Page 36 of Lady Gambit
Dorian froze.
The air crackled with tension.
He’d known this was a mistake.
Like the gorgon Medusa, Mrs Haggert looked at Miss Chance through unforgiving eyes. “Where is he? Aaron? He ain’t dead. And he ain’t the sort to hide in the shadows. Don’t lie to me now.”
Miss Chance’s bottom lip quivered. “Aaron doesn’t know I’m here.” Her voice carried a childlike quality, as if she instinctively knew how to appease the crone. Before Mrs Haggert could bombard her with questions, she uttered, “You called me Caterina. May I ask why?”
Mrs Haggert cackled. “Ain’t that your name? I know you took a knock to the head—happen that’s why you don’t remember—but when Davey found you, that’s what you said.”
“Davey?” Miss Chance looked baffled. “May I speak to him?”
Mrs Haggert released her. “The clodpole got caught swindling the chandler on Tower Street years ago. Good riddance. I’ll not have a grubby little thief disturbing my boys’ education.”
The woman liked her victims to think she had a charitable heart.
They soon discovered it was rotten to the core.
“One of your boys is locked in a cell in Bow Street,” Daventry said.
“And the rotter can stay there.” Mrs Haggert clicked her tongue. “I try to run an honest house, and that’s how these ungrateful mites repay me. When a boy is hungry, it’s hard to tell if he’s the Lord’s child or the devil’s spawn.”
Daventry gestured to the sofa. “May we sit? We’re here on an official police matter, though whatever we discuss today won’t be relayed to Bow Street.”
“Always the gentleman, Mr Daventry. You know just what to say to win a lady’s heart.” Mrs Haggert rubbed her bony hands together, thrust two fingers into her mouth and whistled loudly. “But nothing in life is free, sir. You know that better than anyone.”
Upon hearing the shrill sound, two men burst into the drawing room. Their necks were as thick as the average man’s thigh. Their squashed noses said they were used to taking punches. They stood like marble statues, blocking the doorway.
“It’s like paying the boatman,” Mrs Haggert continued with a mirthless chuckle. “If you want information from the underworld, you must show me the blunt.” She gestured toDaventry’s onyx cufflinks. “A man used to rolling up his shirt sleeves don’t need fancy adornments.”
Daventry stiffened. “My wife bought me these cufflinks as a wedding gift. I would rather slay everyone here than part with them.”
Mrs Haggert met his challenging stare but knew not to provoke the devil. “Perhaps it’s best I hear what you want before we negotiate a price. I’ll not have blood on my new rug.”
Miss Chance wasn’t listening.
She was studying the room, staring at the men, trying to remember.
A knock to the head might affect a person’s memory temporarily, but not for sixteen years. Dorian wondered if she had unwittingly chosen to forget the traumas she had suffered before becoming Delphine Chance.
“Let’s hear from you, Mr Flynn.” Mrs Haggert’s soulless eyes were upon him, boring through his defences. “Happen you’ve been scouring the shadows, looking for boys who ain’t lost. I’m surprised you’d show your face here. You know we shoot dogs that come sniffing around the coop.”
Dorian wasn’t afraid of this woman or her louts. She used gossip and intimidation to maintain her frightening persona. But what she knew about Delphine Chance might see the lady hanged. As such, he had every reason to fear her.
“Someone tried to abduct Miss Chance. In the process, the blackguard shot her youngest brother.” He was wasting his breath. From Mrs Haggert’s passive expression, she already knew. “I’m charged with solving a case of attempted murder. Miss Chance has also hired me to discover her parents’ identities.”
A strange emotion passed over the woman’s wrinkled face—something akin to dread or unease. “Aaron has many enemies. You’ve enough work to keep you busy for a month. Happen youfeel more at home in the rookeries than in your father’s fancy Mayfair residence.”
He inclined his head. “You’re right on both counts, madam.”
“I hear he’s arranging your wedding.” She noted Miss Chance’s sudden gasp and grinned. “Ah, and there’s the truth of why you’re really here, Mr Flynn. You’re looking for an excuse not to marry the Marquess of Bexley’s beloved by-blow.”
His pulse quickened.
He was forced to acknowledge the problem he had been avoiding. “Forgive my coarse language, but it would take more than a pretty face and a large dowry to have me bend to that bastard’s will. I’m my own man, Mrs Haggert. I choose my own fate. As I’m sure you’re aware.”
Mrs Haggert turned to Miss Chance. “What do you say, Caterina? Should Mr Flynn marry for money and acceptance? Or do you think he prefers getting his knees dirty?”
