Earls Just Want to Have Fun (23 page)

“No!” Marlowe said quickly. “Half of St. Giles will descend on you. There's a door leading to an alley in the back. We'll step out there.” She began to move away, but Dane grabbed her elbow and tugged her back into the room. Gideon moved forward as though to protect her, but she held up a hand, staying the lad.

Dane pulled her aside and murmured, “I don't like you going off with him.”

“He's an old friend,” she said, casting Gideon a glance. “There's no danger.”

“He works for Satin.”

She shook her head. “He has no more love for Satin than we do. We need to make certain Sir Brook received our message. I can ask Gideon to do that.”

“You trust him that much?” Dane asked.

“With my life.” She moved away again, but Dane had not released her arm. With a tug, he hauled her up against him.

“Be careful.” He lowered his lips, and without waiting for her permission, captured her mouth with his. The kiss was long and deep and possessive. He was being an absolute idiot. He knew that, but he couldn't seem to help it. He needed to claim her.

She didn't kiss him back, but she didn't resist either, and when they parted, her cheeks were rosy and her breath short. “Why did…you do that?” she asked.

“So you wouldn't forget me. I'll be here, waiting for you.” Slowly, he released her arm. She stood pressed against him for a moment longer and then stepped back and fled through the open door. Gideon stood in the doorway, and the two men's gazes locked. Finally, he moved to follow Marlowe, and Dane sat in the chair and cursed himself for a fool.

***

“What the devil was that?” Gideon asked when they were in the dark alley. It stank more than Marlowe remembered, and was almost as dark as the windowless room, although they were outside, and there should have been light. She was careful to watch her step as she moved away from the door and turned to face Gideon.

“Nothing,” she said. “Where is Satin? Tell me all the news.”

“Satin? All's snug.” She relaxed slightly. Gideon's mouth thinned. “With that gentry cove, it didn't look like
nothing
to me.”

Marlowe blew out a breath. It hadn't felt like nothing to her, either. Her heart was still pounding. Perhaps it was Dane himself who made her ill. She had felt fine until he'd kissed her. “I don't have to explain myself. You've kissed plenty of girls.”

“Girls, yes, but I ain't never kissed one of
them
.”

“I don't want to talk about this.”

“Oh, you don't want to talk about this,” Gideon said, mocking her with an upper-class accent. “Too high and mighty for me now.”

“No! I just don't see how me kissing Dane has anything to do with anything.”

“Then let me explain,” Gideon said, leaning close. “He's one of them. He'll use you and discard you. I seen it a 'undred times.”

“I have too. Do you think I'm that stupid? I'd never fall into that trap. I'm not his ladybird.”

“Then why did he kiss you?”

She shrugged. It was a question she kept asking herself. “I don't know.”

“You may not want to be his ladybird, but he has other ideas.”

“Then he'll be sorely disappointed.”

Gideon nodded, studying her face. “You're pretty,” he said finally. Marlowe felt the heat explode in her cheeks, and she ducked her head.

“Have you been drinking?” she asked.

Gideon tipped her chin up. “No. I mean, I always knew it, but now that I see you without all the dirt, I see how fine you really are. I see why he wants you.”

She snorted. “
You
never did.” With a gasp, she covered her mouth. She hadn't meant to say it aloud, but now she couldn't take it back. And now he knew that she'd cared for him as more than just a friend. Did she still feel that way? All she could seem to think of lately was Dane.

Gideon shook his head. “Because I was never good enough for you.”

“Oh, and he's too good.”

“Do you think he's going to marry you?”

“Of course not! He's an earl. He lives in Mayfair.”

Gideon's eyes narrowed. “So he's the one. I thought so.”

“What does that mean?”

“Satin is down. He's been watching you.”

“I know. He found me in the garden at the duchess's ball.” Gideon gave her an incomprehensible look, and Marlowe laughed. “I know. Can you imagine it? Me, at a ball!”

“It's not so hard, if I picture you in a dress.”

“Satin found me and threatened me. He wants to crack the earl's house, and he wants my help.”

