Unlacing Lilly

Chapter Two

August 15, 1821

“Devlin Farrell! Just the man I wanted to see.”

Devlin heaved a deep sigh and looked to the side to find James Hunter had occupied a chair at the table next to his. This could not be good. Whenever a Hunter came to see him, it meant problems. “What is it, Jamie?”

“Good to see you, too, Dev.” Jamie took a deep drink of ale from his tankard before he spoke again, scanning the barroom as if looking for trouble. “But as it happens, I do need something from you.”

Devlin stood and tilted his head toward the back passageway. After he unlocked his office door, he left it ajar for Hunter, who he knew would follow in another minute or two. Hunter, it seemed, was no more anxious for people to know that he associated with Devlin than Devlin was. He took two glasses and a bottle of excellent rye whiskey from the cabinet behind him, poured a measure in each glass, then sat back to wait.

A few minutes later, Hunter slipped through the office door and closed it behind him. “You’re a complicated man to see,” he said. “I meet most of my contacts at their club.”

Devlin snorted. “I doubt I’d be admitted to one of your clubs unless I was carrying the coal scuttle. You have to go slumming if you want to see me, Hunter.”

Despite his excellent instincts for survival, Devlin liked James Hunter. The man worked for the Home Office as a clandestine operative, he was honest and straightforward, and he never interfered with Devlin’s business. But, as a younger son of an earl, he was certainly a member of the ton, and consorting with society could give Devlin a bad name in Whitechapel.

“Farrell’s is the best of the Whitechapel gin houses, Dev. At least I know I won’t go blind drinking what you serve. In fact, if it was in Holborn or Mayfair, it would be quite a respectable place.”

“Aye? Well, it’s not in Mayfair. And neither am I. I’m a Whitechapel gutter rat, and here I’ll stay. But did you not see the sign outside? I’ve changed the name to The Crown and Bear.”

Hunter shrugged. “It’s your business and your life.”

“What do you need, Hunter?”

His guest sipped his whiskey and looked thoughtful. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for your assistance last month at the chapel on the old Ballinger estate. We could never have stopped the Blood Wyvern Brotherhood without your assistance, and my brother would be dead without your help.”

Devlin sipped again, remembering the incident. A degenerate group of peers looking for excitement had made a game of human sacrifice and Devlin had been drawn into the scheme by those trying to stop it—James Hunter and his brothers. “It wasn’t a fair fight. If I hadn’t thrown him a sword, someone else would have.”

“No one else had one,” Hunter reminded him.

“I am no hero, Hunter. Don’t try to pretend otherwise.”

Jamie gave him a wry grin. “If you say so, Dev. But you didn’t have to be there. Did you?”

“I felt some complicity since I told you where to find the bastards.”

“If I recall correctly, you mentioned that you had your own reasons for being there.”

Damn! He knew he would live to regret those unguarded words. “That’s my business, Hunter.”

“And I won’t interfere. But my investigation is not finished. We disbanded the bloody Brotherhood, but we did not capture them all. Since they were disguised by their robes, we cannot be certain we even know everyone involved.”

“They scattered like cockroaches in the sunlight.” Devlin chuckled. “They won’t surface again for a very long time.”

“And that is why I’ve come.”

“You want me to flush them out?”

“Aye. The problem is in bringing them in. We know some of those involved, but they are lying low until the affair blows over. It will not blow over. These men are murderers and must be dealt with. We suspect some of them may be hiding in the rookeries. Thieves Kitchen. And that’s where you come in. You know things, Dev. You hear things. People will talk to you because they trust you. See what you can learn.”

Devlin shook his head. “I’ve grown accustomed to my neck the way it is. I do not need it broken.”

“Does it not bother you that Henley got away? Or that Lord Elwood and Percy Throckmorton are continuing on as if nothing has happened? There were others, Dev. If stopping them was not your reason for being there, what was?”

Revenge. Rough justice. He’d waited for an opportunity like that, only to watch it disappear in an instant when he stopped to throw a sword to Hunter’s brother. “’Twas none of my business. I owed your brother a favor, and now it’s paid.”

“There are some compelling reasons why you should help, Dev. Self-interest, chief among them.”

