Page 47 of His Scandalous Lessons
The rookeries had a distinctive smell that made Richard’s stomach heave.
It was bodies and smoke, piss and shit, fish and other oddities that he couldn’t possibly name. Richard had only spent time in the rookeries if he needed to gather information. The network of criminals was vast, and while he hadn’t grown up amid its winding, labyrinthine streets, his politics put him in contact with the people who wielded power here. The East End might officially belong to the Queen, but she would never set foot in such a place. It was a world unto itself, lawless.
And Thorne was the ruler here.
Richard knew the man would come looking for him; he’d made sure to hang around just long enough to be seen before he headed back in the direction he came. Thorne employed any number of spies in these streets — children, prostitutes, shop owners. The street children, in particular, would be looking for coin from Thorne for sharing Richard's presence. He was generous to those under his protection.
Soon, Richard sensed a presence behind him, more shadow than man. And it was deliberate, he knew, because Thorne could cut a blade across his throat before he could even blink.
“Coming into my territory for a reason, Grey?”
Thorne’s accent was clipped. Richard had never been able to get a feel for its whereabouts; he could shift it easily. Mimic whomever he spoke to. If he had a mind to pass among the nobility in St. James’s, he sounded just as blue-blooded as Richard. Other times, his accent was as native to the rookeries as the other criminals.
Richard turned. “Took you long enough.”
Thorne lifted a shoulder. “Dealing with a situation. I can’t abide cheaters.”
Thorne was taller than Richard, larger too. As muscular and sleek as a cat, and just as deadly. Where Richard was fair with blond hair and blue eyes, Thorne was dark. His black hair was on the long side, as if he hadn’t the time for a trim recently, and his eyes were a dark brown that was almost black. The eyes of the devil, Richard had heard from the men outside of Whitechapel.
In Whitechapel, he was their avenging angel. Their police. Those under his protection were fortunate, for he was not kind to those outside it.
“Kill a man, Thorne?”
Thorne’s smile was slow. “Maybe. Maybe not. You got a reason to know?”
“Not really.”
“Then how about you tell me what you want, Grey? I’ve already got men working to secure that vote, if that’s what you’ve come to ask. Unless you can’t pay ‘em, in which case we’ve got a problem. I don’t like men who don’t keep their word, either.”
“I always pay up,” Richard said. “Different business. Two things. One’s a favor and the other’s a question.”
Thorne laughed shortly, as if he couldn’t believe the audacity. “How’s about we start with the question and I’ll consider the favor.”
Richard leaned against the wall of the building. “Why don’t you tell me why you’ve been stopping by my brother’s house.”
Something flickered in Thorne’s gaze and Richard wondered if he’d startled the other man. Then Thorne shrugged again. “Nice area. Thinking about buying property.” This time his glare was pointed. “Got someone watching me, Grey?”
“Not me. Stanton Sheffield.”
“Fucking Tory cunt,” Thorne muttered. “That blundering bastard was a shite hire, besides.”
“Wait, youknewsomeone was following you?”
“Course I did. Didn’t care unless I want to keep my comings and goings a secret. St. James's ain’t exactly a place for clandestine meetings. What’s your favor?”
“Context first. The Duke of Kendal has been taking children from your orphanages.”
Thorne’s gaze darkened. “Was wondering why you were sniffing around the places. Ain’t seen your duke at any. Hirelings?”
“One I know of. He’s the one who told me which places, how many and how much he got for each child.”
If anything, Thorne’s expression grew darker, murderous. Richard knew why men believed him to be demon-possessed. Were he a superstitious man, he’d wonder the same. “I’ll have his name.”
“Thorne—”
“You fucking toffs come here, kidnap children off the streets, and either work ‘em to death or rape them.” He stepped forward, his hands forming into fists. “Those kids are under my protection, so you will give me his fucking name.”
“I’ll take my favor first.”
