She peered down her nose unconvinced as she wafted a regal hand in the air. “Please, do enlighten me with your superior masculine expertise and wisdom.” She really didn’t want to hear it, but he was enjoying her outrage too much to completely back down. Her lovely eyes always shimmered like stars when her hackles were raised. “For what could I, with my four years of experience teaching orphans, possibly know about how to deal with them?”
“I’ll admit everything I know about teaching orphans could be counted on zero fingers—” Gal held up his fist with a wiggle as proof. “—but I do know that when a prime opportunity presents itself, only a fool doesn’t exploit it.”
“How splendid. Riddles. Just what I needed to help me tame the untamable Claypoles.” She spun toward the bookshelf again and searched for another volume. “I shall be sure to act on that sage advice as soon as I’ve solved the puzzle.” She reached up and used the tip of her finger to attempt to prise a copy ofIvanhoefrom the highest shelf rather than ask him to do it. “Because I do so enjoy a puzzle.” She played the no-nonsense schoolmistress well—the teacher’s glare punctuating the end of that tart British sarcasm was magnificent. It got more terrifying the second he dared to laugh at it and raise his palms in surrender.
“Before you send me to the corner to wear the dunce’s hat, allow me to explain my theory—and it very much is a theory rather than a set-in-stone, I-know-best solution, because you are the expert here and I know absolutely nothing about teaching. However, it strikes me thatif Tommy Claypole is an intelligent and natural leader who has the enviable talent of influencing others, instead of giving him a free rein to lead them where he pleases in his ongoing quest to get attention from you—” Gal effortlessly grabbed the offending book that was eluding her and passed it to her, forcing her to look at him before he let it go. “—thenexploitboth of those things. Use his talent for leadership to suit your purposes by giving him some proper responsibility. Make himyourmost trustedleft-tenant, Miss Venus, and I guarantee he’ll not only bend over backwardnotto let you down, he’ll also followyouto the ends of the earth.”
Her nose wrinkled in either disgust at him, or disgust that she hadn’t considered that as a potential solution, as she grabbed a third book to add to her stack. “Much as it pains me to admit it, that is actually rather good advice. It might be worth a try seeing as everything else so far has failed.”
“And so might this.” He shrugged. “As previously stipulated, I might know people, but I’ll concede my knowledge comes from dealing with people who can grow a beard.” He took the books from her and smiled at the thick Swift novel sitting on the top of the pile. “Good Lord, I’ve not seen this for years. I am so glad it’s in print over here, too. My mother used to readGulliver’s Travelsto me at bedtime when I was little. Over and over again because I refused to settle if she tried to read me another.” Gal couldn’t resist flicking through the pages to remind himself of the imaginary islands and people, his eyes focusing on the nonsense names he had giggled over as a boy—Lilliput, Glubbdubdrib, Brobdingnag, the Yahoos. “I loved the idea of strange worlds across the sea filled with stranger people. I even considered joining the navy back then so as I could travel the world like ol’ Gulliver did, but my ma was adamant no decent ship would take me on as their surgeon until I turned at least fifteen.”
While he chuckled at that forgotten but pleasant memory, her expression was wistful as she stared at the cover. “You’re lucky. I don’t remember my mother at all, she died when I was small, but I do rememberMinerva reading this book to me in our dingy rooms in Clerkenwell when I was little, too. I have the fondest memories of being magically transported to another place for a little while… a much better place where poverty and hardship didn’t exist and the world was filled with new adventures.” As if she were embarrassed to have admitted that much, she offered him an awkward shrug. “I believe my love of books began then—and probably all thanks to that fictional ship’s surgeon Gulliver.”
Gal nudged her with his elbow. “Don’t tell me we actually have something else in common to go alongside our talent for counting cards? And a book at that. When I was convinced you only read dry old texts like that unintelligible Shakespearean tragedy I liberated from you last night.”
“Much Adois a comedy and not a tragedy, Galahad, as well you know, and that sham naive act you put on no longer washes with me after last night’s sound drubbing, either.” Her expression was more amused than annoyed by that drubbing. “But in truth Shakespeare’s story and Gulliver’s are not that dissimilar.” Two copies ofRobinson Crusoefound their way onto the stack. “Both are shameless flights of fancy filled with intrigue, suspense, and feats of derring-do.”
“If you say so, Miss Venus.” He leaned against the bookshelf and enjoyed watching her stretch again for another volume, allowing his eyes to appreciate her momentarily in the full masculine sense while hers were looking elsewhere. His visual pleasure was short-lived, however. Not because she noticed and not because he forced himself to stop looking, but because he felt an odd whisper against his waistcoat.
The briefest graze, so light and subtle, he didn’t doubt most Mayfair gentlemen wouldn’t give it a passing thought, but not subtle enough for a streetwise fella like him not to notice.