“But you're in love with the earl and don't want to help.”

“Don't be daft! I'm not in love with him! But I don't want to rook from him either. He's…different. And his sister is kind and sweet. I don't want to hurt them.” She glanced behind her. “And I'm tired of being Satin's crony. I know a way to get rid of him.”

Gideon sucked in a breath. “You're going to find yourself in an eternity box.”

“I'm dead anyway,” she said. “Satin will never let me go. He'd kill me before he let me go free, and if I stay with him, how long until he goes into one of his rages and kills me, like he did Sammy or Zachariah?”

Gideon's gaze lowered to the ground. They never spoke the names of the dead out loud. Never talked about what happened when one crossed Satin, but they'd all seen the boys beaten to bloody mush then dumped in the river like trash.

“I don't need to marry Dane,” Marlowe said. “I have another chance. Remember that Bow Street Runner? The one who thought I was Elizabeth? He's Dane's brother. He thinks I'm the lost daughter of the Marquess of Lyndon.”

“Are you?”

“I don't know, but I want the chance to find out.” She paused and swallowed. “Will you row in my boat?”

Gideon took a deep breath and let it out. He pushed his hands in his pockets and toed the ground. “Tell me your game, and I'll do what I can.”

She hugged him, but he didn't hug her back. Quickly, she summarized the plan, and Gideon nodded. “It might work. Will the Runner agree?”

“He's Dane's brother. We sent him a note to meet us tomorrow night. Will you see whether he received it?”

Gideon looked as though he might choke. “You want me to
look
for
a Runner?”

“He can't bone you for associating with Satin.” But Runners did all sorts of unscrupulous things, and Gideon knew it as well as she. She would just have to hope her instincts about Brook were not wrong.

“I'll go. Will you still be here when I get back?”

She nodded. “We rented Barbara's room.”

Gideon's brows rose. “A bed and everything. You're moving up in the world.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. Her skin tingled, but she didn't feel ill. She also didn't feel sparks.

“Keep your eyes open, Marlowe.”

“I always do.”

“Not just with Satin, with your gentry cove too.”

She waved his advice away. “I can handle him.” She started for the door back inside the public house, but Gideon stepped in front of her.

“One last thing. I don't think he's too good for you. If he won't make you his comfortable importance, then he's not good enough.” And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the alley.

***

Gideon strolled along the familiar streets of London, hands in his pockets and head down. He wanted anyone who noticed him to see a man strolling, not looking for attention or trouble. He didn't know where this Brook might be found, but he thought the office of the Runners on Bow Street, across from the Brown Bear flash ken, a good place to start.

He wasn't looking for a racket, but it was hard not to see opportunities as he walked. There was a man who would make an easy bubble. There was a woman whose wipe he could have had without blinking an eye. But Gideon ignored the impulse to take advantage of the easy game. He wasn't a rook at heart. He'd wanted to stay alive, and he'd become a thief, but it was out of necessity, not because he loved to bilk. Most of the time he thought about his game later and hoped they didn't need the coins he'd dived for or the items he'd filched. He always felt remorse for what he'd taken. Not that he'd ever admit it. Hot coals to the bottoms of his feet wouldn't have persuaded him to admit to such a weakness.

So it wasn't hard now to ignore the opportunities to take what wasn't his. He couldn't stop himself from noticing them, but he didn't have to act. In any case, he had a mission. He'd promised Marlowe he'd find this Sir Brook. He must have been an idiot to agree to go to Bow Street's office, but it wouldn't be the first time he was an idiot for Marlowe.

He'd been in love with her since the first time he saw her. How could he not be? She had those huge blue eyes, and when she looked at him, his heart clenched in his chest. He'd taught her everything he knew about diving and the rest of the rackets. She didn't need to be told a thing twice, and after she learned all he had to teach, she taught him a few things.

