A Kiss In The Dark (12 page)

“Saw what?”

“’is sin.” The little man glanced back over his shoulder, then laid a dirty finger over his mouth in a silencing gesture. “I saw it, too. But the devil can’t find out. ’E can’t find out what I saw or ’e’ll come after me and throw me in the deepest pit of ’ell.”

Deirdre reached out and caught his arm, her expression anxious. “These demons. Did they catch the angel, Mouse?”

“Oh, no. Angels ’ave wings, they ’ave. She flew away.”

Tristan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Damn it,” he hissed, taking a step closer to the two of them. “We’re wasting our time here. The man is quite obviously insane. Surely you’re not putting stock in anything he says?”

But Deirdre ignored him, her gaze intent on Mouse. “And you’re certain the angel you saw and the angel in the picture are the same?”

“’Course I’m certain. You don’t forget seeing an angel. I even picked up one of ’er pretties.” He ducked a hand into his coat pocket and withdrew a long length of ribbon, the silky lavender material shining against the filth of his skin as it unfurled on his palm. “See? She dropped it when she flew away.”

Tristan felt himself go ice cold as he stared down at the all too familiar object in the rat-catcher’s hand. Familiar because he’d bought it for Emily himself, one of a matched set he’d given to her as a present when he’d first returned home.

“It’s hers,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought to keep the panic that was bubbling up inside from overwhelming him. “It belongs to my sister.”

D
eirdre felt her stomach lurch as Tristan’s words registered, and she stared down in fascinated horror at the bedraggled ribbon curled in Mouse’s hand.

Was it possible? Had Emily already run afoul of Barnaby Flynt?

Aware of the tension emanating from Tristan, she took a step closer to the rat-catcher, struggling to keep her voice calm and even. “Where did you find this, Mouse?”

“I told you. The angel dropped it.”

There was a low growl from behind her, and the next thing she knew, Tristan had lunged forward and seized Mouse by his collar, lifting him up until his feet dangled well above the cobblestones.

“Where did you get that ribbon?” he gritted out, his face red with fury. When the rat-catcher failed to answer, simply looked up at him, goggle-eyed, he gave him a shake for good measure. “Damn you! Where?”

Mouse let out a mewling cry and began to claw at the large hands wrapped in the material of his shirt. Sally, sensing the threat to her master, began to weave in and out of Tristan’s legs, barking furiously.

“Tristan!” Alarmed, Deirdre reached out and caught hold of his elbow, giving it a hard tug. “Put him down!”

He didn’t appear to hear her. Violet eyes blazing, he gave Mouse another shake. Pale and limp, the little man resembled nothing so much as a rag doll in the grip of a giant. “If you’ve done anything to harm my sister—”

Desperate to make him listen, Deirdre tightened her grip on his arm. “Tristan, this isn’t helping Emily!”

Finally, her words seemed to penetrate the wall of anger that surrounded him and he glanced down at her, his eyes focusing on her pleading expression. Slowly, as some of the tension started to seep out of his rigidly held muscles, he lowered Mouse to the ground.

The rat-catcher didn’t hesitate. Taking immediate advantage of his newfound freedom, he whirled and scurried off into the shadows, Sally at his heels.

As his fleeing figure disappeared into the darkness, Tristan let out an expletive and started forward in pursuit, but Deirdre flung herself into his path, placing a restraining hand against the broad expanse of his chest.

“Let him go, Tristan.”

“Let him go? He might very well be the only tie I have to my sister!”

She shook her head. “He told us everything he knows.”

“He told us nothing, except for a bunch of lunatic ramblings that make no sense. I want the truth.”

“That
was
the truth, as Mouse sees it. Chasing him down and terrifying him won’t make him change his story.”

“What are you saying? That the devil has Emily?”

Deirdre bit her lip. That might very well be the case, she thought. There was no doubt in her mind whom Mouse had seen chasing Emily, and she could only pray that he’d been right when he’d said the angel had escaped. Telling Tristan of her suspicions now, however, would serve no purpose other than to worry him even more.

No, she would wait until she was certain of what had transpired.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered, turning and starting back down the alley toward the waiting carriage.

Tristan caught up with her in a few long, furious strides, bringing her to a halt with a hand on her arm. His eyebrows were lowered in a menacing scowl. “If I find out that—that
rat-catcher
harmed my sister in any way—”

“No! He wouldn’t!”

“He has her ribbon!”

“Which proves nothing except that he saw her, just as he said. Mouse wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“And you’re so certain of that because …?”

“Because I know him.”

Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “You never really know a person like that, Lady Rotherby. You can’t trust them.”

Pivoting on his heel, he stalked ahead.

Deirdre felt her temper flare at Tristan’s contemptuous words, and she hurried after him, stopping him just as he stepped from the dimness of the alley. “Wait a minute. What do you mean, people like
that
?”

He paused and looked down at her, one corner of his mouth tilted cynically.

“Look around you, my lady.” He gestured with one hand at the neighborhood just starting to bustle with morning activity. Merchants up and down the street were opening their shops to the growing number of people on the sidewalks, and a ragged group of urchins played a rowdy game of jacks on the steps of a nearby building, their laughter mingling with the cries of the costermongers.

“If I turned my back for one minute,” Tristan continued, his tone bitter, “half these people you seem so intent on defending would have my wallet out of my pocket in less than two seconds.”