“How is it in my own interest to assist the Home Office in anything?”

Hunter’s dark purple eyes narrowed, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “Your…cooperation with the Home Office keeps the charleys from your door. If you didn’t cooperate, their frequent visits at The Crown and Bear could be bad for business.”

Ah, blackmail. Devlin seethed beneath the surface. Hunter must be desperate, indeed, to resort to that. He took another long drink from his glass and considered his options. Refusing Hunter’s request would gain him nothing. Nor would granting it cost him anything. He did not respond favorably to threats. Nor did he think the charleys would be particularly bad for business. The crowd that frequented The Crown and Bear were a cut above the usual gin-house rowdies. He and Mick Haddon kept a superficial peace. And, to tell the truth, he didn’t give a damn about Henley or the others.

No, he’d only wanted to know if Olney or Rutherford were at the sacrifice. And he’d wanted to use that information against them. But perhaps he could still uncover that information. If he and Hunter tracked the Brotherhood down one by one, he might get lucky and discover a stray duke or marquis in the lot. Now wouldn’t that be delicious? Yes, that would make an excellent backup if his first plan failed.

“I have pressing business for the next week, Hunter, and may have to go away for a short while. A week, at most. After that…I might find some time.”

“The sooner, the better,” Hunter urged. “A month has passed already, and I fear the blackguards may be making plans to leave the country until the scandal blows over.”

Devlin laughed. “I disagree, Hunter. A month is just enough time for them to get cocky and think they’ve escaped unnoticed. Give them another week, and they won’t even be looking for us. We shall take them by surprise.”

Hunter raised his glass in a salute and Devlin returned it. Yes, things were coming together nicely.

Lilly sipped her tea, affecting a serene countenance as all about her was in turmoil. Isabella and her new husband were gently entreating her mother. Gina sat in a corner, applying herself to her needlework and ignoring the conversation. Lilly wished she could, but since she was the subject of it, that was not possible.

“I really think—” Isabella began.

Their mother waved her hand to silence her sister. “Good heavens, Bella, I cannot believe you want us to remove to your home. That would be so disruptive when I am still in mourning for poor Cora. Why can we not stay on here? The lease is paid through September.”

Andrew Hunter, her sister’s new husband, placed his hand on Bella’s shoulder in a show of support, an expression of profound patience etched on his face. “Because, Mrs. O’Rourke, we wish to see to your needs and to offer you the protection of our home. When Miss Lilly is married, I am certain you would not want to intrude upon the newlyweds. Your house will be nearly empty with only you and Miss Gina left.”

“I suppose it will be very lonely and quiet here when Lilly is gone.” Mama glanced over her shoulder at Gina and lowered her voice. “I cannot think what has got into Gina. She used to be so lively.”

Lilly and Bella exchanged a quick glance but said nothing. Only they knew of the night barely a month ago when a brotherhood of murderous villains had kidnapped Gina intending to make her their next victim. If Mama ever found out how close Gina had come to death, she’d never allow her to leave the house again.

Bella tried again. “Lilly and Lord Olney will be away on their wedding trip for a month or more, and by then you will be settled in with us. We have room enough, and Andrew has said he’d rather have you with us than with Olney.”

“But why?” Her mother’s tone was querulous. “I am certain the marquis—” she paused for emphasis “—would be delighted to make room for us. When we went to his home for tea last week, he was quite accommodating.”

Lilly was not as certain as her mother that her new husband would welcome her family. In the two months Olney had been courting her, he had given her dozens of costly trinkets as if to prove his generosity. He had sent her poems and letters on the days when they had not met in person. He’d been her most ardent suitor by far—almost inappropriately so. But never once had he indicated that Mama and Gina would be welcome to stay in their home once they were wed, and though her mother was delighted that Lilly would be a duchess someday, Olney’s parents could not forget that her family came from “humble origins.” Which always begged the question—why had he stooped so low as to propose marriage to her?

That odious man in the garden the night of Olney’s proposal was likely right. Olney would marry her to have what he otherwise could not. Well, as far as she was concerned, it was a fair trade. He would have access to her body, and she would have social and financial security for Mama and Gina. Even Mr. Hunter and Bella would benefit from that association, though it was clear to her that Mr. Hunter did not like Olney in the least.

