3. The Last Sane Person
THE LAST SANE PERSON
Alex
The envelope in my pocket seemed to weigh like a brick when I hurried out of Harlowe House as fast as possible in case His Lordship changed his mind.
With that money, Darius and I would eat well for two weeks. No, less than that. Darius ate for four.
I cast a last glance at the building; it was a three-storey townhouse with red-brick walls, diamond-paned windows, and a tall wrought-iron fence.
With its frilly curtains and polished front door, it looked like a place where dinner was served at six no matter what happened in the world, a maid would light the fireplaces before dawn, and only polite conversations would be allowed… Where someone returning home would be welcomed with a hug.
“Alex!” Darius came out of a dark corner, sweaty and out of breath. “What happened? I saw that man carrying you to his carriage. I spent my last shillings on a cab to follow you.”
I resumed walking. “I got lucky for once. The man offered me a job, a real one, and gave me some ready.”
“What’s the catch?”
“I can’t steal.”
Annoyance settled in my stomach at the thought of not stealing anymore. It wasn’t that I enjoyed it, but it had its perks. No timetable to follow, plenty of excitement and freedom. Besides, it’d taken me a while to hone my pickpocket skills, and I didn’t want to lose them.
We left the sophisticated Mayfair behind to cross the threshold of the less savoury Whitechapel.
The change of view was staggering. No more elegant houses with glossy black doors and colourful curtains, but sad brick walls, splattered with mud and blood and radiating desperation and unpaid bills.
The smell of dirty clothes and sewer water replaced that of flowers.
Not to mention the not-so-polite yells and loud comments on someone’s mother.
Darius was panting when we stopped at my door. I wheezed too, but the sandwiches had helped me regain energy.
I pushed the door as gently as possible, lest the hinges break, and put the envelope on the scarred table. “Have a look.”
Darius snagged a slice of bread from the basket before looking inside the envelope. “Hell’s bells!”
I hopped onto the table, remembering too late it had a dodgy leg. It quaked, and I jumped off it. “I accepted the job offer, but on second thought, I won’t go.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t see that house.” I envisioned all the precious vases and silver in the sitting room. “I’ll snatch a few things and—”
“No!” He stopped eating, which said something. “You aren’t going to trick a good man who’s giving you a second chance. You’ll do right by him.”
The basket with the bread floated up in the air.
I blinked and rubbed my face. The basket was on the table. “Did you see that?”
“What?” He ate another slice.
“The basket—”
“Don’t change the subject. You aren’t going to trick that man.”
“Are you telling me you didn’t see the basket floating?”
He didn’t even glance at the darn basket. “You hit your head hard. You’re seeing things. Now, I think you should behave and take the job.”
“But…” I scratched my forehead. He might be right about me seeing things. The day had been strange from start to finish, and my head ached. “It’s not by being good that I’ll pay the debt I owe to Riley. He won’t hesitate to slit your throat for good measure if I don’t pay him.” I scoffed, annoyed.
One of the most dangerous thugs with a reputation for enjoying torturing people was breathing down my neck, and Darius wanted me to be good.
Good my arse. Goodness was too expensive.
Riley wouldn’t be the head of a ruthless gang if he were good.
Extortion, protection money, assault, gambling, usury—Riley was a versatile criminal.
“With your salary, we’ll manage.” Darius straightened. “I’ll help. I owe you. When you took me in, you saved my life, Alex.”
I’d found him half dead, soaked with rain as he’d been begging for a shilling on a street corner.
He’d been so weak he hadn’t been able to stand on his feet.
I’d shared my food with him and told him to join me.
I’d almost carried him to my flat so fatigued he’d been.
His permanence in my flat had started as a temporary arrangement, but his good heart had won me over.
“That’s an exaggeration, especially since you’re now one of Riley’s targets because of me.”
“If you hadn’t fed me that night when you found me in the rain, I would be dead,” he said in a solemn tone. “I owe you my allegiance.”
Allegiance? I picked up a wooden spoon and dubbed his shoulders. “Sir Darius Strange, I therefore declare thee a knight of the Order of the Bastards. Rise a knight.”
He laughed, sounding strong and healthy.
I touched the basket to make sure it wasn’t floating. Tricks of a starving mind. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I do.” Darius patted my shoulder. “I’ll find a job at the docks. They’ll give me a few shillings for helping load a cargo ship.”
I didn’t want to be mean, but…I was. “You? Working at the docks? You’ll collapse.”
He tightened the scarf around his neck, half-covering his smirk. “I’ll be careful not to, then.”
I didn’t understand people as of late. Miss Harlowe’s generosity made no sense. Viscount Mansel giving me a job had no rhyme or reason. And Darius, who looked like someone about to kick the bucket from consumption, wanted to pick up one of the most physically exhausting jobs in London.
I was the last sane person in town, which said something about the state of humanity.
Darius took another slice of bread. “Keep the job. It’s safer than stealing.”
That was true. I almost got caught today. And then there was Miss Harlowe. She was the first kind person I’d met in a while. I wouldn’t mind repaying her generosity.
“Fine. I’ll be good.”