could care less about the man approaching him and Ellerbie.

“Trotter, this is me old chum, Freddie Simmons.”

“A pleasure, Trotter.”

“Simmons,” he murmured with a note of indifference in his voice. When Valeran didn’t say anything else, Ellerbie laughed.

“What did I tell ye Freddie, he’s even more closed-mouth than ye are.”

“I talk,” Valeran said tightly. “But only when I have something to say.”

“Ye look familiar, Trotter. ‘ave we met somewhere before?”

Simmons’s voice was soft and insidious. It slithered over his skin with the same deadliness of a poisonous reptile. The man had asked an innocent question, but something was off, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Slowly turning in his seat, Valeran pinned his gaze on the man’s shadow and narrowed his eyes, as if studying Simmons closely. With a shake of his head, Valeran shrugged.

“I don’t think so. Could be I remind you of someone.”

“Maybe, but I rarely forget a face.”

Speculation and amusement filtered its way through Simmons’s voice. But there was a darkness to the man that made Valeran’s muscles grow taut. Thrusting his head forward so Ellerbie no longer blocked his sight, he studied the tall man’s shadow for a long moment, then shook his head.

“Sorry, I don’t think we have,” Valeran said then turned back to his glass of ale.

“I don’t know, I’m sure we’ve met somewhere before.” The man shrugged. “I reckon I’ll remember soon enough.”

“Well, let me know when you do.” Valeran threw the last of his ale down his throat. “I’ll be heading out. Nice to meet you, Simmons. Ellerbie, thanks for the drink.”

“See ye around, Trotter.”

Simmons mumbled a good night, then turned back to the bar. As he started forward, Valeran heard the quiet scrape of a shoe against the floor board. The moment the man’s hip shifted, Valeran knew the man was deliberately putting his foot out for him to trip over. Easily stepping over the man’s foot, he made his way to the exit.

Ellerbie shouted a goodbye, and Valeran waved his hand in the air as he left the pub. Eager to put distance between him and The Black Horse, Valeran began to make his way out of the East End.

Chapter 22

Valeran leaned back in his chair, smiling with satisfaction. He always enjoyed the sense of accomplishment after having completed a challenging task. Tomorrow, it would prove especially rewarding when Jamie handed C his report on the Chattfields. Findings in his partner’s report backed up Valeran’s earlier one, which the head of the Crown’s Secret Intelligence Service foreign section had declared unimpressive. Across from him, Jamie released a sound of gratification.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to be done with an assignment,” his best friend and partner said with a shake of his head. “How you managed to deal with Miriam for as long as you did without throwing her into the Thames is extraordinary. I was ready to kill the woman before the end of the first week.”

“At least we’re done with the pair,” Valeran said with a laugh.

The two of them had just finished reviewing Jamie’s report on his investigation of Lord and Lady Chattfield to ensure nothing important had been omitted. While they’d found nothing resembling subterfuge, they’d both recommended the couple be monitored by someone at a lower level in the division.

Rising from his desk chair, Valeran strode to the liquor cart to collect the tools of the ritual they performed after completing an assignment. Setting two snifters and a decanter in front of his best friend, Valeran nodded to the brandy.

“If you would, Westbury,” he said with a grin. Jamie laughed.

“It always astounds me how easily you navigate your way around the world without your sight, yet you still can’t begin to pour a drink.”

“When have I ever not admitted there are some things beyond my capabilities?” Valeran said with a snort of amusement, settling down again behind his desk. “You know I can’t dance either.”

“You can dance. My aunts and cousins have taught you how. You just choose not to.”

“It’s one thing to learn how to do something, but an entirely different matter to do it well. It’s difficult enough to move through a crowd as if I can see as well as others. Dancing is a challenge I have no intention of accepting.”