“Perhaps later you could join Lilly and Olney,” Bella was suggesting. “When they are settled.”

“You are a fine one to talk, Bella. You and Mr. Hunter have been married, what, a month today? Are you not newlyweds yourselves?”

“Andrew feels—”

“That you need the protection and presence of a man,” Andrew finished for her. “Surely you can see the benefit to Miss Gina and yourself in having a male presence to protect you from unscrupulous tradesmen and other bothersome details, not to mention the troublesome events surrounding the disgraced queen’s funeral procession yesterday? People were hurt in those riots, Mrs. O’Rourke. My servants are more than adequate for your needs. And, of course, you will bring Nancy with you, and Cook if you wish.”

Her mother looked mildly surprised. “So this is your idea, is it, Mr. Hunter?”

“Bella and I have discussed it at length and believe that it is the best possible place for you. Once you are out of mourning, you will require a safe place to entertain Miss Gina’s callers and freedom from the cares of running your own household. Surely you can see the attention that two attractive women alone would draw from scoundrels.”

Mama gave him a little smile, almost flirtatious. “And who better to recognize them than another scoundrel?”

“Precisely,” Mr. Hunter replied, not in the least put off by Mama’s veiled barb.

“Well, in that case…I suppose I could always go to Lilly after she and Olney have settled and are accustomed to one another.”

Mr. Hunter gave Lilly a quick glance, and she was surprised by the concern she saw in his eyes. “Yes, you could. And, of course, Miss Lilly will always be welcome in my home, as well.”

What an odd way of phrasing such a sentiment. Lilly wondered if he was hinting that Olney would not be welcome. He and Bella had tried to talk to her about her impending nuptials several times, but she had changed the subject. She really did not want them planting doubts in her mind. Why could they not see that Olney was a dear in so many ways? Yes, she knew that he would be a challenge to handle, but she was certain she could manage. And the benefit of the lofty connection for Mama and Gina was immense.

“Gina? What do you say? Shall we remove to Mr. Hunter’s house?” Mama asked.

Gina looked up from her needlework and swept a stray strand of dark hair back. “Will there be servants about? And locks on the doors?”

Bella smiled encouragingly. “Yes, Gina. And you shall have your own room. I picked a bright and sunny one for you, with a sitting area where you can do your needlework or read.”

“Then, yes. I should like that very much. I have missed having you about, Bella.”

“Then it is agreed!” Mr. Hunter rubbed his hands together. “I shall send servants to pack you up this very afternoon. No sense putting it off. You shall be settled before the wedding, Mrs. O’Rourke.”

“But Lilly has her last fitting for her wedding gown this afternoon. And I had hoped to shop the stalls at Covent Garden for ribbon.”

“By all means, do your chores. Bella tells me there is not much to be done since you leased this place fully furnished. Your Nancy can supervise the packing of your personal belongings.”

“This is so sudden….”

Lilly touched her mother’s arm. “I think this is for the best, Mama. I do not mind in the least, and I shall feel better leaving knowing that you will have someone to look after your needs and that you will have the protection of family.”

Mama’s eyes grew sad and Lilly knew she was thinking of Cora, and how she might still be alive if there had been more people about to see what she’d been doing. Mama took a deep breath before speaking. “Yes, then. Thank you, Mr. Hunter. We shall be delighted to accept your hospitality.”

“Miss Lilly, may I go look at the gewgaws? I’d like to find some little trinket to send my sister. I shall be right behind you.”

Lilly glanced at her rosy-cheeked, plump maid, Nancy, then down the row of stalls at Covent Garden and nodded. “I shall be looking at the ribbons. Mama asked me to find some greens and lavenders. Stay within calling distance.”

Nancy nodded and disappeared into a stall selling fairings and Lilly continued down the row, feeling wilted in the late-afternoon heat. Even Mama had decided to stay at home to supervise the packing and sent Nancy to the fitting as her escort instead. It was just as well. Her fitting had taken more time than she’d planned. It seemed she’d lost weight since the first measurements had been taken—enough weight to warrant alterations to the nearly finished wedding gown.

