Chapter 13
“Are you sure this is the place you wanted me to stop, madam?”
Tilly looked up at the driver as she stood beside the carriage. She wasn’t sure of anything but said, “Yes, but if I give you money, would you return shortly? I will not take long,” Tilly said casting a nervous glance around.
“I will return for you in twenty minutes, madam, and if you are not here then I shall leave,” the driver said.
“Thank you,” It was the best she could hope for, so she’d take it. God willing, she would be back on this spot in twenty minutes. If not, she would have to find another hackney.
As she walked away after handing over more money, the clop of hooves sounded loud in her ears. Tilly stomped down the panic.
She’d gone to The Iris early, as her parents were away for the night, visiting friends, and she had no need to hurry home, as long as she did so before dark.
It had been the conversation Tilly had with Margaret this morning about needing more staff in the club that brought Ruby to the forefront of her mind once more.
Why had she not returned to the employment she’d been offered? Ruby had seemed eager to do so, but there had been no sign of her since.
As Tilly had been leaving The Iris, she’d made yet another impulsive move and directed the driver here.
You only met the girl once. Still, here she was.
It had been a risk to come here without Verity, but in all honesty her constant carping about the way a lady should behave had her leaving her behind again this morning.
Tilly could only imagine what she would say about her current location.
If her parents or, and dare she even think his name, Ambrose, found out, there would be hell to pay.
The problem was, if something got into her head, Tilly had to see it through to its completion. She took out her handkerchief and pretended to blow her nose. The stench was horrid, and it was all around her.
It was not a single smell but a layering of them, like coal smoke and river mud, plus the sour tang of too many unwashed bodies. Tilly raised her handkerchief to her nose again.
She kept her eyes forward as she walked, knowing that soon she would have to ask for the location to Flower and Dean Street. The buildings leaned toward one another overhead like they were sharing secrets, their upper stories almost touching, blocking the pale morning light to a grey trickle.
Tilly was used to people and lots of them, but here they were everywhere.
Women with baskets barged past her without apology, and children in rags ran barefoot across filthy streets.
A man slept upright in a doorway. A girl no older than ten hawked matches from a tray strung around her neck, her face appeared old in all the wrong ways.
At least Tilly had worn a dark brown coat and sturdy black boots today. Her bonnet was brown also, and her cream scarf was tucked inside her coat out of sight, but she still felt conspicuous and could feel eyes on her.
She saw an old lady sitting on a rickety stool to the right and made herself walk that way.
“Good day to you. I was wondering if you could tell me in which direction is Flower and Dean Street?”
The woman had no teeth, and the skin above her eyes seemed to almost cover them. She was wrapped in dirty shawls and was probably not as old as she appeared. “Why do you want to know?”
“I have business there, madam,” Tilly said. “I am to meet with Ruby Little.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed as she studied Tilly. “Don’t know the name or the street.” She then spat on the ground at Tilly’s feet.
“Well, thank you anyway.” Walking away fast, she carried on down the street.
An approaching vehicle had her stepping closer to the buildings. A carriage was passing, and the man staring out of the window made her shrink into the shadows.
What was Ambrose doing here?
Turning her head so their eyes would not meet, she hurried away.
“Tilly!”
She ignored the roar and walked faster.
“Stop at once!”
Drat.
Turning, she saw he was standing in the carriage doorway now, glaring at her. She could just run away and would likely lose him in no time, but he knew how to find her and would make a point of tracking her down to yell at her some more.
He stepped down, spoke briefly to his driver, and then stalked her way, seemingly oblivious to what was going on around him.
“My lord, what brings you here?” Tilly said, her tone genial, which wasn’t easy, as her throat felt tight.
He stopped when the toes of his large boots brushed hers. Leaning in to deliberately intimidate her, he roared, “The more important question, Miss Wilson, is what the bloody hell are you doing in such a place alone?”
“I’m sure cussing is not necessary, my—”
“Tilly.” Her name came out as a warning.
“Well, as to that, I am trying to locate someone, thank you for asking.”
He lowered his dark brows, and there was a pulse pounding in his neck now. Anger vibrated off the man. She always seemed to have that effect on him.
It was then she saw the mark on his cheek.
“What has happened to your face?”
“You are in one of the worst slums in London, alone,” he went on, not answering her question. “Have you any idea what could happen to you here?”
“I do not plan to stay long.”
His teeth snapped together, and he inhaled and exhaled through his teeth.
“I am not a complete fool, and am carrying my pistol and a knife strapped to my thigh, my lord. So you can leave, and I will be quite well.”
He stared at her for long seconds. “You carrying a pistol and a knife is meant to reassure me, is it?”
“I can shoot better than you,” she snapped back. “Now leave me, and I shall see to my business, and you can go and do what people like you do.”
“People like me?” The words had a low dangerous growl to them.
“Oh, for pity’s sake just go. I shall be fine.” Tilly turned and walked away before he could stop her.
“You don’t honestly think I will leave you here alone, do you?”
“Yes. We don’t even like each other.”
“I don’t like many people. That doesn’t mean I want them to be robbed, beaten, or worse,” he snapped back.
She kept walking, chin raised, ignoring him. Then a thought came to her, and she stopped. “Why are you here, Lord Talbot?”
