Love Between the Lines (22 page)

“
Hardly. But he might know more than he’s said about Miss Miles and her connection to that house.” She pointed at another description. “That one sounds as if it could be Lord Maxwell.”

Gideon nodded.
“He’s just the sort to visit a house like that.”

“
You sound rather scornful. Don’t you use a house like that? Or do you have a mistress?”

He co
uldn’t help laughing. Oyster turned from the window, and he and Lizzy wore puzzled frowns.

Gideon
explained, “Not every gentleman in the world employs women in that capacity.”

“
No?” Lizzy looked thoughtful. “Perhaps not all of the married ones.”

Oyster
’s upper lip curled slightly as if he smelled something unpleasant. “Says you,” he muttered at Gideon.

“
Good Lord.” Gideon looked from one to the other. “Do you honestly believe that men always pay for female companionship?”

“
Many of the ones I’ve met.” Lizzy gently extracted the papers from his hand and shoved them into her bag. “It’s the way of the world.”

“
You’ve lived too long in an unpleasant world,” he said with a rush of pity.

“
You’ll stay faithful to your wife?” she asked, a world of disbelief in her voice.

“
Of course.”

“
Ha,” she said softly, and she glanced at his mouth.

Gideon
recalled that kiss and the appetite that stirred when they met. And even as he thought of the kiss, the hunger returned.

“
Yes. I will stay faithful to my wife.” He walked away then, and of course, they followed.

They stopped at a corner to wait for traffic to pass.
Lizzy spoke. “That note. Perhaps it was sent by someone at the house or one of the gentlemen who go to them. But why send it to me?”

Gideon was relieved and only slightly disappointed to have the subject changed.

“Perhaps your reputation precedes you?” he suggested.

Lizzy laughed
. “In New York, I might believe it.” She twisted to look over her shoulder at Oyster. “What do you think?”

“
That other thug. The fourth one in New York.”

Gid
eon had heard the story. The New York—London connection would sell papers, but he didn’t believe it. “No, I don’t think that’s possible. He would have had to have sailed about the same time we did.”

They crossed the street, trotting to get out of the way of an oncoming hansom
.

Lizzy said,
“Oyster, you think the fourth thug is the one sending the notes?”

“
Naw, why would he do that? It’s someone who read those Blue-Eyed Prey stories you wrote.”

They
fell silent as they walked in silence across the gloomy crowded street, past the organ-grinder, who must have been deaf because his instrument let out the occasional dreadful wail. Gideon caught Lizzy’s eye and after a particularly mournful wail in the middle of a song she winced and grinned at him. He couldn’t help grinning back.

This was pleasant, he thought as they walked. Getting out of the office, thinking about possible stories, letting his heart beat a little faster than usual.
He enjoyed strolling with Lizzy in her blue walking gown and surprisingly fashionable straw hat. Too bad Oyster seemed determined to block his view of her.

Protecting her from Gideon, he supposed
, and the thought lowered his spirits. Especially because he understood Oyster was acting as a good and loyal friend.

Oyster gave a half-head tilt to Lizzy, their signal for
go in front
. She knew he wanted to ask about extra work. She raised a hand in acknowledgment and walked ahead, out of earshot. She was perhaps twenty yards ahead when someone tapped her shoulder.

“
You Trudy Tildon?” A squat man with gray muttonchops squinted at her from below a too large flat cap that shadowed most of his face.

She backed away and felt for her truncheon.
“Yes, I am,” she said. “May I help you?”

“
Got a message for you,” he said and grabbed her arm. She tried to yank away for a moment, then changed her mind about raising a huge hullabaloo. She was curious, and Oyster was close by to protect her if need be.

She looked over her shoulder. Oyster was talking
, but Sir Gideon must have seen, because he’d already broken into a trot, his face drawn into an angry frown. Good.

“
What do you want?” she asked as the man marched her around the corner into a small alleyway. She pulled and struggled just enough so she could face the mouth of the alleyway and watch for her rescuers.

The man
snarled at her. “Don’t fight me, girlie.”

He didn
’t seem to be grabbing at her with lascivious intentions, so she relaxed again.

“
Yes, all right. I won’t fight,” she soothed. “Just tell me what you want.”

“
I got a message for you. Look at the brother,” the man said. “No, hang it, I mean the brother-in-law. He’s behind it all.” He still clutched her wrist.

She caught
Sir Gideon’s eye over the man’s shoulder and gave a tiny shake of the head.
Not yet.
The baronet looked ready to breathe fire, but she had more important matters to attend to at the moment. She turned her attention back to the man who held her in a painful grip. Easy enough to cringe and grovel to show she knew he had the better of her. “I’d be glad to obey, sir, but I don’t understand. Who sent you?”

