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“Go home. Now. Stay there until I get back. I have to go and see someone and then I am comin’ home myself. If anyone asks, you ain’t seen nor heard nothin’,” he ordered. “You don’t know where I have gone. You don’t know when I will be back.”
When the young girl still didn’t budge, the man drew her into the street and then nudged her in the direction of home. When she finally began to make her way through the crowds, he waited until she was almost out of sight and then followed her. Minutes later he watched the front door of the squalid flat they shared with their mother close behind her and heaved a sigh of relief that at least one problem had been dealt with.
The second burning problem now lay within the small pouch he had slung across his body. Frowning down at it, for the second time that night he melted into the shadows to study his surroundings. Once he was assured the route was clear, he crept into the small, derelict storage yard perfect for his purposes. He knew it had been abandoned many years ago. Nobody had been anywhere near it for a decade at least by his reckoning. It was perfect and, although he had to wade his way through the thicket, he eventually found the place he needed.
Tucking his precious pouch out of sight, he covered it over with rocks and carefully covered his tracks before he made his way back onto the litter-strewn street.
Relieved to have his future secured now, and the damning evidence of his deceit off his hands, Victor straightened his jacket, tucked his gloves back into his pocket, and went in search of his boss. Now all he had to do was hand the goods over to Sayers. Then he could figure out a way to get out of Town, preferably before Sayers read in the broadsheets exactly how much Victor had stolen.
One thing was for certain now; he needed to vanish, and quickly.
CHAPTER ONE
Tahlia dropped the broadsheet onto the bedcovers beside her and yawned as she stretched. The headlines reminded her of how miserable life in London could be. She was glad she lived miles away, in Rutland. To read snippets about everybody’s lives the occupants of the big city deemed important made her realise just how far removed from it all she had become. For that, she could only be extremely grateful.
“I hate London,” she muttered aloud as she glared accusingly at the broadsheet.
“Pardon, ma’am?” Cecily called as she awkwardly manoeuvred a heavy tray into the room.
“I want to go home,” Tahlia whined.
She shared a dour look with her maid and watched Cecily huff and puff as she slid her heavy burden onto the small table before the fire.
“Breakfast for you, ma’am,” Cecily informed her breathlessly.
“I told you not to bring my breakfast up here,” Tahlia scolded gently. “The stairs are too steep. I am perfectly capable of coming downstairs to eat. This house is too big for you to be carting things upstairs for me.”
“But I am in a routine now, and don’t mind one bit.” Uncharacteristically, she grinned at her mistress. “Besides, the exercise does me good.”
Dawn had only just started to creep over the horizon. It was still essentially dark outside, but Cecily began to throw open the shutters anyway.
Tahlia studied her breakfast with keen disinterest. Since the moment she had left Rutland four days ago her appetite had starte
d to wane. Now, it was practically non-existent, and she suspected it would remain that way until she returned home where she belonged.
Her heavy sigh of discontent drew Cecily’s worried look.
“How long do we have to be here for?” Tahlia mused as she dropped her untouched toast back onto the plate in disgust.
“For as long as it takes you to meet the people you need to see, decide which items of your uncles you want to keep, and put this house up for sale, that’s all,” Cecily replied in a placating tone which did little to ease Tahlia’s discontent.
“I must hurry with it then.”
“Did you not sleep very well last night, ma’am?” Cecily asked with a kindly smile.
Tahlia shook her head. “I fell asleep about a couple of hours ago, I think,” she replied grumpily. “It is too noisy here. There is hardly enough peace to allow oneself to think. My room is freezing, nothing is ever quiet, and this house is too big.”
Cecily nodded in understanding and began to make the bed. “But you are not moaning, though, so that is good.”
Tahlia wrinkled her nose at her but couldn’t argue. She was moaning. Discontentment was something she was completely unfamiliar with, and it made her even more miserable. Since leaving for Rutland, Tahlia’s life was considerably more perfect than she had ever expected it could be. She wanted to get back to it. She knew she wouldn’t return to her usual affable self until she was back at home where she belonged.
“I will get dressed,” she announced for want of something else to do to ease her misery.
“Come in,” she called when there was a discrete knock on the door.
“A package has arrived for you,” Oscar, the butler, announced with a curious frown.
Tahlia glanced briefly out of the window. “But it is only dawn. Who can be delivering things at this time of day?”
