Page 49 of When a Lady Kisses a Scot
Slipping her legs over the edge of the bed, she came to her feet, stomped over to the window, and threw open the curtains. Soft rays warmed her face, but she blinked and turned away. Pity she hadn’t taken to her bed at a more respectable hour. Of course, that was not to be helped. After the incident with the hooligans and Stanwyck, she’d required time to ease the tension from her muscles before she could sleep.
Well, there’d be no time to dwell on that. She had scarcely an hour to prepare for an intelligence briefing with Jennie. Her mentor had little patience for tardiness, but there was nothing to be done about it now. After all, she’d suffered a harrowing experience the night before. One simply could not expect a woman who’d narrowly escaped the clutches of ruffians to be prompt for a meeting, much less a meeting held before the clock struck noon.
Rummaging about her quarters, she selected a proper walking suit in a muted shade of green. The sage tones and black braid trim did not distract the eye from her unduly peaked complexion, but a few light pinches to her cheeks were precisely the thing to brighten her weary pallor. Jennie would question her appearance if she appeared unwell or unrested. Quite protective, she was, though she’d no cause to be. Just as Jennie had done in her investigations, Sophie had learned to conduct herself smartly while under duress. She rather relished a challenge. If Stanwyck and his pistol had not happened along, she would’ve minimized the threat and carried on her inquiries. At least, she had not been forced to break cover. Stanwyck’s appearance had been a blessing in that regard. Not that she’d truly needed his assistance.
Despite the warmth in the room, a chill skittered down her spine. She had suffered a close call with the hoodlums. Even now, the hulking oaf’s rancid breath lingered in her memory, and the image of the dark carriage she’d spotted bolting into the night, as if making its escape, set off an instinctive alarm. Whoever had sought her presence had not hesitated to employ violence. Surely, the culprit would not be so easily dissuaded. London suffered from no shortage of vermin ready and willing to perform dirty deeds for the right amount of silver.
Sophie rubbed her hands over her arms. A dull throb met her touch. The blighter had left his mark on her. Stanwyck had been right about that. Not that it mattered. Her shirtwaist blouse would cover the marks. No need to give Jennie one more thing to concern herself with, any reason to consider pulling her from this case.
Piling her hair into a loose coiffure, she placed a handful of pins into the rebellious strands, then selected a velvet-trimmed hat to top her upswept curls. Glancing over the hatpins she kept in a small drawer, she selected a pin adorned with mother-of-pearl and secured the head covering. Adorned as it was, the pin was a beautiful ornament that would draw attention to the dainty hat, but the long, dagger-sharp pin also provided some measure of security. If the criminals who’d attempted to force her into the carriage decided to show their faces again, she’d have a weapon at her fingertips.
Leaving the boardinghouse, she hailed a hack to transport her to Holborn Street, a few blocks from the Boar’s Head Tavern. One could never be too cautious. The driver was most likely a decent fellow. But disclosing her rendezvous location to anyone outside the agency would be imprudent, especially given the circumstances. She’d no cause to suspect she’d been followed. But a coin or two in his palm would prove a strong incentive for a bloke to disclose her destination.
She covered the remaining distance to the establishment on foot, weaving through the pedestrians as if the crowd were a disguise. At times like this, her petite frame was a blessing. Surrounded by gents of all shapes and sizes, she’d be difficult to spot among the men who stood head and shoulders over her. Only the feathery flounce on her hat surpassed the average fellow’s shoulders.
A painted image of a grinning boar hung suspended from a sign outside the plain brick building. Sophie opened the front door of the working man’s pub. The hinges let out a groan cantankerous enough to stir a musty specter from its haunts.
The proprietress sidled up to Sophie. Warmth danced in Geraldine Nolan’s eyes. With many, Gerry had a world-weary way about her, but once she’d warmed up to Sophie, she’d proven a true friend. One of Matthew’s fiercest defenders since his childhood, Gerry had stood true when the former Scotland Yard detective had fallen into disgrace, the victim of a nefarious plot that had cost him everything he’d held dear. His aunt was one of the handful of souls on the planet whom the man would trust with his secrets, as well as his life.
Evidently, Gerry shared her nephew’s keen talent for observation. She studied Sophie’s face, a hint of a smile dancing about her mouth. “Dark circles under yer eyes, my friend. So, dearie, who’s the gentleman who kept ye from your rest?”
It seemed a shame to douse the flicker of innuendo in Gerry’s sly tone. Sophie met her lively eyes. “Ah, if only there had been merelyone. Truth be told, I’ve three men to blame for these horrid shadows.”
Gerry’s brows shot up. Her mouth spread into a teasing smile. “A pair of gents and a spare? And t’think I pondered that ye might need me to give ye a bit of encouragement where luring a man was concerned. Ye’ve done me proud.”
“I’ve no trouble luring them. But their interest isn’t what you think.”
“Do tell, my dear.” Motioning Sophie through the dining area of the café, Gerry led her through the maze of small tables and well-used chairs. As usual, the plain-furnished space smelled of lemons and soap, the freshly swept floor gleaming with a newly applied coat of beeswax beneath their shoes.
“It’s not what you’d like to think,” Sophie said, glancing about the bustling establishment.
Gerry shot her a frown. “I suspect I already know the truth. Jennie’s been in a bit of a stir since she arrived. Seems she’s heard some troubling news.”
“Troubling news, is it? My, is there an operative I’m not aware of within the organization?”
“Ye know I can’t speak to such matters. But suffice it t’say yer editor at theHeraldhas his sources.” Gerry dropped her voice to a whisper.
Of course, MacAllister Campbell would have got wind of the events of the night before. TheHerald’s canny managing editor and Colton Agency operative had established a network of contacts throughout the city. Tin in the hands of a gambling hell tough or a rough-edged tavern bouncer brought in information Campbell would be hard-pressed to attain through more conventional means.
“He was here? This morning?”
Gerry nodded. “He’s been here and gone. Didn’t say much. But what did come out of that tight-lipped mouth of his…well, I’ll leave that to Jennie.”
Blast the man. She’d no need for Campbell to involve hissourcesin her investigation. Though scarcely a decade her senior, he regarded her with a keen protectiveness. If he’d gotten wind of what had happened the night before, he’d likely advised Jennie to assign a more experienced operative to the case.
Gerry led Sophie to the cramped, windowless room she used as an office and closed the door behind them. Jennie sat in a high-back chair, jotting notes on a writing pad. She looked up, her irises green as jade. Tiny creases formed at the corners of her eyes, while her mouth settled into a line that betrayed none of her thoughts.
“Good morning.” Jennie’s voice revealed no hint of emotion, even as she studied Sophie with that diamond-sharp focus of hers. She gestured to the whitewashed sideboard. “Would you like a spot of tea? A pastry, perhaps?”
“Of course,” Sophie said, helping herself to a scone while Gerry poured tea into a delicate white-and-blue porcelain cup that seemed rather out of place in the workman’s pub.
“I’ll be leaving the two of ye to yer business,” Gerry said. “I imagine ye’ve a bit t’discuss.”
“You might say that,” Jennie said, her tone precise and cool. “Thank you, Gerry.”
The older woman stepped quietly from the room. The door closed soundlessly behind her.
“My investigation of Trask has been moving along smoothly,” Sophie offered, heading off the questions in Jennie’s eyes. “I’ve earned the man’s trust. And that is an excellent start.”