“
I told you, look at the brother-in-law.”

“
But I don’t have one, so how can I?”

“
Your boss’s brother-in-law. Didn’t I say that? That was the message.”

Her boss
’s brother-in-law. “That’s all? What am I supposed to look at him for?”

“
How the hell do I know? I gave you the damned message.” He raised his hand; perhaps he would attempt to hit her.

She
pulled away. If he was going to get violent, she’d have to give Oyster the signal for help, but first she’d try another tactic. “Who gave you that message? I’ll pay you twice what he gave you to give me a description.”

He leered at her and moved in close.
“Will you, lady? That much?”

She flinched away from his terrible breath. A moment later, a figure hurtled down on them both
, knocking the big man over.

Fear nauseated Gideon. He’d been in a few dangerous situations in his life and had been assaulted more than once. But when the gray-haired baboon had grabbed Lizzy, he’d been filled with raw fear—an emotion quickly replaced by the need to commit murder.

“
No,” he shouted. No one but Oyster noticed his agitation.

Oyster
gave a low whistle. “She’s making friends here, is she?” He sounded amused. “I earn my keep.”

He trotted after Gideon and touched his shoulder.
“Here now, sir, slow down. Don’t want to frighten him.”

“
Jesus, he’s got her.”

“
We’ll keep an eye out.”

The man
hauled her out of sight into an alley, and Oyster sped up at last. He seemed to be enjoying himself hugely, the bastard.

“
Come on.” Oyster stopped at the edge of the building on the corner, then carefully looked around into the alley. “Just there,” he said in a low voice. “See? Behind them crates? She can see us. He’s got his back to us, the fool. Not such a professional.”

But just then, the man shifted to the side and Gide
on saw he wore a look of utter greed.

Gideon tried to push
Oyster to get at the brute in the cap, but Oyster stopped him by grabbing his collar and whispering. “She ain’t given the signal yet. Wait for it.”

A second
later, the man raised his hand to strike her, and that was too much.

Gideon
wasn’t waiting for the actual blow. He ran out and tackled the man at the knees. They both crumpled to the ground. With a howl, the man scrambled away, got to his feet, and took off.

Oyster went after him.

Lizzy was brushing off her skirt. She gave Gideon a nod as if they had just met on the street.

“
This idiot just spouted messages as baffling as any words out of Miss Miles’s mouth. And you ran him off before I could get anything useful out of him.”

Oyster
strolled around the corner, hauling the groaning man in front of him. “My knee’s better,” Oyster said cheerfully.

“
Police,” Gideon said, not quite able to speak properly yet. He kept a police whistle on his fob and pulled it from his pocket. Lizzy put a hand out to stop him.

“
Not until I understand what this is about.” She cocked her head and looked at the man. She smiled.

Gideon wanted to howl and clutch Lizzy to him, stroke her curls and tell her everything would be all right. Except
, he was in need of comfort, not she. She and Oyster looked as cool as if they were attacked every day of the week. Perhaps they were.

She turned to the man who
’d assaulted her. “You think about my offer of money?”

Money? She offered money to this animal who looked at her as if she was food? The man who almost struck her?
“Are you serious, Miss Tildon? Money?” Gideon asked. Damn. His voice cracked.

The ruffian ducked
and wiggled—and managed to pull away from Oyster. Gideon reached out a foot and tripped him. Cursing, Oyster grabbed the man’s collar and hauled him to his feet again.

Lizzy watched, arms folded
. “I’ve found that threats and violence rarely provide reliable information; however, this man is annoying enough I’m willing to try that method.” She shifted on her heel and leaned close to the gray-haired man. “Do you understand me, Mr…?”

“
Smith.” The man gasped as Oyster’s grip tightened and his shoulders went up.

“
See?” Lizzy waved a hand. “Smith. And he has no imagination in his lies.”

Her calm air had slightly reassured Gideon—he should have known she would be fine even if he wasn
’t—and he could almost think clearly again. Something clicked in his memory. “Jimmy Smith,” he said. “Breaking and entering a few years back. Must have been five years ago. You broke in while the man was holding a party. He asked for leniency on your behalf, for some reason. Is he the one who hired you?”

“
No.” Smith gasped as Oyster shifted again. “No, not him. I don’t know who. I got the money. Left waistcoat pocket. I swear that’s all, and you can have it. I shoulda just delivered the message and walked off, but I thought I’d add a little style.” He groaned. “That’s what happens when you try to get elaborate.”