Chapter Eight
It is official. The Merriwell sisters have run out of money. I am worried sick as to what will become of us if our landlord tosses us into the street as he has threatened. Please come home, Papa! We need you…
—from the diary of Miss Venus Merriwell, aged 17
“You need to be faster than that to rob me, Billy Tubbs.”
Vee blinked in shock at the sight of the wrist of the orphanage’s newest recruit trapped in Galahad’s grasp, his gold watch dangling from the nimble young pickpocket’s fingers like a noose.
Eyes wide, the rascal did the unthinkable. He used his full weight to stamp on Galahad’s foot while simultaneously jamming his bony elbow into his midriff, then bolted for the door still clutching the stolen watch as if his life depended on it.
“Billy!” To save both the boy and the watch, Vee hoisted up her skirts and gave chase. “Billy, no!” She knew already that the orphanage would never see the lad again unless she could catch him. He was a panicked, frightened, distrusting, and mostly feral boy. One she really should never have brought on an outing so soon, no matter how sorry she had felt for him. “Billy! Come back!”
But the boy didn’t even glance back, let alone slow.
She had barely reached Fortnum and Mason next door whenTommy streaked past her. “We’ll get him, Miss Merriwell!” Hot on his heels was Sydney, and the pair of them were quickly swallowed by the crowd of pedestrians, only their ginger heads visible as they jostled their way through.
Galahad caught up with her next, in time to witness all three boys disappear down a narrow side street, but by the time they reached it, there was no sign of any of them. Billy could have escaped down any one of the warrens of alleyways and streets ahead. As Galahad scanned them for any clues, she shook her head. “A needle in a haystack.”
Where Vee would have admitted defeat and anxiously waited outside the bookshop for the Claypoles to return, kicking herself for her own stupidity at losing a poor, lost boy who might have been saved given time, Galahad spun a slow circle, deep in thought. As he tapped his chin, she watched his eyes flicker as he pondered the options, nowhere near ready to give up. After what had to be half a minute he grabbed her hand and pointed. “If the reverend found him on Drury Lane, he’ll head there. That’s home. He’ll feel safer sticking to his usual hiding places than trusting somewhere unfamiliar.” With that he dragged her along Piccadilly and then right onto Haymarket in the direction of the theaters.
They were halfway down it when a panting Billy suddenly shot out of one of the back alleys, so panicked by the charging Claypoles on his tail that he failed to notice the adults to his left until Galahad sneaked up and caught him from behind, then held him firm.
“That was a mighty stupid thing to do.” He was surprisingly calm considering the scrawny, frightened child wiggling like an eel in his arms.
“I’m sure he is sorry, aren’t you, Billy?” As angry as she was at the boy both for the theft and for betraying her trust so abominably, she didn’t want his young life ruined because of one ill-considered mistake. “I am sure that if you give Mr. Sinclair his watch back, he won’t call a constable to arrest you.” In case that was exactly what Galahad had planned she stared beseeching, hoping he would take pity on the child despite his crime. “I am sure he won’t. He’s agoodman.” At least shewas coming to suspect that he was. “You made a mistake, that is all. We all do it. But it’s not the mistakes we make that matter in the end, it is what we learn from them and how we rectify them that’s the most important.” She reached out to rub the boy’s tense arm. “We can sort this mistake out betweenus, Billy, you’ll see… and once we do, we can get you back home to the safety of the orphanage where you belong.”
To her horror, Billy lifted his foot again, shod in the new boots she had personally issued him because he had arrived barefoot, and brought it down hard. Thankfully, Galahad had anticipated it and managed to dodge the heavy sole at the last moment without losing his hold on the wriggling boy at all.
“That was another damn stupid thing to do.” With Billy’s panicked feet still flailing around trying to find a suitable bone to kick, Galahad hoisted him into the air, hugging the child tight to prevent his elbows, hands, and nails from doing more damage to his person than they had already.
“Let go of me!” Billy was practically purple and so petrified her heart bled for him. “Let go of me now!”
“Not a chance!” With impressive strength his captor hauled Billy to the side of the street, twisted him to face him, then pinned the still-suspended boy with his back to the wall.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Despite the harsh tone, Galahad’s restraint impressed her. He had a firm grip on Billy but only enough to keep him tethered rather than hurt. “Do you honestly think the streets are a better place for you to be living than the orphanage?” He appeared more inquisitive than enraged and completely in control of the situation irrespective of how hard the child fought him. “In this freezing weather? The proceeds of my watch aren’t going to keep a roof over your head or food in your belly for long, idiot, any more than they will protect you from all the low-life criminals who make their livings fleecing little boys like you—or doing worse to them. Never mind how stupid it was to have stolen the dang thing in the first place in broad daylight. In Mayfair, no less, where there’s one of those new uniformedbobbies patrolling every corner? Or is it your lifelong ambition to be transported to the Antipodes for a lifetime of hard labor?” Not at all the speech Vee expected him to make when he had been robbed and assaulted in quick succession.