She hated the garment. It was heavy with the frills, flounces, lace and bows reminiscent of court gowns of old, and made her look like a parody of a bride. Olney’s parents had chosen the pattern, saying it was the only design befitting their wealth and consequence.

In fact, she had not been allowed to choose anything for her wedding. The duchess had decreed that, since the O’Rourkes were new to town, they would not have the slightest idea about who should be invited, what to do or how to proceed. The duchess had handled it all. Mama had been relieved. Lilly, however, was growing very tired of their interference and the constant harping on their consequence in society and wondered if she was cut out to be a marchioness, let alone a duchess.

But it was too late to turn back now. Her future in-laws would just have to accept her as she was. She was committed to her course and nothing could change that. She had remained resolute in the whirlwind of the past three weeks because of Mama’s delight in such a good match and the thought that Gina would have her pick of men. That was all she cared about.

Of course, she could find happiness with Olney.

She blew a drooping strand of hair away from her face as she looked down to inspect a row of rainbow-colored ribbons. She found the exact shade of lavender her mother wanted and asked the merchant to cut a length. The green she found was near to Mama’s shade, but a bit lighter. Still, rather than shopping in the heat, she ordered a length of that, too. The merchant announced, “Sixpence, if you please. Three for each.”

When she opened the drawstrings of her silk reticule, she was confounded. She could have sworn she had taken a one-pound banknote before she left the house. “Sir, if you will hold those ribbons for me, I shall return with payment.”

The man narrowed his eyes as if he suspected trickery. “Tryin’ to cheat an old man, are ye?” he asked in a loud voice.

“No!” The heat of a deep blush stole up Lilly’s cheeks. “I promise I will be back. I must find my maid. She will lend me what I need.”

“Yer maid? She’s got money when you don’t? The ribbon is cut, Miss Hoity-toity. Ye’ll pay fer it or I’ll call the charleys.”

“I will advance her the money,” a voice from behind her offered.

She turned and was both dismayed and relieved to find the man from Olney’s garden. “Thank you, Mr…. ah, but I cannot accept. I barely know you, and it wouldn’t be proper.”

“It is only a length of ribbon, Miss O’Rourke. ’Twill not bankrupt me. I warrant you are good for it.”

The merchant crowded forward and put his hand out.

“But I do not even know your name, sir.”

“Devlin.” And he gave her that crooked devil-may-care smile she had not been able to forget.

“Mr. Devlin? Very well. I am indebted to you.”

With her nod, the man dropped sixpence into the merchant’s palm. She stuffed the ribbons into her reticule and stepped away from the stall, anxious to disassociate herself from the scene.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Devlin. I fear that man was about to turn me over to the police. I cannot even begin to imagine what my mother would have done. Or Olney.”

He laughed and she had to smile, too. The very thought of Olney trying to explain that the woman he was going to marry in three days’ time had been arrested for theft was completely absurd. He would be certain to cancel the wedding.

“Alas, we shall never know,” he said. “And I swear I shall never breathe a word of this to anyone. Now, tell me. Is your maid really about? And will she stand you the sixpence?”

“She is, sir. She is trying to find a trinket for her sister. She should be along any moment.”

He reached out and brushed the loosened curl back from her face. The gesture was innocent, but somehow so intimate that it left her breathless, and she could not think of anything to say.

“I am not worried over my sixpence, Miss O’Rourke. I was merely wondering if you were trying to stall the merchant.”

“It is true, sir. If Mama had not asked for ribbons, I would be home now.”

“Ah, they are for your mother? I thought the green to be a perfect shade for you.” He took her arm. “Come, let’s stroll along until your maid comes. I’d prefer to be away from that man’s stall.”

“Yes!” She breathed a sigh of relief and did not even glance back as they left the merchant behind. “I promise you, I have never had anything like that happen to me before. I was certain I had a banknote in my reticule. I must have forgotten to put it in before I left the house.”

“Or you put it in and some enterprising street urchin relieved you of it.”

The thought of such a thing made her indignant. “Oh, that cannot be. My reticule has been over my wrist the whole time.”

