Page 26 of Stolen By the Rogue
“Ah, so you are back. Thought I might be seein’ you again. And this time you bought a gentleman wiv you. Is he your pimp? And does he have any coin?” said the shopkeeper.
If I didn’t have a bullet wound in my shoulder, you would be picking your teeth up off the floor.
To George’s surprise and utter dismay, instead of Jane taking offence, she simply smiled at the man.
What the devil?
She leaned over the counter, not flinching when the shopkeeper’s gaze drifted to her breasts. George was ready to commit murder if the man so much as moved his hand in the direction of Jane’s body.
“Who he is and what coin he has will depend on whether you are going to let me have another look at the house,” she said.
When the shopkeeper winked at Jane, George was on the verge of ignoring his injured arm and throwing a punch or two at the man’s head. Jane, however, seemed more than happy to continue to toy with him.
She smiled sweetly once more at the shopkeeper as he handed over a set of keys.
“Thank you, darling,” she said, and blew him a kiss.
Outside in the street, George couldn’t hold either his tongue or temper any longer. He rounded on Jane. “What on earth was that all about? You were flirting with him. Have you no self-respect?”
Jane raised an eyebrow. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my sweet-talking of men like him has been getting me plenty of discounts and special favors all over London. You are not the only one who has the gift of a silver tongue, George Hawkins. I was raised alongside the local market children in Byblos, and they could negotiate you into the dust.” She waved the key in his face, then turned and headed toward number eleven. A still thoroughly displeased George followed.
When they reached the house, he took a hold of the corner of her coat sleeve. “I don’t think you realize the risk you are running in playing games with a man like him. I know his kind. The minute he thinks he can take advantage of you he will.”
Jane stopped a few feet shy of the front door. She turned and roughly brushed George’s hand away. “I am not the innocent you seem to think I am, George. The world is full of men seeking to take what they can from young, vulnerable women. I include you in that list. Believe me, I don’t fully trust anyone. I made that mistake once before, and I will be damned if I will ever do it again.”
While Jane jingled the set of keys in her hand, a sheepish George set his gaze to the upper levels of the house and other nearby buildings. Anything to avoid having to meet her eyes. “This place needs to be condemned and torn down,” he muttered.
The façade of the house reminded him of the RR Coaching Company offices in Gracechurch Street. Alice had made plenty of noises about painting the building and making it more enticing for potential customers, but Monsale wouldn’t have it. To his way of thinking, the dingy look kept prying eyes away. And initially, George had agreed.
But the time will come when it will need a tart up. If we are ever going make an attempt to run an honest business, we have to be able to attract paying customers.
Jane fiddled with the lock for a moment, wriggling it back and forth.
Finally, George stepped up and held out his hand. “May I? You might have the gift of a smile for getting things done, but keys and locks are somewhat of a specialty for me.”
She gave him a filthy look, then took a step back. Within seconds, George had the door open.
The instant he set foot inside the three-storied ramshackle house, the stench of years of neglect and filth assaulted his senses. George winced. “This is almost as bad as the foul cloth under which I hid for an hour at the embassy.”
She patted him on the back. “Yes, but this one doesn’t come with the added pain of a bullet.”
He glanced at her. This was the first time since Jane had arrived at Grosvenor Street earlier that morning that she appeared to have lowered her guard with him. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“Why does the shopkeeper think you are on the game?” he asked.
She screwed up her face. “Would you judge me harshly if I told you that I may have led him to form that opinion? I was hardly going to knock on the man’s front door and tell him I was in search of hidden treasure that may just happen to be in a house that he currently owns. He has to believe that I have a good reason to want to come and live in this rat-infested hellhole.”
Of course. That makes sense. I think last night’s dose of laudanum might have addled my mind.
“I doubt I could ever find you wanting for character,” he replied.
Jane reached past George and pushed the front door closed. “The reality is that there are few people who would offer him any sort of money for this shabby mess. And they are more than likely the sort to be engaged in less than moral occupations.” She shook her head. “I am surprised I am having to explain that to you, George.”
He flinched. No one had ever called him out on his nefarious ways, and to hear Jane say such a thing actually stung. If it had been one of the other members of the rogues of the road who had accused him of being wicked, he might have managed to laugh it off. But it was different with Jane. With her, he didn’t feel the same sense of levity about being a career criminal.
His view of Jane was in constant flux. She was clearly not some innocent miss. How much she did know of the world and the truth of life was a question George badly wanted answered.
He followed her farther inside the house, and at the end of a short hallway they stepped into a basic kitchen. Jane stopped and held out her hands, presenting the space to him. “What do you think? If you ask me, I can just imagine how perfect it will be for when we start a family. A baby’s crib would look lovely in the corner.”