“Ambrose,” he said. “And I am here because I am looking at the piece of land that we discussed in the meeting the other day. The one that would make an excellent housing complex.”
“Is that close by? I should like to see that also.”
“That way,” he said, waving a hand over her shoulder. “But right now I want the whole truth as to why you are here, Tilly.”
“What happened to your face?” she repeated.
“Last night after the musicale, I went walking, and when I reached the clubs, I checked that outside door again. Someone was there, and they struck me.”
“Dear Lord,” Tilly whispered.
“Exactly, but right now is not the time to discuss that. I insist you tell me why you are here, Tilly.”
He looked as immovable as the buildings surrounding them. His large shoulders were encased in a deep grey overcoat, and she could see very little beyond them. His hat made him taller, the expression on his handsome face a little meaner, not that she was intimidated.
“It’s none of your business,” she said.
He folded his arms, widening his stance, which told her he was not about to move until she told him what he wanted to know.
“Oh, very well,” Tilly said after looking left and right. People were staring at them now. “If you remember I told you about a woman called Ruby who visited me when we opened The Iris. She was looking for her sister, Fern, who used to work in the gentleman’s club.”
“And what? She lives here, so you came to question her further?”
“No. I offered her a position in The Iris. We need a seamstress and another maid. She said she would like to work there but never returned. I was worried about her.”
“You met her once, and now you’re worried about her?”
“What of her sister? Perhaps whatever is going on below the clubs could be why she is missing, Ambrose.”
“Finally, she uses my name,” he muttered. “And while I want to hear more of this theory, I fear here, on this particular street, is not the place to hold this conversation, so come. I shall return you home.”
She stepped back out of his reach. “I’m not leaving until I see her.”
“You don’t even know her!”
The anger was back again. Tilly knew some of that reaction was actually concern for her safety, but she had come this far and would not return without at least trying to find Ruby.
“I don’t take orders from you, sir.”
He leaned in closer, and she caught his scent of damp wool and a hint of citrus. Clean and fresh, it was the smell of a man who did not make a London slum his home.
“You do if you are deliberately being reckless or placing yourself in danger.”
“I have a father who looks after me,” she hissed back.
He made a show of looking around them. “And yet I see neither him nor your maid.”
“They’re busy,” she gritted out. “I’m done bandying words with you. Good day.”
“No.” Just the one word, and he was beside her as she walked away. His shoulder brushing hers. “I will allow this, but only until I think it is a danger to you, Tilly. Then I will throw you over my shoulder should I need to.”
“I’d like to see you bloody try!”
That made him snort, but he instantly sobered. “I have terrible visions of what would have happened to you had I not seen you when I did.”
“I would have been all right. I’m resourceful,” she countered quickly.
“Even you cannot subdue a man who is intent on harming you or a group of children who want to steal your things.”
“Leave me alone.” Tilly increased her pace. Seeing two young boys coming toward her, she stepped in front of them. “Excuse me, can you tell me where Flower and Dean Street is? I am looking for Miss Ruby Little.”
The boys didn’t appear to want to answer her, and then their eyes rose and widened. She knew who they were looking at, and it vexed Tilly that he could get a response from them but she could not.
“There,” one of them said, pointing to a narrow lane on her right. “First building, and take the stairs three stories. It’s number 32.”
Opening her reticule, she was about to give them some coins, when a large, leather-clad hand reached forward and did so first.
“You do not have to be so—so…” She couldn’t find the words.
“Kind?”
She wanted to yell something in his face, but instead, she walked into the street.
A man stepped into her path with a cocky grin on his face. “Hello there, darling. You look like you’re a long way from home?”
“Step aside, if you please.”
“Now don’t be hasty.” He ran a finger down one of Tilly’s cheeks.
Before Ambrose could react, she’d slapped the hand aside, and then she brought up her knee into the man’s groin. “I said, step aside!” She said the words to the top of his head as he was bent in half, groaning. She then stomped in the direction of Flower and Dean Street.
“Well done.”
The deep words came from over her left shoulder. Tilly ignored them, and entered the lane. Reaching the stairs, she started to climb.
“Be alert, Tilly.”
As if she could be anything else with him behind her.
She climbed, passing people on the way and apologizing constantly as she attempted to navigate around them. Finally, Tilly was on the third floor. Walking along the narrow corridor, she studied the numbers on the doors until she found 32. She raised a hand and knocked.
“You’ll stand beside me now, Tilly.”
“I will not.”
Hands lifted her off her feet, and then she was standing a few feet back, beside the large lord seconds later.
“Don’t touch me.”
“If you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have to.”
She heard barking coming from inside, but no footsteps, and so knocked again. After another long wait, finally Tilly heard footsteps and the murmur of words. Then the door opened a few inches, and she saw Ruby.
“Hello, Ruby, it is I, Miss Wilson—Tilly—from The Iris Club. I was worried when you did not arrive to start your position with us and came to check on you.”
The door opened wider, and they got their first good look at Ruby Little. Her jaw was bruised and her hand bandaged. She was pale and swaying on her feet. A growl had Tilly looking down at a large black dog who was not pleased to see them.
“I-I can’t work now,” Ruby whispered.
“What has happened to you?” Tilly demanded.
“He came back,” she whispered, and then her eyes fluttered shut and she slumped to the floor.