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“You’re talking funny again,” Tommy muttered.
“It’s called a brogue, as ye well know.”
“Still sounds funny, if you ask me.”
Graeme snorted. When Tommy was excited or upset, his cant grew as thick as the brogue that emerged from Graeme when he was frustrated or angry. These days, that brogue surfaced more than he liked.
Then again, anger and frustration were better than rampant boredom. Better to be up to his eyeballs in danger and mayhem than sitting about like a useless ninny, bored out of his skull.
Or, worse, getting dragged totonparties by Lady Vivien, who said he needed asocial lifeto cheer him up.
“Nothing to be cheery about, anyway,” he muttered.
Tommy threw him an odd look, which Graeme ignored, too tired to explain. It had been weeks since he’d had a good night’s rest. Maybe Vivien was right. Maybe hewasworking too hard.
His companion jabbed him. “He’s on the move.”
Graeme unbent from his crouch. “Looks like he’s heading straight along the footpath to Piccadilly. See if you can get ahead of him, in case he changes course and cuts up to one of the other gates.”
Tommy nodded, but before he could dart off, Graeme clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Donotget close to him. He’ll be armed, and Aden will skin me alive if anything happens to you.”
The lad huffed with derision. “I ain’t a flat, guv. I’ve been doing this longer than you have.”
“I’mnota flat,” Graeme absently corrected as the boy ghosted off into the mist and drizzle.
But Tommy was correct. He’d been a trusted part of the St. George household for four years now, running errands and delivering important messages. Still, he was more a member of the family than an errand boy or even an agent in training, and Graeme would cut off his own arm before he saw the lad placed in danger.
Before he sawanychild placed in danger. He’d been stupid enough to allow that to happen once before, and . . .
He impatiently shook the gruesome image from his mind and slipped out from behind the tree. Following the path, he kept a respectable distance from the thief while doing his best to adopt the attitude of a local out for a leisurely morning stroll. Ridiculous, given the weather, but since the barmy bastard was all but creeping along the path, Graeme couldn’t exactly set a brisk pace. The fellow was either up to something or suspected he was being followed.
If the latter, then Graeme had to be ready for the man to bolt.
When the thief slipped behind yet another bush and froze, Graeme realized his quarry was behaving like one of the barn cats at Castle Kinglas stalking a mouse. Moving deliberately closer to his target, exercising care not to be seen.
But who—
Graeme had his answer a moment later, when the man darted across a narrow strip of lawn that ran along the bank of the Serpentine. A figure was lingering by the water, a woman swathed in a dark cloak, a deep-brimmed bonnet serving as protection against the rain. Her back to them, she peered toward the footpath that led up to Grosvenor Gate, oblivious to her surroundings and absently swinging a plump-looking reticule. It didn’t take a genius to realize what would happen next.
Mentally cursing, Graeme took off at a run. He’d be damned if he let a woman be robbed, even if it meant blowing his cover. And why thehellhadn’t he noticed her before? What in God’s name was she doing here, anyway?
He closed the distance, but his thief was too far ahead.
“Lass, behind you,” Graeme yelled at the top of his lungs.
The woman spun around, only to be seized by the thief.
Graeme spotted Tommy running in from the other direction. He threw out an arm to warn him off, but the lad ignored him, veering around a stand of oaks as he neared the couple.
The lady wasn’t giving up without a fight, struggling mightily to keep ahold of her reticule.
“Let go of ’er, you stinkin’ napper,” Tommy yelled.
When the thief threw a startled glance at the boy, the woman kicked her assailant in the shin.
It only encouraged the bastard to redouble his efforts. He yanked the reticule from her grip, then tossed a glance over his shoulder at Graeme before grabbing the woman by the arms and dragging her to the very lip of the embankment. Then he shoved her over the edge.
The woman desperately windmilled her arms before toppling into the Serpentine with a resounding splash.
