Tangled Webs (21 page)

“Don’t be frightened,” Sophia said, mistaking Arista’s hesitation for fear. “We’re nearly there. Trust me.”

Just as Arista was starting to dig in her heels and insist they return to the street, the alley opened up onto another street, quieter than the last.

“We’re here,” Sophia said. Her smile grew wider.

Here
appeared to be a small coffeehouse tucked between a shoemaker and a bookbinder. The sign on the plaque read
LLOYD
’
S COFFEEHOUSE
.
People lounged inside, gathered around the square tables that were crowded into the space. Lively discussions were going on in every corner. Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd. Sophia grabbed her
hand and squeezed, then pulled them inside to stand along the wall.

“There he is,” Sophia whispered. Excited murmuring spread throughout the people gathered there.

“Who?” Arista asked. She had never been to a coffeehouse, though she knew what often took place inside them: discussion, mostly political, mostly among men. There were no class
distinctions in many of them, and Lloyd’s appeared to be the same. Arista saw fine tailored suits and threadbare cotton, silk and muslin. She and Sophia were, however, the only women in the
establishment.

“Voltaire.” Reverence filled Sophia’s voice.

Even Arista had heard of the man in conversations at the parties she attended. He was part of the Enlightenment movement, and the aristocracy hated his message. They fought to have him silenced,
because he spoke of equality and the dissolution of the classes. She had often wondered how one man could cause such resentment and fear in others.

Until he began to speak. His soft, French-accented voice carried over the hushed crowd. He spoke of privilege and wealth and how each person, regardless of the circumstances of their birth,
deserved to be treated as an equal to everyone else.

Shouts of agreements rose above them.

Sophia gripped her hand tighter, nodding her head. Her eyes shone with the fervor that filled the room. And Arista? Her skin prickled with excitement as she got caught up in Voltaire’s
words. Never had she heard such conviction. Such belief in one’s own words. She found herself nodding, too.

“Sophia, love, I hoped to see you here.”

A new voice came from behind them. Sophia released Arista’s hand and swung around with a happy cry. “Louis!”

He took her hand and bowed low, brushing his lips over her fingers. A blush rose in Sophia’s cheeks. A cocky grin split the handsome young man’s face and he stepped closer, resting a
hand on her hip in a familiar way.

“Louis, this is my house guest, Ana.”

Louis’s gaze turned assessing as he looked over Arista. When his eyes finally stopped at her face, he stared at her unapologetically. “You have the look of a gypsy about ya. Do you
read fortunes, too?” Arista froze. Nic had only ever called her “gypsy” in jest.

“Louis!” Sophia gasped. She looked between Arista and Louis, clearly embarrassed.

“What? We could use a fortune teller, love.” He laughed, but the emotion didn’t quite make it to his eyes. There was nothing threatening about him; he appeared relaxed enough,
and made no indication that he would reach for a weapon. But instinct—a familiar feeling in her gut—told her that he wasn’t all that he appeared. The way he dressed, the
threadbare wool trousers that were a little too short, the scuffed boots that looked too big, all spoke of poverty. The kind that Arista had grown up in. What was Sophia doing with someone like
him?

The crowd shifted, moving closer as one to hear what the dynamic speaker was saying. Sophia took Arista’s hand so that they would not be separated.

“So, you’re another one for the cause, aye?” Louis leaned around Sophia and addressed Arista. At her questioning stare, Louis tugged Sophia closer. “This one believes
that we are all the same, regardless of social standing. I tell her it’s a lost cause, but she refuses to listen. Them with the money won’t ever let people like me into their circles.
Not that I want to rub elbows with that stuffy lot.” Sophia elbowed him, and he grunted. “Well, there are a few lovely exceptions, I admit.”

Arista saw the way they looked at each other, and turned away. It was too intimate to watch. Voltaire continued to talk. Arista tuned out the couple and let his words wash over her.

If enough people would rise up and denounce the way things were, he said, if they no longer accepted the boundaries of the classes, it could all begin to change. He made it sound so simple. It
could have been five minutes or fifty, she was so caught up in the spell Voltaire had cast.

“Love, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Louis said to Sophia. It wasn’t his sudden disappearance, but his tone, that piqued Arista’s interest. Resigned—to
whatever it was he had to do. He didn’t want to go, that much was clear. She followed his progress as he made his way outside the crowd. Even in the thick mass spilling out of the doors,
Arista knew the man that Louis had stopped to talk to.

Wild.

Louis pulled a thick packet from inside his jacket and handed it to the Thief Taker. Wild, in turn, gave Louis a small drawstring bag that he immediately tucked away. Arista wanted to get
closer, to hear what they were saying, but she didn’t want Wild to see her. To let him know that he’d been seen.

But now she needed to know what business Louis was conducting with the Thief Taker. It seemed too big of a coincidence that he and Sophia were on such friendly terms, while Sophia’s father
owed Wild an unpaid debt. Was Louis toying with Sophia to gain some kind of information?

He would find himself less one vital organ if Arista found out it was all a ruse. It was obvious by the way Sophia looked at him that she was in love. For the second time, Arista reached for the
familiar shape of her knife handle, but it wasn’t there. The crowd suddenly became suffocating around her. Too close. Too little room to move. Stars began to dance at the edge of her vision.
Ripples of tension raced up her spine.

Louis came back and grinned as if nothing were amiss. When he caught Arista’s stare, his smile faltered. She was not one to back down. Louis swallowed visibly and took a step away from
her.

“Sophia, could we go, please? I’m feeling suddenly unwell,” Arista said. She had to get her friend away from Louis, at least until she could figure out what was going on.
“It must be the crowd and the heat. I’m not used to so many people.”

