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Her cheeks were warm with spots of pink when she put a hand to his chest. “It seems the brawl has passed.”
He shot a look sideways. The men had moved on without him even noticing. Some protector he was.
“Come, we should get you home.”
She shook her head and stepped out of the alleyway. “I still need to find this company.”
“It could take forever, Cassie.”
And he did not have forever. If he stayed around her much longer, his vows to Anton were going to tumble into the murky waters of the Thames. He’d be damned if he betrayed his friend. If what Aunt Sarah said was correct, Cassie had her future mapped out for her, and he’d rather hang than interfere with that.
“Cassie—” He reached for her but she marched on, skirting several men who paused their card game to watch her pass.
“You do not have to stay,” she called over her shoulder.
Luke pinched the bridge of his nose and hastened after her. The crowds thickened with the arrival of a new ship and he had to push his way through to keep up with her, finding that the crowds naturally parted for the elegant young woman and immediately closed ranks after.
“Cassie,” he called after her. “Damn it, Cassie.” She paused, frowning, and swiveled on her heels. “Cassie?”
He moved swiftly to keep up with her pace. He had little idea what had caught her attention until she snatched the collar of a boy.
“Here, leave me be,” the boy protested, fighting to free himself from her grip.
“What’s going on?” he demanded as she dragged the struggling boy from the crowds.
“Will you tell him or shall I?”
The boy had to be no more than twelve years of age and malnutrition had left him scrawny and unable to pry her fingers from his collar. His clothes were filthy and oversized, likely gifted or stolen from an adult. He glanced between Luke and Cassie before sagging against her hold and stuffing his fingers into his jacket pocket. He drew out a pocket watch.
Luke’s pocket watch.
He snatched it from the boy. “When the devil did you take that?”
“I saw him slip his fingers in your pocket back there.” She jerked her head toward the crowds.
Luke eyed her. He hadn’t felt a thing. How on earth had she spotted the thief? He stuffed the watch back into his pocket then took the struggling lad in hand. “Be grateful I’m not handing you to the bailiff.”
“Your lady has witch eyes,” he muttered. “No one spots me.”
“Say that word again and I shall be sorely tempted to hand you over.” Luke pushed him back, sending the boy staggering. “Now be on your way and cease your trouble making.”
Cassie put her hands to her hips and eyed him. “You put coin in his pocket.”
He shrugged. “The boy might be right about you.”
“I am merely observant. But why did you do that? He tried to take your watch.”
“He’s starving and desperate.”
“And a thief.”
“The world is not always right and wrong, Cassie.”
Her brows furrowed. “Funny, I suspect Anton would say different.”
“There are many more sinister characters around the docks. He was most certainly not the worst of them.”
He glanced around her at a fellow he’d noticed before. The man had a distinctive limp but kept his face covered with a large floppy brimmed hat. Those sorts worried him more than a skinny boy picking pockets.
