Page 9 of To Catch A Rogue
"Who are you?" he'd asked.
"The bane of your existence."
"Careful now," Charlie had whispered, staring intently at her without moving. "Haven't they told you I might try to rip out your throat?"
"You can try," she'd replied, with all the bravado of a young girl suddenly faced with a handsome boy. She'd slipped her hand into her pocket and then showed him the set of brass knuckles she'd slipped on. "But I wouldn't advise it, 'specially if you like your teeth where they are."
Interest dawned in his face, and he slowly sat up. "You're not afraid of me."
"You think you're the first craver Blade's locked up in 'ere?"
"What's your name?" he'd asked.
"Lark."
"That's a girl's name."
"That's because I'm a girl."
And whatever foolish feelings had begun blooming within her died a short death as she realized he saw exactly what everyone else saw when they looked at her: a grubby little boy in oversized clothes with razored hair.
"Aren't you going to say you missed me too?" Charlie prodded, and Lark came back to the here and now, realizing she was still staring into those very blue eyes.
"I've been busy," she demurred. "Barely give you a thought at all."
He rested his arms on the table and leaned closer. "Did you know you always look at my nose instead of my eyes when you're lying? And it's 'gave you.' Honoria would wince if she heard that."
His older sister, Honoria, had been giving Lark elocution lessons for years in order to strip the Cockney from her tongue. "It will open up more opportunities for you in life," Honoria liked to say.
Lark'd thought it a laugh at first, until she realized there was value in being able to speak as the Echelon did.
For one thing, it was easier to get closer to them. If you sounded like you came from the East End, people started to protect their pockets.
Opportunities, indeed.
"Not all of us had the privilege of being raised in a duke's house. But thank you for correcting me."
This time it was Charlie's turn to wince. "I'm floundering."
Their drinks arrived, and Lark tugged the small silver flask from her waistcoat and poured some blood into her cup. She smiled evilly over the top of it as she sipped. "Yes, you are. It seems you can't charm your way out of everything. But do go on. It's amusing to watch the Great Charlie Todd put his foot in his mouth. Still miss me?"
"Every damned day. Especially now." His gaze flickered to hers, and he drummed his fingers on the table. "I need a thief. A good one."
Ah. Business.
"Then look in the mirror," Lark said. "There's nothing I can do that you can't."
"Let me start at the beginning." He began flipping a small golden orb over and under his thumb. In anyone else, fidgeting would have been a sign of nerves, but Charlie was always restless. He seemed to be buoyed with more energy than his skin could possibly hold, and sitting still seemed impossible for him. "You know I've been working for the Duke of Malloryn for several months now?"
Lark crossed her arms, unwilling to let him know she'd been quietly keeping an eye upon him. "So I've heard."
"There's a team of us. We call ourselves the Company of Rogues, and we were working under the Duke of Malloryn to locate an unknown conspirator trying to tear the queen from the throne."
Lark's eyebrow rose. Though London was still striving to recover from the mess the prince consort had left it in, few could argue the queen wasn’t a vast improvement.
To lose her would be to cast London back into chaos.
"Two weeks ago, we managed to discover who's behind the plot against the throne during an assassination attempt on the queen. Lord Balfour is—"
