Page 63 of A Deal With a Notorious Devil
A woman could. Phoebe could not. There was a tiny nudge against his shoe—Chris glanced down to see Hieronymus making an effort to climb atop it. With a sour grumble and a pointed look at Phoebe, he reached down to reorient the turtle, sending him on another long journey about the library.
“What?” she inquired with a haughty tip of her nose. “He likes the library.”
“He likes his damned pond,” Chris said. “It’s where he belongs. He’s an outside turtle.”
“He’s an inside turtle when I desire company.”
“If you had wanted company,” he said, “you need only have asked.”
“You?” The arch of her brows suggested doubt. “You’ve been secluded away within your study all day.”
“Putting things to rights—at your command, if you’ll recall. Besides,” he huffed, “haven’t you got altogether too damned many sisters? You might have invited one of them.” He knew well enough that she’d taken tea with Charity earlier in the day. Had been hoping she might mention it.
“Curiously,” Phoebe said archly, “my family is somewhat reluctant to visit, even if invited.Someonesent a litter of puppies to Laurence’s children, and they are naturally reticent to find themselves the recipients of so…thoughtful a gift.”
Ah, hell. “Children like puppies,” he said, affecting an innocent expression—or as near enough to one as a man of his disrepute was capable of managing, which he supposed was not particularly competent.
Phoebe cast her book down beside her, and it landed with athwackupon the couch. “Six puppies, Kit!Six!”
“He’s got six children, hasn’t he? You should be thankful I made an effort to remember it.” A puppy each. It had sounded fair when he’d made the arrangements.
“They’ve ruined four pairs of Laurence’s best boots, two Aubusson carpets,andthey’ve chewed a leg off of a perfectly serviceable dinner table! Regrettably, they made such short work of it that nobody noticed until the whole thing collapsed in the middle of dinner, and—and Laurence—” She took a short breath, something that sounded suspiciously like a snort escaping through her nose. “Laurence found himself—found himself entirely covered—in filets of sole with tarragon cream sauce.” She wheezed with laughter, attempting to smother it behind the tips of her fingers with little success. “God! I wish Imight have seen it.”
“You’ve got six sisters upon whom we might bestow puppies,” he suggested mildly.
“No!” But her shoulders still shook with reluctant mirth, and she swiped what he thought must be tears of amusement from her eyes. “You cannot go around sending puppies to everyone who displeases you!”
“I thought you’d find it somewhat more palatable than maiming.”
“Do you know, I think Laurence would rather have been maimed. He’s lost at least three good servants, and he can’t even send the puppies to the countryside, because the children would be just devastated.” She sobered with a sigh, her hands landing in her lap. “Who is Russell?” she asked at last.
“Russell? Where did you hear that name?” There was the tickle of a memory somewhere at the back of his mind, some sort of distant familiarity to the name.
“Charity made mention that a man had come round to your—your office in search of you,” she said. “He said he’d been sent by someone called Russell.”
“Don’t know a Russell,” he said. At least, not one that had been made known to him when he and Brooks had gone through his illicit documents. And yet, that name… “Hell,” he said. He might not know a Russell. But one knew him. “I don’t know him,” he said again, “but one of Em’s children made mention of a Russell.” The little mudlark called Albert he’d taken to her some weeks ago. “He’s a kidsman, most likely. Running a gang of child-thieves out of the rookeries.”
“What business could he have with you?” Phoebe asked.
“Probably,” Chris said, “he’d like for me to stop interfering inhis.” Most of the children whom Em had taken in represented a loss of income for the kidsmen who had once employed them. Though there were countless children in dire straits that mightbe taught the nimbleness they’d require to make proficient thieves, still it was a training that required a great deal of time. Even Phoebe hadn’t learned it overnight, and still she relied on the distraction of a nudge or a shove to disguise the nipping of her fingers into a pocket.
“Should I be worried?”
Chris shrugged. “Like as not, he’d like to frighten me into letting his gang alone,” he said. “That’s how they operate, the kidsmen. A steady diet of fear alongside a few scraps of bread is usually enough to keep the children in line.” And if that wasn’t enough, then a few slaps generally did the trick. Like Scratch had done, wielding dread against the children he’d taken into his gang like it was a weapon.
He simply hadn’t expected Chris to usurp him from his place. His mistake, really.
“Do you think this…thisRussellmight have been the one to shoot at you?”
“Possible,” he said. “I’ve washed my hands of most everything else that might be worth killing over, so I suppose if there’s another attempt, we’ll have our answer.” And in the meantime, he’d have a chat with Em and see if she’d learned anything from the little mudlark she’d taken into her home.
“You’ve really done it?” she asked, her eyes widening minutely.
“That’s what Brooks and I weresecluded awayfor,” he said, and added pointedly, “while you and Charity were taking tea. I suppose you had a pleasant chat?”
A sudden surge of color came into her cheeks in a violent wash of pink. “Pleasant enough,” she said, her fingers sliding across the couch toward her abandoned book.
“About what?”
