Page 52 of From Duke Till Dawn
Alex had been all too ready to cast her as the thieving villainess, yet he didn’t seem to think of her that way anymore. He kept defending her when he’d had no reason to come to her aid.
He clearly struggled with their constantly shifting roles. Yet, as they continued to look through the spectators, he kept glancing back at her, as if making sure she was safe.
There was a goodness in him that went beyond duty. It was innate, even as he continued to mistrust her.
Was it merely desire that pulled Alex to her, or had they progressed to something even more complicated—two people, free of pretense, seeing each other as they were for the first time? Her chest ached with the desire for him to wanther, all of her. Perhaps that was impossible. Perhaps she wished for foolish dreams—and she already knew what happened to those who dreamed.
Her head throbbed. Little made sense anymore, and it seemed that this lead in tracking Martin came to nothing. They’d been combing the spectators with no sign of her former mentor. Where else could they look for him? Maybe searching London’s brothels would yield some results. Or the theaters, or pleasure gardens, or any of a hundred places a swindler might go to spend his blunt before slipping out of town forever.
Cassandra was about to suggest to Alex that they pack it in, when the crowd shifted slightly, revealing a man in a checked coat. Nobody gently born would ever wear such a thing. Yet it seemed familiar.
The man wearing the coat turned to watch the horses at the starting line, revealing his face.
“Alex,” she hissed, tugging on his hand. “It’s him.” She nodded in the checked coat’s direction. “Look slowly.”
Alex did as she commanded, casually glancing over his shoulder. But she felt his hand stiffen as he recognized Martin.
“Approach him cautiously,” he said between his teeth.
“We should split up,” Cassandra suggested. “You take him from one side, I’ll get the other.”
He eyed her warily.
“Why would I run?” she demanded. “If we don’t move on him now, we could lose him.”
His look softened, and Alex nodded.
They broke apart, and she swiftly but stealthily made her way past the spectators in her path, carefully keeping her face averted so Martin couldn’t see her. She drew on her experience as a pickpocket to slip through the crowd without causing a disturbance.
She espied Alex coming from the other direction, slowly but determinedly approaching Martin.
There was a cry, and the first race began. The crowd surged toward the track, jostling her. The movement caused enough of a disturbance that Martin looked right at her.
She prayed he would look at her with misery and an apology in his expression. That he’d rush toward her with open arms, insisting it was just a stupid, horrible misunderstanding.
The moment his gaze met hers, he looked aghast, then panicked. Not ashamed or apologetic. Fearful. Of her, because he knew he’d done wrong and had no desire to make things right.
Her heart shattered. She’d gulled herself.
She wondered why he’d stayed in London—but some part of him must crave the excitement of knowing he was a wanted man, of staying a step ahead of everyone.
Her resolve hardened. If Martin didn’t have the money, she’d drag him in front of Rose and Lacey and letthemdeal with him. He’d chosen his fate, and she would treat him with the same heartlessness with which he’d treated her.
She took a step toward him.
Seconds before Alex reached out to grab hold of his arm, Martin darted away. He slipped between bystanders.
She gave chase. Both she and Alex pursued Martin as he wove and careened through the crowd. A man cursed Martin as he rammed into him, causing the man to spill his ale. But Martin didn’t slow. He led them away from the turf, where the race thundered past.
The crowd moved to keep up with the progress of the racing horses, blocking Martin before she or Alex could reach him. When the crowd broke up, Martin had disappeared. There was no sign of his checked coat.
“Where is he?” she asked Alex, spinning around in a circle.
“Can’t see him in this bedlam,” Alex said, frustration in his voice. He craned his neck to scan the area. “He’s close. Nobody can just vanish.”
She’d seen bag snatchers do exactly that. There’d been a time when she could lose a tail as easily as snapping her fingers. Despite Martin’s age, he still had a whiff of the streets about him.
Her heart sank. They’d come so close, but for nothing. They’d have to find some other lead, if any existed.