He loved watching her work. Loved watching her laugh. Loved watching her sleep—that was where his idiocy came in. He'd spent many an hour when he should have been sleeping, watching her. And when she'd finally asked him to kiss her, he'd been as nervous as a corny-faced virgin. Kissing her had been everything he'd imagined—and he'd imagined it quite a lot—and more. He hadn't been able to get enough of her, though he'd made himself go slowly.

It hadn't taken more than two or three times kissing her before he realized she wasn't affected like he was. She must have found his kisses pleasant, but her cheeks weren't flushed, her heart wasn't pounding, her breath wasn't gone. He was in an agony of desire every time he was near her, but she was blissfully unaffected. So he'd told her they didn't have a spark, and ended things before they'd begun. There were other women, and he lost himself in a few of those, trying to forget Marlowe.

He almost thought he'd done it, too, until she opened Barbara's door, and Gideon had seen
him
standing there. And then all the feelings had rushed back, and Gideon had wanted to kill the nob, because Gideon could see how Marlowe looked at the swell. She was in love with him. All the things he'd wanted her to feel for him, she felt for that swell, who probably didn't deserve her. Who probably thought she was just some rook he could use and discard.

Something prevented Gideon from pointing this out to Marlowe. She wouldn't have listened anyway, that was true, but there was something else. He stopped now, a few blocks from Bow Street, and stared at an apple cart while he sorted it out.

He hadn't told her because seeing her with that nob, seeing her clean and dressed in fresh clothing, was right. He'd always known she would rise to the top if she could escape Satin. She belonged with a swell like that, not in the rookeries amidst the filth and grime.

“Apples! Fresh apples! Only a bob for an apple,” the seller bellowed, and Gideon blinked. He dug in his ragged trousers and found a shilling. Tossing it to the apple seller, he picked a red apple and bit into it. It was old and a bit mealy, but Gideon had eaten worse. He tossed the core into the street when he was done and turned onto Bow Street. No matter what happened with Marlowe's swell, she'd decided to rid the world of Satin, and Gideon couldn't argue with that idea. He'd thought about doing it a thousand times, but Satin would have seen it coming immediately. He didn't trust Gideon, and he had his little rat Beezle watching Gideon all the time.

Satin would never see it coming from Marlowe. She was a girl, and Satin didn't think girls were good for much more than a tumble. Only Gideon's insistence that Marlowe was the best in the gang had kept Satin from selling her to some dirty cove for a handful of shillings. She was smart enough to keep her feminine charms covered as much as she could. She didn't want to remind Satin she was a girl any more than Satin needed to be reminded, but the older she grew, the harder it was not to see it, no matter what she did to hide it.

Her eyes were too pretty, her lips too full, her cheeks too soft. And her body. Even when she bound her breasts, there was nothing she could do about the flare of her hips or the roundness of her bottom. And so Gideon pushed down his natural reluctance to enter the Runners' office and opened the door. If Marlowe didn't get out from under Satin now, she never would.

A clerk looked up when Gideon entered, his mouth curling down in a familiar gesture of distaste. Gideon tried not to mind. He knew he was scarred, dirty, and looked like what he was—a common rook—but in his mind the Runners were a hundred times worse than him. He was an honest thief. He didn't pretend to be anything else. The Runners acted like their hands were lily-white, when they were as dirty as any cub in Seven Dials.

“What do you want?” the clerk said. Behind him, Runners moved about, going in and out of doors. The floors creaked as boots clomped over the wood. A few of the men looked up curiously then went back to their papers or their conversations. The place had a busy hum and smelled like spoiled food.

Gideon gave the man his most charming smile. “I want to see Sir Brook Derring.”

The clerk, who was little more than a boy himself, laughed. “Get in line. Every female in London wants to see Sir Brook.”

Gideon kept smiling, though his fist itched to knock the lad on his freckled nose. The mark he left would give the puppy's doughy face some color. “I'm not a wench. I have business with Sir Brook.”

“What's your name?”

“Gideon.”

The clerk shook his head. “He didn't mention a Gideon. You'd better be on your way.”

“Is he here?” Gideon asked, standing rooted in place.

“What's it to you?”