AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Hart was alone, isolated by his elevation, and no one seemed to understand anything about him, no one except a very suspicious young widow from the wilds of Cheshire.
He stepped toward the shadow of an alleyway, and glanced down the gray length. A boy stood at the other end. He watched Hart without fear and didn't move when Hart stepped onto the wet stones. Instead, he crossed his arms and raised his chin a little higher.
He was too small to be the thief from the other night, but that didn't mean he wasn't some sort of criminal.
"You need sumpin'?" a wary voice demanded when Hart continued to approach.
"Maybe." He stopped about ten feet from the child. "Why?"
"I don't hire myself out if that's what ye're after."
"Good God, no." He was sure he'd never been accused of the like. Hart shook his head. "Who do you work for?"
The chin rose again. "No one."
Hart glanced behind to be sure no one was sneaking up to crack open his skull. "Well, you're clearly selling something. What is it then?"
"You're clearly buying. What is it?"
An involuntary laugh choked Hart for a moment. Perhaps this boy had been trained by Lady Denmore in obstinance. "I need information," he finally conceded. The stubborn face brightened.
"Why, that's my specialty, guv."
"Mm." Hart studied him, all bright eyes and scrawny limbs. His gloves were shiny with black grime and his coat was smeared with it. The local coal picker? The boot black she had spoken of?
Well, he likely couldn't do much harm. "I saw a thief the other night, near Lady Denmore's door. Do you know who she is?"
"Course."
"Do you know who the thief was?" A quick shake of his head.
"Well, I'd like to find out. I want to know if he comes back and what he's about. How much?"
The bright eyes narrowed. "A quid."
"A quid." Hart looked him up and down again before he dug into his pocket for two coins. "I may be fine and shiny, boy, but I'm no fool. A quid is far too much." The child's mouth fell open when Hart opened his hand. "Two quid, but that buys your dedication. I expect absolute loyalty, you understand? Will two pounds buy that?"
"Yes, sir."
"You're not to work for that thief or anyone else. If you see him again, you send a message. I want to encourage him to move on. At the least, find out who he is, who's working the area. Do you think you can do that?"
"I can."
"Well, then." Hart handed over the coins. "I'm Somerhart."
"Stimp," the boy replied, either some sort of agreement or his name. Hard to say.
"I'll be back tomorrow, but I'm on Grosvenor Street if you need me this evening."
"Right. Best get to work then, sir." The boy was walking away, one coin caught tight between his teeth, before Hart could say a word.
* * *
The pungent fragrance of incense hung over Matthew Bromley's head, then it wound around him, offering a strange, exciting mix of comfort and guilt. He bowed his head and prayed along with the rest of the small congregation, but long after they'd all risen and filed out, he stayed.
God would bring her back to him. If he prayed hard enough, sacrificed enough, she would be returned. He di
d not want her for selfish reasons, after all. The woman had led him astray, and Matthew meant to see both their souls saved from eternal damnation. Marriage, piety, grace; what more noble wish for a man?
