Tangled Webs (13 page)

Arista snorted. “Someplace that is
not
a brothel. Nothing fancy, but it has to be safe. And we need food. Enough for Becky and I to live on, though like I said, we require nothing
fancy.”

Wild puffed in a breath of smoke and exhaled slowly. “Anything else?”

She hesitated. Her next request wasn’t as simple as providing food. “I need to be sure that Becky is safe. Always. That no one has the opportunity to hurt her again. If something
happens to me, I need assurance that she will be taken care of. If you can’t do this, I will not help you.”

“She must mean a great deal to you,” he said.

She thought she saw something flicker in his eyes, but in the darkness she could not know for sure. “I made her a promise. Do we have an agreement?” she asked briskly.

He dropped the cheroot and ground it under the heel of his boot. He looked thoughtful, then smiled. “Agreed. So, now that we have your needs taken care of, let’s discuss our mutual
business agreement.” Wild moved closer, and Arista could finally see all of his face.

Today he wore a tailored jacket and matching trousers, and looked every part the aristocrat. His casual demeanor almost made her forget that, underneath the costly clothes, he was lethal. He had
the power to ruin anyone, rich or poor. Even the notorious Lady A could be taken down by him. Their arrangement was not without risk.

“Where would you like to start?” she asked.

“I don’t suppose you have access to the secrets you traded in?” he asked drolly. “That would make things a lot easier.” His tone may have been nonchalant, but
Arista noticed the slight tightening of his lips, the way he unconsciously flexed his right hand. He wanted that information desperately. But if he thought she had that information, he’d be
sorely disappointed.

“I was only the messenger.” It was a half truth. The night he kissed her, Nic
had
told her where Bones hid the secrets, the money. But were they anything beyond ashes now?
Maybe she could sneak away and check. It would give her additional leverage should Wild try and renege on their deal. “I’m not interested in becoming one of your lackeys, either. I want
no part in your thievery operation.”

“Of course not. This is an entirely separate matter. You are Lady A. We only need your reputation to continue doing business. I will simply make sure that those in need of your services
have a way of contacting you. And of course, our alliance will be kept between ourselves.”

There was a hint of warning in his tone. Arista nodded. “It would not benefit Lady A’s reputation if it were thought she was working with the Thief Taker General, either. So as far
as
le bon ton
are concerned, nothing has changed with Lady A’s services.”

Wild nodded. “Then we are both in agreement that this arrangement stays quiet. Good.” He took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. Without gloves, the touch was far too
intimate for her liking. A voice interrupted them and she withdrew her hand.

“Excuse me, sir, but Lord Whitley is at it again. He refuses to leave again this morning.” Light poured out from the open kitchen door, and Arista saw the silhouette of Cecily.

Wild scowled. “I’ve warned him for the last time. I’ll be right there.” He stalked toward the door and turned on the threshold. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll send a
carriage to take you to your new home. Be ready.”

He left her there in the garden, the protest falling from her tongue unheard. Tomorrow. That seemed so…soon. Arista stood for several more minutes, unable to make her legs move.
Exhaustion washed over her and she had to sit for a few minutes. Though she’d had days of rest already, weakness filled her limbs. She would never be able to sneak out later that night if she
didn’t rest first. And she had to return to her old home, just once, before it became impossible.

Reluctantly, Arista made her way back inside and to her room. She crawled under the quilt and watched the sky grow lighter outside her window. By the time sunlight filtered through the lace
curtains, Arista had fallen asleep.

“Miss.” Becky’s soft voice broke through the haze of sleep.

Arista opened her eyes and blinked.

“Are you feeling better, miss?” Becky held up a lantern and a soft glow illuminated the room. Outside the window, the sky was dark.

Arista sat up and shoved the quilt off her body. “What time is it?” she demanded. Her heartbeat thundered against her ribs. Was it too late? How could she have slept the entire
day?

“It’s just past midnight, miss.”

“I don’t have much time.” Arista slid out of bed and smoothed down her wrinkled dress. Her dress. She needed something more appropriate to go walking about at night in her old
neighborhood. Her knife skills would not be enough. There had to be trousers somewhere; this
was
a brothel, after all.

Without a word to Becky, Arista flung open the door and made her way back down the servants’ stairs. She stepped into the kitchen, through a rush of warm air, and cleared her throat. None
of the kitchen girls even looked up from their tasks.

“Can someone tell me where the laundry is done?” Arista asked in her very best Lady A accent. When one of the girls looked up, Arista crossed her arms across her chest and glared
down at them. She tapped her foot impatiently.

“Across the hall to the right, miss.” The girl couldn’t be any older than Arista, but fatigue was written all over her sweaty face. It made her look as old as Bones. Her hands
were red and chapped from her duties.

“Thank you.” Arista dropped the fake accent and left the room.

No one saw her, and she slipped into the laundry room easily. Huge tubs lined one wall, and the sharp scent of lye filled the air, burning her lungs. A rope was strung from one corner to the
other, and clothes were pinned along it.

It took no time at all to find a shirt, jacket, and trousers that looked about the right size. All were rough and patched, probably belonging to the stable boy. She’d never been
comfortable stealing, much less from someone in her own situation, so she made a silent pledge to put them back as soon as she returned.

The stairwell was dark and empty and Arista hurried up it. She pushed through the door and immediately stopped. In her haste to get back to her room, she’d exited on the wrong floor. These
were the working rooms. Before she could duck back inside the stairwell, a door opened just three away from her.

“A pleasure as always, my dear.” The man’s words were slurred, and he stumbled as he backed out the door. A throaty giggle followed his retreat. The door closed and the man
straightened, put his hat on his head, and tapped it into place, though it still sat very crookedly.

