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No. She wasn’t their kind at all.
What the hell was she doing in the rookeries? In London?
“How did she get here?”
“Egbert said she just appeared at the front door. He tried to get her up to Madame Juliet, but she fought him and then demanded to see ye.”
Strider nodded, his look not veering from Pen sitting in the room.
Jasper finished his brandy. “Oh, and the gents downstairs are already asking for a turn with the lass.”
Strider’s teeth clamped down so hard and fast he bit the corner of his tongue. Of course they were. She was bloody well gorgeous. She always had been and the drabbest dress in the world wouldn’t change that. Innocence and beauty made every blasted man want to touch it.
The metallic tinge of blood spread across his taste buds and he yanked his stare away from her, snapping the flap on the peep-hole closed. He looked at Jasper. “Spread the word that she’s already gone from the building.”
“Yes, sir.” Jasper nodded but didn’t move away from the bookcase.
“And?”
Jasper’s head cocked toward the drawing room. “What should we do with her?”
“Nothing.” Strider moved past him, his long legs stalking toward the door. “I’ll take care of her.”
“She’s not really yer sister, is she?” Jasper asked him as he exited the room.
Strider didn’t turn back to him. “I don’t have a sister.”
In the next moment he was charging into the drawing room, not bothering to pause and compose himself.
He slammed the door closed, advancing on her. “What the hell are you doing here, Pen?”
She jumped in her seat at the crack of the door and her look whipped up at him, her neck craning at his height.
For a moment, confusion in her eyes.
She didn’t recognize him.
And why should she? She hadn’t seen him since they were fifteen. He’d grown another foot, doubled in mass, his hair had darkened, and he’d been hardened by the worst in humanity in those ensuing years.
The confusion disappeared the instant her eyes met his. She found him. Found the boy she remembered.
She sprang up onto her feet. “Strider, it is you. I hoped, but I was afraid it wouldn’t be you and then I got here and—”
“What the bloody deuce are you doing here in London, Pen? In a damnable gaming hell?”
She blinked hard. “This is where you are so I came to see you.”
“Why would you ever think coming into the rookeries in the middle of the night was a good idea?” Damn, but she was too bloody innocent. Even now. He needed to get her out of there, out of the rookeries. Far away from him. The faster the better.
“I didn’t think it was a good idea, but I didn’t know it would be this bad.” Her lips pursed. “I didn’t know what this area was. We just arrived in London and—”
“Who is we?” His gut twisted, vicious. She had a damn husband. Why else would she be in London?
Her head gave a slight shake. “What?”
The air choking in his throat, he leaned over her, a grimace lining his lips. “Who is we?”
“We? Mrs. Flagton and her son. Mr. Flagton died several months ago and they needed to travel to London to take care of his affairs.”