“And half of them wouldn’t,” she argued, glaring at him. “How can you judge them? You know absolutely nothing about their lives.”

“I know enough to know what they’re capable of. I’ve been a witness to it. People like that are the reason my mother is dead.”

Deirdre froze, going cold all over at the mention of Lady Ellington. “Your mother?”

A muscle started to tick in his jaw and a spark of pain flared briefly in his eyes before he looked away. “Never mind. It’s in the past and I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t know why I brought it up.”

“But—”

“We still have Emily to find, remember? You promised results by noon, and so far all we have is one of her hair ribbons and the mad utterances of a rat-catcher.”

Before she could say anything else, he turned and started for the coach.

With a sigh, Deirdre signaled to Cullen and followed. It would most likely be in her best interest if she let the subject of the late countess drop. The last thing she wanted was to remind him she’d been there that fateful day. He was right, after all. They needed to concentrate on Emily. But his anguish had tugged at her heart, making her wish there was some way she could soothe his hurt.

Once again settling herself inside the carriage, her gaze strayed to Tristan’s chiseled profile as he stared out the window, his expression inscrutable. Obviously, his mother’s death still tormented him, and Deirdre couldn’t blame him, not after losing her in such a horrible way. Perhaps that was why he’d come back into her life after all these years. If she could somehow aid him in coming to terms with the past, maybe she could finally bring an end to the nightmares that still plagued her.

As the coach rocked into motion, she leaned forward in her seat, searching for the right words to penetrate his icy impassivity.

“I am aware, my lord,” she began tentatively, “that there are truly evil people who reside here in Tothill Fields, capable of some unspeakable things. But you must realize there are bad people in your—our world, as well.”

He glanced at her, his violet eyes glittering. “I believe I told you I don’t wish to discuss this.”

“Well, pardon me for overstepping my bounds, my lord, but perhaps you should. These are the people you’re going to have to deal with in order to find your sister, and if you desire their cooperation, you can’t afford to allow an incident from the past to affect how you treat them now.”

He said nothing, merely returning his gaze to the window. But Deirdre wasn’t about to be brushed aside.

Reaching out, she laid a hand on his muscular forearm, deliberately ignoring the small frisson of awareness that skittered across her nerve endings at the contact. “Tristan, these people struggle every day just to survive, and they are as deserving of our respect as anyone else. Maybe even more so.”

“Now you sound like her.”

His words startled her, and it took a moment before his meaning registered. “Your mother?”

He gave a stiff nod and turned back to face Deirdre. “She was the kindest, most caring person I’ve ever known. My father and I never got along, but my mother …” He paused and his face softened. “I loved and admired her a great deal.”

“I can tell. It’s in your voice when you speak of her.”

He gazed off into space, looking suddenly very far away, as if he were lost in his memories of the past. “Aside from her family, the one thing closest to her heart was helping those in need. From the time I was a small boy, I can remember her making up baskets for the poor, calling on the sick and elderly. She’d even taken some of the poverty-stricken families here in Tothill Fields under her wing.” Grief, stark and unflinching, cast a shadow over his features. “That’s what she was doing on the day she was killed. Visiting one of her charges.”

Stunned, Deirdre let out a sharp exhalation of air. She’d often wondered what someone like Lady Ellington had been doing in the middle of a place like the Fields. That the countess had been one of the rare individuals who truly cared about the plight of those in the rookeries only added to Deirdre’s burden of guilt.

Tristan continued to speak, unaware of her reaction to his revelation. “My father was never happy about my mother’s chosen vocation, of course. It isn’t exactly the ‘done thing’ among society to have one’s wife slogging through the gutters of the city in order to aid the less fortunate, is it?” One corner of his mouth curled into a wry twist. “But it was important to her, so he let it go. Until the spring I turned nineteen.”

As if unaware of what he was doing, he lifted Deirdre’s hand from his arm and threaded his fingers through hers, idly stroking the center of her palm with the pad of his thumb. Even through the material of her glove, she could feel the tingles set off by his touch, and she had to concentrate in order to focus on what he was saying.

“There had been an increase in crime in the vicinity of Tothill that year, robberies and murders. The
ton
was abuzz because it had even spilled over into sections of St. James and Piccadilly. A shop owner was burglarized and killed one night as he was closing up his store.”

Deirdre nodded. She well remembered the rash of violence that had followed the tightening of Barnaby Flynt’s malevolent hold on the Fields, and the west end of Piccadilly had been prime hunting grounds for the street thieves in the gang leader’s employ.

“Father finally put his foot down and forbid my mother to continue with her charitable work. Unfortunately, I don’t think he realized how determined she could be when she’d made up her mind to do something. She came to me one day when he was away from the house to ask for my help. It seemed she’d received a message from one of the families here in the Fields. Their baby was ill and Mother was concerned. She wanted to visit them, and she needed me to accompany her.”

Tristan shook his head. “Looking back now, I know I should have refused. But I never considered the danger, and I couldn’t see the harm as long as I was with her.”

Even though she knew what was coming, Deirdre felt herself tense, her eyes never wavering from his face.

“We hired a hackney for the afternoon,” he continued, his thumb smoothing over the material of her glove in another absentminded caress, “and spent an hour or two visiting with the family. It wasn’t until we were ready to leave and discovered that our hack had disappeared that the trouble started.