Chapter 10 #2
“Freddie, this is…” She frowned and tipped her head to one side, staring at Theo in a silent demand he speak his name.
“Saltkill. Jonathan Saltkill.”
“Freddie Simpson.”
Theo’s jaw clenched the moment he heard the man’s name. Simpson. This was the man Ellerbie had introduced Val to before the earl had taken on a supervisory position in the foreign section’s home office. Almost as if he sensed Theo’s sudden uneasiness, a slow smile curved Simpson’s lips.
It was a feral smile that raised the hairs on the back of Theo’s neck as they shook hands.
There was something insidious about this man.
Theo hadn’t questioned Val’s opinion that Simpson was dangerous.
But until now, he’d not understood just how serious a threat the man was.
This man would have no problem killing when he wanted, and from the looks of him, he’d enjoy it.
Theo’s mouth went dry with fear as he shifted his gaze from Simpson to Genevieve and then back to Simpson.
“What do you do for a living, Saltkill?”
“I work down on the docks,” Theo replied quietly.
“Your hands aren’t those of a dock worker.” Simpson arched a skeptical eyebrow.
“I’m the office manager for a merchant, verifying cargo that comes into port and out.”
“Interesting, “Simpson drawled. “What merchant?”
“Melton Imports. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
In the back of his mind, he shouted his gratitude to the almighty that his father had listened to him and invested in a shipping import business two years ago. Not only had the business started to show nice profits, but something told Theo the business had just saved his life tonight.
“Hmm, no, but then I don’t know all the merchants along the dock. I don’t suppose they’re hiring?”
“Not that I know of. The owner treats his employees well, so it’s rare anyone leaves.” Theo’s casual shrug made it clear the man wasn’t going to find any position available. “But you can always swing by and ask.”
“I’ll do that.” Simpson studied Theo for a moment, then turned his head to look down at Genevieve. “Well, love, what will be your poison tonight?”
“Actually, the lady and I were about to have a drink.” Theo’s firm statement made Simpson narrow his gaze at him.
“Were you now?” There was a note of amused contempt in the man’s smooth voice as he arched an eyebrow at Theo.
“We were.”
Despite his irritation, he managed to keep his tone even, but forceful. The last thing he wanted to do was let Genevieve spend any length of time with this snake. Beside the tall, lanky man, she straightened her shoulders, directing an icy look in Theo’s direction.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said with antipathy, then turned to Simpson. “Come, Freddie. I want to hear all about your visit to the Continent.”
“And I am happy to tell you everything, my pet.”
With a sneer in Theo’s direction, the man turned his attention to Genevieve, and with his hand on her elbow, he guided her to an empty table next to Teasdale.
Angry frustration tightened his muscles as he watched Genevieve walk away with Simpson.
Turning back to the bar, he saw the bartender eyeing him with sympathy.
“Sorry, mate. I don’t know what women see in him, especially Ginny. For a woman, she’s got a good head on her shoulders.” The barkeep shrugged and shook his head in obvious disgust. “But when Simpson comes in here, she’s just like all the others. She makes a beeline for the bastard.”
“He come in here a lot?” Theo asked with suppressed fury and more than a hint of jealousy.
“Aye, more than I likes. The man has a habit of causing trouble. I’ve seen him come close to killing a man just for saying the wrong thing. He’s bad news, that one is. ”
“What does he do?” Theo asked as he glanced over his shoulder at the man whose head was bent toward Genevieve.
“Don’t really know.” The bartender frowned for a long moment. “I ain’t heard him mention anything, but someone said they’d seen him with several toffs. Could be he does some sort of investigating, maybe?”
Theo’s hand cramped around the mug of ale he was holding.
Toffs, so Simpson was meeting with either a nobleman or someone of similar social status.
Theo looked over his shoulder again as he heard Genevieve laugh.
What was it she’d said as she’d drawn the man away from him?
The Continent. Genevieve had asked Simpson to tell her about his trip across the Channel.
Theo took another swig of ale, his anger easing as he contemplated why the man would have crossed the Channel.
Where had Simpson gone? More importantly, who had he met with?
In the wall mirror behind the bar, Theo saw Teasdale finish his ale, then gesture to the barkeep for another.
Simpson turned his head toward the man and said something to the agent.
Teasdale frowned as if surprised, then with a shrug he picked up his mug and strolled toward the bar.