“Allow me.” He slipped behind her and loosened the drawstrings with a touch so light she couldn’t feel it. In a fluid movement, he dipped two fingers in, withdrew a glove and turned away, all without a single sign that he had violated her property.

She was astonished. “How did you do that?”

“Years and years of experience, Miss O’Rourke. Accomplished thieves are not heavy-handed. Nor do the good ones have to resort to being a cutpurse.”

“You are a thief?”

“Was, Miss O’Rourke, in my misspent youth. I am reformed now.” He tucked the glove back in her reticule and gave her an impudent smile. “Well, from thieving, anyway.”

A thief? Did Olney really invite such people to his fetes? “Then what do you do now?”

“Oh, a number of things. Look after my investments. Manage my employees. Look for new opportunities. But I am a dull subject, Miss O’Rourke. I am more interested, instead, about why you are wandering London streets without a groom or male servant in view of the Queenite disturbances yesterday.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps I am a Queenite.”

He laughed and gave her a friendly nudge. “Now that would surprise me. No respectable young miss with an eye to her reputation and standing in society would admit to being a supporter of the queen. Risk the displeasure of the king? No.”

“You have made the rather sweeping assumption that I am respectable, Mr. Devlin. Perhaps I am not.”

“If you were not, Olney would not be marrying you.”

“Oh, dear. You’ve caught me out.” She gave him a sideways glance and a tingle of pleasure went through her when she saw his wide grin.

“You are a bit of a tease, are you not, Miss O’Rourke? I hope Olney appreciates that.”

She rather doubted he did. He never seemed to know the differences between teasing and serious discourse. But there were worse things in a man than a lack of humor. She shrugged. “He will become accustomed to my little quirks.”

“I shall pray he does.”

Lilly was about to respond when she was distracted by a small dirty child who came running toward them, looked up, saw Mr. Devlin’s face and came to an abrupt halt. His mouth formed an O and his eyes grew wide.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean no ’arm. I didn’t know she was yer lady.” He stuck one grimy hand into his pocket, withdrew a one-pound note and offered it to Mr. Devlin.

Mr. Devlin took the banknote and gave the boy a stern look. “Next time, Ned, keep going. Returning invites recognition and being caught.”

“Aye, sir.” Ned turned and ran back the way he’d come.

Lilly looked at him in amazement. “Is that my banknote? Are you teaching the boy to steal, Mr. Devlin?”

“No. I was teaching him not to get caught.”

“Perhaps he should be, if he is taking other people’s belongings.”

“I might agree with you, Miss O’Rourke, if I did not know that he will not eat tonight if he does not steal. Nor will he have a place to lay his head.”

“Surely his parents—”

“He does not know his father, and his mother…well, shall we say she is not interested in her son?”

“But she is responsible for him.”

“She believes her first responsibility is to her addiction. Blue ruin, Miss O’Rourke. Everything she can manage to scrape together goes to feed that need.”

Blue ruin. Gin. Lilly shuddered. She could not even imagine such a life. “I am sorry for him, but would he not be better off in an orphanage? There, at least, he would be fed and have a place to sleep. Perhaps he would learn his letters and ciphers, and certainly the difference between right and wrong.”

Mr. Devlin gave her such a look of profound disbelief that she began to question her conclusion. “The street is often a better place than an orphanage.” He presented her with her banknote and a small bow. “I pray you do not think less of me for assisting your villain.”

In truth, she didn’t know what to think of him. His physical presence was nearly intoxicating, and she’d never met a man who admitted to having been a thief. Nor one who commanded the respect of a small pickpocket—a very good one, at that.

She took her banknote and pushed it back in her reticule. “The note is all I have. Can you make change for it?”

He shook his head. “You may pay me the next time we meet, Miss O’Rourke. Meantime…” He tossed another coin to a flower vendor they were passing and plucked a dewy pink rose from a bucket with a natural grace that belied his size.

When he presented the rose to her, she knew she should refuse, but she found she couldn’t. The hypnotic hold of his eyes compelled her to accept. Their fingers brushed when she accepted the flower, and the heat of his touch spread up her arm to make her cheeks burn.