Arista didn’t dare move.
Go the other way.

He turned, as if he’d heard her thoughts, and walked right toward her.

“Well, what do we have here? You’re a new one—I haven’t seen you before.” The man’s eyes widened and then narrowed as he focused on her. He took several
stumbling steps down the hall. Arista backed up, the stolen clothes clutched to her chest. She didn’t miss the way he leered at her. Bile rose in her throat.
Run.
The command from her
brain would not reach her frozen feet. She smelled the bourbon on his breath before he stopped in front of her. Without the benefit of either of her disguises, the boy or Lady A, Arista felt naked.
Powerless. Her mind would not work at all.

“My, you’re a pretty one. Where have you been hiding?” He ran a finger down her cheek and Arista pursed her lips tightly together. Still holding the clothes with one hand, she
reached down with her other hand and inched the fabric of her dress up.

She needed her knife.

He must have sensed her movements, because a wide grin curled his mouth. “Eager, are you?” He leaned into her, pressing himself along the length of her body with only the rough cloth
between them. His hot breath washed over her ear. “I like that.” He reached down and covered her hand with his, easing her skirt up more. The weight of his body pressed her harder
against the door, and she couldn’t move. There was no room to lift her knee or drive her fist into his nose. Nothing Nic had taught her would work now.

One of the man’s fingers trailed along her leg. Arista bit down on her lip so hard that she tasted blood. A vise tightened around her wrist and he held her hand firmly at her waist, her
entire leg now exposed. She could not beat him with physical strength.

With a soft sigh, Arista forced her body to go limp. He wasn’t expecting that, and lost his grip and balance at the same time. Drunks were unpredictable, except when it came to
coordination. Arista had the tip of her blade pressed against his temple before he could blink.
Arista
, perhaps, wasn’t experienced at dealing with men like him, but Lady A was.
Something inside of her shifted. The debilitating fear was gone now.

“Leave now or I’ll sink this blade right through your skull,” she hissed. Becky would be proud of how cultured Arista sounded.

“What the hell are you doing? Do you know who I am? I practically funded this entire place.
I own you, whore.
” The man reared back, but his glance flicked to the knife and he
hesitated.

This
situation she could control.

“They tell me that I like to play with knives a little too much,” she said softly, running the blade down his cheek until it stopped, right on the throbbing pulse in his neck.
“But some men like that.” The man swallowed loudly. “Do you still want to play with me, my lord?” Arista pushed the blade against the man’s soft middle and he
blanched. Men like him liked to pretend they owned the world, but underneath they were cowards. Especially when confronted with their own mortality.

“You’re crazy,” he spat. Hatred blazed from his bloodshot eyes.

“So I’ve been told,” she answered with a cold smile. “Now get away from me.”

The man stumbled back a few feet and stopped. Without the knife at his throat, a bit of bravado returned. He brushed off the front of his jacket and straightened his hat. “I’ll see
that you’re thrown out on the street with nothing, girl,” he sneered.

A door somewhere down the hall opened, and the man turned his attention toward it. Arista slipped back into the stairwell and ran up the stairs as fast as she could. Her hands were shaking so
badly, it took three tries to open the door at the top.

Precious minutes had been lost because of that man, and her chances of being seen had increased. She had to get out of this place. As the hour grew late, more men would be roaming the halls. She
couldn’t get the feeling of the man’s touch out of her head. If she’d had the time, she might have jumped back into the tub of cold, dirty water to wash it away.

Arista counted seven doors and knocked softly. The door immediately swung open, and Arista stepped inside the darkened room. She met Becky’s wide-eyed stare in the flickering candlelight,
and then her glance slid to the chair in the corner of the room. Her heart thumped against her ribs dully.

Wild raised an eyebrow. He looked at the bundle of clothes in her arms.

“I hope you have not changed your mind already, my dear?”

“S
o I’m to be a prisoner after all, then?” Arista asked.

Wild laughed. “Of course not, but I
am
invested in your safety. If you’d like to venture out, I’d be more than willing to provide an escort. At this hour, it is most
prudent.” Just what she needed. Someone to keep watch over her every move. And report back to Wild, of course.

“I’ve been on the streets since I was five,” Arista said, forcing herself to speak calmly. “I don’t need anyone to go with me.”

“It would make me feel better, knowing you were protected. You have only just recovered, and I hate to think of you on the streets alone.”

“He’s right, miss,” Becky chimed in. She wrung her hands together and glanced between Wild and Arista. When Wild smiled at her, the girl visibly relaxed.

“I only wanted to get some air,” Arista lied. “I can’t move in this dress. But you’re right, it’s not safe. And I’m suddenly feeling tired. If
you’d excuse me, I’d like to rest now.”

Wild stood, and Arista hugged the stolen clothing tighter. Though the conversation was nothing but civil, Wild’s mouth tightened, and she knew he distrusted her.

“Truly, I am not used to being inside for such a long time. I only wanted to stretch my legs in the night air, as I’ve always done. It’s safer as a boy.”

“I understand, my dear. Really, I do. I don’t like long confinements, either. After tomorrow, you can come and go as you please. I only ask that you honor my request tonight.”
He held out his hands for the clothing she had borrowed. Arista shrugged and placed the bundle in his outstretched arms, pretending the stolen clothes were of little importance to her. Of course he
didn’t trust her yet. That was something she would have to earn.

“Good evening to you, ladies,” Wild said. With those last words, he closed the door and left Arista alone with Becky.

“Miss, what were you thinking?” Becky clasped her hands tightly in front of her, and she kept looking at the door as if expecting Wild to return any second.