“Who owns this pub, Smitty? You or that smug son-of-a-bitch who likes to tell people what to do in here,” Teasdale grumbled as he set his empty mug down on the bar.
Eyeing the barkeep with irritation, he jerked his head toward where Simpson and Genevieve were seated.
“Every time he comes in here, he causes trouble.”
“The man has friends,” the barkeep said quietly. “And I don’t need enemies like Simpson’s friends. They’re a sorry lot of scum, but I’d like to keep me life and me pub.”
The pub owner’s words made Theo arch an eyebrow as he glanced at Teasdale then studied the barkeep with curiosity.
“Do you know who they are?”
“No, and I don’t wanna know,” Smitty bit out in a low voice as he darted a look toward Simpson and Genevieve.
“Several months ago Freddie was in here with one of them. A sailor got a nasty gash just below his neck after interrupting them. But the man didn’t miss Duggin’s throat by accident.
He knew exactly what he was doing with that switchblade.
He came close enough to the poor devil’s throat to make it clear Duggin’s was lucky to be alive.
The bastard could have just as easily sliced the sailor’s throat if he wanted to. It was a warning, plain and simple.”
The moment the barkeep described the manner in which the sailor had been attacked, Theo stiffened. Was it possible one of Simpson’s friends was the spy they were looking for? Taking a swallow of his ale, Theo studied the pub owner as the man wiped down the bar.
“What did the man with the blade look like?” Theo asked, and the barkeep lifted his head to meet Theo’s gaze with surprise. Aware he’d stirred the pub owner’s curiosity, Theo shrugged. “I’d like to avoid someone who’s that handy with a knife.”
“Tall, somewhat thin, but he didn’t fit in here. He was a bit too much like a toff if ye ask me.”
“A toff? Here?” Teasdale snapped, his manner that of a man thoroughly disgusted. “Was he one of those cocksuckers who comes into the East End slumming? Seeing how bad the rest of us have it?”
“Maybe,” Smitty said with a contemplative frown that changed to one of anger. “He wasn’t dressed like one of those nabobs, but if ye put the bugger in fine clothes, he’d likely blend in well enough.”
Theo struggled to keep from turning his head toward Teasdale as a small rush of excitement sped through him. Instead, he finished off his ale, and setting it down on the bar, he wiped his mouth dry.
“Well, I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open the next time I drop in. I don’t want to find myself lying in the street with my throat cut.”
The somber note in his voice made both Teasdale and the barkeep nod their understanding.
Theo pulled a few coins from his pocket as he studied Genevieve fawning over Simpson.
Even though he knew it was all an act, he didn’t like the way she appeared to be hanging onto the man’s every word.
A quiet chuckle echoed out of the bartender.
“She’s hooked ye good, ain’t she.”
“I enjoy a challenge,” Theo said quietly, knowing a Rockwood never refused a challenge. He met Smitty’s gaze and threw the coins onto the bar. “And the woman is definitely that.”
The barkeep chuckled, then turned toward Teasdale as the other man ordered another ale.
With one last glance toward Genevieve’s reflection in the mirror, Theo strode out of the pub.
He walked down the deserted street at a leisurely pace, but remained close to the shadows.
A few women peddling their wares strolled toward him, but Theo waved them away.
The moment he reached the end of the street, Theo turned the corner, then hurried his way around the block to enter the darkness of the alley that was almost directly across from the Fox and Hound.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d have to wait for Genevieve to emerge from the pub, but he wasn’t moving from this spot until she did.
Theo wasn’t willing to wait on Teasdale to follow her out of the pub, especially if Simpson followed Genevieve.
While Theo knew Genevieve had read Val’s reports where Simpson was mentioned, the one thing she didn’t know was that the man who’d killed Peter was friends with Simpson.
This new piece of information changed everything.
Somehow, he needed to convince Genevieve not to come back into the East End.
How in the hell he was going to do that?
He had no idea, and he wasn’t optimistic about his success in his task.
He also wanted to forbid her to speak with Simpson ever again. A pointless effort for certain. Genevieve would do as she liked when it came to taking orders from him. There had to be something he could say or do that would keep her out of the East End, but what that was, he had no idea.
A mere second later, a voice in the back of his head whispered a reckless option. Theo stiffened at the idea, then crushed the thought. If he forced her hand by letting them be caught in a compromising position, she’d have no choice but to marry him. And she’d hate him for it.