“Of course,” Sophia said right away. Her gaze moved to Louis and a wistful look crossed her face. He glanced at Arista, then lifted Sophia’s hand to his lips once more.

“We can meet here in another two days, love. Every second will feel like forever. Nice to meet you, Ana.” With a sideways glance at Arista, he disappeared into the crowd.

A dreamy smile drifted over Sophia’s lips as she stared at the place where Louis had been. When Sophia saw Arista watching, her cheeks turned red. “I know it’s unconventional,
but I really think I love him.” Her face immediately fell. “Papa will never allow it. He’s a poet.”

“How did you meet him?” Arista asked Sophia.

She guided Sophia along the sidewalk, toward the intersection. There was no way she’d go back through the alley, not with the possibility that Wild was still nearby. She didn’t want
him to know that she’d seen him meeting with Louis. Not yet.

“Papa had business with a blacksmith a few months ago, and I talked him into letting me ride along if I promised to stay in the carriage. This very bold boy, the blacksmith’s
apprentice, kept walking past, sneaking glances at me and smiling. I thought he was quite forward, and told him so. He laughed and said someone as beautiful as me must be used to stares.”
Sophia looked up becomingly from under her lashes.

He was probably trying to figure out the best way to pick your pocket.

Arista kept the thought to herself.

“A week later, I saw him again at the market. And then I found a poem he left—it was in a corner of the garden where I like to sit and read. A few days later, I found a note. It
asked me to meet him on Lombard Street, at the coffeehouse.” She grinned at Arista. “I’m all for a grand romantic adventure, you know. That was three months ago.”

They were at the intersection and Arista scanned the streets. There were more carriages and people on this one, and she stepped closer to Sophia. Nic used to do the same for her, to keep watch
of everything around them. Looking for danger.

It had to be Sophia’s innocence that made Arista feel this way. Sophia had no idea that there were bad people in the world, who would use her or hurt her for their own gain. Arista knew it
too well. Without knowing for sure what Louis’s real intentions were, she vowed to keep an eye on her new friend.

Louis had to have ulterior motives, especially if he knew someone like Wild. They should be easy enough to find out. All she had to do was follow him, eavesdrop, and she’d know the truth.
Better that Sophia feel the sting of betrayal rather than the pain of something much worse.

As they neared the carriage, Tomas turned in surprise. “Done already? And no packages?”

His eyebrows rose in suspicion, but Sophia only grinned. “Can you believe there was absolutely nothing that caught my eye after all?”

“No, I cannot,” Tomas mumbled as he helped them into the carriage. He climbed in and picked up the reins.

A very pretty but disappointed-looking young washerwoman stood in the doorway of the laundry shop and watched them pull away. Tomas gave her a quick wave, and the girl blushed before ducking
back into the doorway. The streets were even more crowded now, and it took almost an hour to make their way back to the townhouse.

“Tell me more about Louis,” Arista prompted, and Sophia eagerly told her everything about him.

By that time they arrived home, Arista knew what she had to do. Grae might not want to talk to her, but she had to tell him about Louis. It all seemed too contrived, especially given that the
young man clearly had ties to Wild.

Though she couldn’t tell Grae everything, she had to tell him enough so that he would intercede and protect his sister.

Arista would not let Sophia get mixed up with a thief.

T
omas had no idea that Grae did not want to see Arista, so he was more than willing to take her to the docks. She’d never been there dressed
as a girl before, and more than one admiring glance was thrown her way as Tomas maneuvered the carriage through the tight spaces created by the crates of goods in the process of being loaded and
unloaded. Shouts and loud thumps and the sharp smell of unwashed bodies filled the air. How had she never noticed it before? Dozens of men from various ships moved about as if they were following
the steps to an intricate dance. How they didn’t crash into each other, especially while pushing carts piled high with cargo, she’d never know.

When Tomas finally stopped in front of a massive three-masted ship, Arista could not stop the warm rush of admiration. It was beautiful. Moored next to the wharf, bobbing on the river, the
ship’s elegant design was on display. Intricate carvings covered the hull, and a figurehead of a woman stretched proudly out in front. Small windows lined the front of the hull in a neat row,
and the mahogany wood gleamed in the sunlight. Hundreds of lines of ropes stretched in all different directions, creating a weblike effect that she could make neither head nor tail of.

On board, men rushed all over, checking ropes and scrubbing down the decks. Arista and Nic had sat watching enough times to know that the rituals of sailors rarely deviated. They were preparing
the ship for another departure. Grae would sail away from her in the near future.

Small panels in the side of the ship brought Arista back to the reality of how dangerous Grae’s job was. If attacked, cannons would be pushed through them to fire on pirate ships. Had he
fought another ship on the open ocean? Faced pirates?

There was so much she didn’t know about him. That she wanted to know. She rubbed her arms to push away the chill at the thought of Grae in danger.

“I’ll go get Mister Graeden, miss. You stay in the carriage. The docks ain’t no place for a lady.” Tomas jumped down and tethered the horse to a post, then jogged to the
gangplank that led to the deck.

She almost protested that she’d spent plenty of time in the area, and had never suffered more than a swipe to the ear, when she remembered that it was different now. Then, she had been
dressed as a boy, and had garnered nary a glance; but now, men eyed her as they passed. They grinned with interest, and a few were brazen enough to say hello. Arista ignored them all. Instead she
sat quietly, clenching her hands tightly in her lap. She had her knife strapped to her thigh if she needed to use it, so that provided a small measure of comfort.

It was only a few minutes before Grae appeared. The top buttons on his crisp white shirt were undone and he had rolled his sleeves up, revealing tanned forearms. He had on black pants tucked
into tall black boots, and he stood with his feet wide apart. In this light he looked less a highwayman and more a pirate.