Page 30 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
“I might.”
“There’s a crown in it for you, and your first pint at the Mermaid is on me.”
She gave a sly smile and a quick nod. “Ye’ve got me devotion now.”
“And...” Gillie handed her several of the wooden tokens. “For those sleeping on the ropes tonight.”
She tucked them into the pocket on her stained apron. “If there was more like ye in this world, Gillie, it’d be a better world.”
“There are plenty like me, Mrs. Bard. You have a good day.” She turned on her heel and headed back toward the street.
He made a move to follow.
“Ye ’urt ’er, people ’round ’ere will kill ye.”
He glanced back at Mrs. Bard. “I’ve no plans to hurt her.”
“Just cuz ye don’t plan it don’t mean it won’t ’appen.” She shut the door, leaving him feeling the worst sort of scoundrel because he did enjoy Gillie’s company, but now worried he was taking advantage of Lavinia’s disappearance to use it as an excuse so he had a viable reason for limping along beside Gillie as she knocked on one lodging house door after another. He had to admire the manner in which she could speak to people without offending them. It seemed if he opened his mouth, they took an immediate dislike to him. He didn’t know some of the terms she used. He certainly didn’t know these people by name.
They’d just left their sixth house when she made an abrupt turn down an alleyway and unerringly approached what looked to be a makeshift shelter, some sort of tarp or cloth supported by thin sticks. Debris littered the ground, and he worked to avoid stepping in anything that might require he burn his boots. She crouched in front of what appeared to be an opening. In spite of his leg protesting, he joined her and nearly recoiled from the foul stench of human waste and rotting carcass cast off by the bearded, wild-haired, nearly toothless shriveled man huddled within the enclosure.
“Hello, Petey.” She greeted him as though he were a favorite relation. “I was wondering if you’ve taken in any timepieces of late.”
He was eyeing Thorne, taking his measure, rather than looking at her. “I might ’ave. Wot’s it to ye?”
Thorne’s heart jumped within his chest. He was searching for Lavinia, but if he could also regain his timepiece—
“Five quid if you still have the one I’m looking for.”
The scruffy man reached beneath his backside, pulled out a pouch, and dumped three watches onto the dirty rags in front of him and then waved his hand over them as though presenting a gift. Thorne didn’t have to examine them to know the silver pieces were not the gold one for which he was searching. “Do you have a gold one?”
He shook his head, but looked guilty doing it.
“Have you had a gold one?” Gillie asked.
“Not recently.”
Twisting around on the balls of her feet, she turned to Thorne. “Did it have anything unusual on it?”
“A crest that had a vine of roses circling a lion with a thorn in its paw.”
Her grin made him want to reach out, cup her chin, and stroke his thumb over those lips. “A thorny vine, I suppose, and a thorn in the paw for Thornley.”
“I fear my ancestors were not the most imaginative.”
She gave her attention back to the old man. “Anything like that, Petey?”
“Nah. I don’t git brung the good stuff.”
“If you hear of it making the rounds, let me know. I’ll see it worth your while.” Then she took hold of that grimy hand—willingly placed her hand on it—turned it up, put two wooden tokens into it, and folded his fingers around her gift. “You take care now.”
“You too, Gil.”
Straightening, she began walking away. He joined her. “I take it he’s a fence.”
She glanced over at him. “He is.”
“Not a very successful one to live like that.”