Liz
zy reached for the man to search his pockets, but Gideon pushed her aside. Smith had managed to get away twice, and God alone knew what the man would do to Lizzy in order to make another attempt.

Gideon
searched Smith and found two guineas, a scrap of paper, a folded pocketknife, a revolver that looked as if it had been dug up from the ground, and some ripped-up betting slips.

The paper had
Trudy Tildon’s name and work address.

“
I can’t see,” Lizzy complained.

Gideon
realized his hand holding the note shook. He gave it to her and shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to get a grip on his emotion. “I can’t stand it,” he said to no one in particular.

The man struggled and then yelped when Oyster
tightened his grip on his arm and pulled it higher.

“
What can’t you stand, Sir Gideon?” Lizzy said absently. She was busy examining the note, holding it up. Her hand wasn’t shaking. “That’s the same writing as before.”

Before
?
She’d been attacked before? “How often does she get attacked?”

“
Not so often as you’d think.” Oyster grunted as Smith began trying to drive his elbows into his belly. “Here, you, stop it.”

Smith didn
’t, and Oyster gave him a tap on the side of the head. “Oy,” Smith said. “No need to get so rough.”

A rush of rage filled Gideon. This fool had thought to hurt Lizzy and now was complaining?

“Maybe it’s time to call the police,” Gideon growled.

“
I can handle a no-account shrimp like this guy.”

Gideon opened
the knife and moved in so he was inches from Smith. “Yes, I know. Perhaps we should worry about protecting him. I’m close to using this on this fool. I’d hate to lose my good name.” He could smell the gin on Smith’s breath. “I’m serious. Jimmy, my lad. Who gave you that note? How’d you get it? What did they pay you? The two guineas in your pocket?”

Smith cowered. Behind him, Oyster grinned so wide the gaps in his
back teeth showed.

For once
, Lizzy remained silent.

Jimmy peered at Gideon.
“I know you, Sir Gideon. You said it yerself. You wouldn’t risk your reputation. You wanna be a gentleman.”

“
It wouldn’t be a risk if you died, Smith. No one would link you to me, would they?” He met the man’s rheumy gray eyes and let him see the truth. At that moment, Gideon was capable of killing him.

“
I don’t know,” Jimmy Smith wailed. “I don’t know. Yes, that’s where the guineas came from, some well-dressed man.”

“
Describe him.”

“
It was dark. And late. And I was the worse for drink. He gave me two pounds to deliver the message.”

Jimmy flinched away from the
flat of the knife that Gideon pressed to his cheek. A dull knife, Gideon noticed with detachment. “Would you have used this on Miss Tildon?” he asked.

“
No!”

“
Describe the man who gave you the message.”

“
I think fair hair, but he was wearing a hat.” Jimmy spoke rapidly. “And a cape, so I don’t know if he was fat or thin. Middle height. He had a cold and a funny accent.”

“
Foreign?”

“
Maybe, like French, but it changed when he talked. I think it was put on. You know, like a disguise.”

Gideon eased the pressure from his cheek but still held the knife in place, the point against his skin
now. “Young? Old?”

“
I don’t know. Middle.” His eyes shifted up and then away.

“
Didn’t you catch sight of his face? Fair or dark?”

“
F-fair. He was in the shadows. It was the Pig and Lion. I told you it’s dark there. Darker at night.”

“
How did he know to find you?”

“
I don’t know!” Jimmy sounded on the edge of tears. “I think your big man has dislocated my shoulder.”

“
No, I haven’t,” Oyster said. He shook his head at Gideon. “Your baddies over here aren’t worth spit. Weak and whining.”

“
I’m cooperating, Sir Gideon, truly I am.” If Jimmy had still been wearing the hideous gray cap, no doubt he’d doff it or at least tug on it.

“
All right, you keep talking, and Mr. Oyster will release his grip on you.”

Oyster let go,
and Smith stumbled a little.

Lizzy asked,
“The man who gave you the message, did he say anything at all about other women? Or a house of ill repute? Or a murder?”

Smith shrugged an
d examined a scrape on his wrist. “He didn’t say nothing about that sort of house. You gonna still pay me extra? You hurt me. See?”

Gideon moved closer to her. He wanted to speak quietly. No, that wasn
’t the real reason. He needed to touch Lizzy again—to get as close as possible to her and reassure himself she was all right. “You seem to think there’s a connection between this idiot and the story you’re writing? Why is that?” he whispered.

“
I only suspect there might be,” she murmured, her breath warm on his ear. “The handwriting is the same as on the note about Miss Miles. The writer has a distinctive way of making an M.”

That
was what she’d meant by
“it was the same.”