Chatter echoed in the hallway, and stifled laughter as he pawed at Anne’s chest to cover up the offending sight. It wasn’t offensive to him, but it was the rest of Whitechapel that he was concerned about.
She swatted him, tumbling backward into the table. He rushed forward with the blanket again, trying to cover her up.
Instead, she kicked him in the shin. “You’re being ridiculous!”
“You cannot leave dressed like that.”
“This is a very nice dress,” Anne answered, leaning around him to address the audience in the hallway. “Thank you again, Sarah,” she shouted. “The color is lovely.”
“Anytime, pet. You’re a picture.”
“She’s good enough to eat,” Lilly shouted back. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Marwick?”
The women chittered, gleeful over his discomfort. He stalked to the door and slammed it shut on a chorus of jeers and giggles.
“Give it to her, Mr. Marwick,” they yelled through the closed door. “It’ll look even better off!”
“Remember what we told you, love,” another yelled.
He spun around to Anne. “What did they tell you?” He raked his hand through his hair, throwing down his cap in defeat. “No, don’t tell me. Forget everything they said and put on another dress.”
“Or what?”
“I won’t let you leave.”
Anne balled the blanket up in her hands. “We need money or I’ll be in the streets at the end of the week.”
“You can always go back to wherever you ran from.” Though he doubted they’d let the devil back into hell.
She walked around him and tossed the blanket back onto the bed. Anne ran a hand over it until the wrinkles were smooth then fluffed the pillow. Watching her in that dress made him too uncomfortable. She was a woman, not a silly society girl.
He preferred to keep it uncomplicated. Not think of her in such a way, as a man thinks of a woman.
“What’s your plan then? I’m sure you can do it without looking like that.”
Anne rolled her eyes until it appeared as if she would fall backward and expire on the floor. Always exaggerating. It was high time he marched her back to where she came from. Having a room was a luxury he had learned to survive without, but sharing a room with someone like Anne wasn’t worth the trouble. There were others who could help pay, others who would not shake his world into chaos and stir him up like Anne. The workhouse had been decent enough.
“Your plan?” One had a way of repeating themselves around Anne. It was an annoying habit of hers to answer only when it served her purpose.
“Well, I won’t be boxing,” she replied. “Although you do look rather sporting.” She stuck her tongue out and made a dash for the door, but he was quicker and held it shut.
“It’s nearly dark.”
Anne peered over his shoulder then met his angry stare. “It appears so.”
Alex threw his head back in a frustrated howl. He knew she wasn’t being daft, just contrary to irk him. “I thought I would try my hand at fighting to earn the extra we needed to cover rent.”
Anne scrunched her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, you proved that you’re not a proficient prizefighter. You scared me returning in the state you did.” She wagged her finger in his face. “I think we both know you would fail at boxing, so that leaves me. Now, if you would move aside, I have to be on my way.”
You scared me. You failed.
If he wasn’t so stunned, he might have caught her as she swooped under his arm and slipped out the door. “Where?” he yelled after her as she rushed down the hallway for the stairs.
“The casino,” she said, taking the first stair. “I’m going to try my hand at cards.”
Bloody. Perfect.
Alex ducked back into their room for his worn coat, then rushed after her. “You’re not going alone,” he said, taking two stairs at a time to catch up.
“Of course I am.” Anne floated into the busy dining room, taking care to evade his reach. “I can’t have you with me, looking like that.”
Alex glanced down at his clothes, confused. He hadn’t the chance to wash, so his hands were still covered in coal dust. He brushed back his hair and tugged at his coat. It would be a cold day in Hell before he allowed her outside, dressed as she was. At night. In Whitechapel, of all places. Dirty hands be damned. Alex sure as hell was going.
“We must make them believe we have money if we are going to be successful at the tables.”
He didn’t want to know how she knew that. Alex grabbed the sash of her dress and hauled her backward, close enough so he could whisper, “That dress isn’t for a wealthy lady.” Anne smelled of roses, even in that dress. Grace personified. He hated her for it.
“It’s a very fine dress.” Her shoulders dropped as she spoke and he knew she agreed. It was remarkable that Anne might not put up a fight for once.
“We can go back upstairs since you agree—”
“Ah, Mr. Brims,” Anne said, forcing Alex to let go before the dress ripped. She walked into the kitchen as families crowded around the table. “That’s a very fine jacket you have.” Anne had Mr. Brims taking it off without complaint and handing it to Alex before he could intervene with her mischief.
“Please allow Mr. Brims to borrow your jacket for the evening.” She turned to Alex with a proud smile. “He’s an honest man,” she pressed when he refused. “And Mr. Brim’s jacket has such beautiful tailoring. It speaks well of how he appreciates your character.”
Alex removed his coat, glaring at Anne. “Compliments won’t change my mind.”
“Anne,” one of the women from upstairs cried. She tore around the corner, rushing into the kitchen. “You’ve forgotten the most important part.”
Anne’s eyes squinted, twinkling with mischief as she sidestepped Alex’s hand once more. “What’s that, Sarah?”
“A lady must always wear a mask.” She tied a black lacy mask over Anne’s face and spun her toward the door. “Now, off with you.”
He didn’t like not being able to see her face. He didn’t like that the mask only added to the purple dress’s luring affect. Anne was a lush invitation waiting to be taken. His stomach tumbled as she licked her lips. He didn’t like that either.
“Well,” Anne said, pushing him forward, “this is a bit better.” She brushed off his shoulders and tugged at the sleeves until she was satisfied with the fit. “Lady Luck awaits. Let’s go.”
Lady Luck waited for no one, spoiled runaways included, but Anne had started off before he could say so.
§
The inner sanctum of men the world over, their precious casinos, were as to be expected. Men were nothing if not predictable creatures.
“Have you thought this through?” Alex asked, leaning close to Minnie.
She smiled at the portly man seated on a burgundy chair, a snifter of brandy in his hand and a cigar in his mouth. Typical.
The scratchy lace cloaking her face made it difficult to see as she twisted around to gaze up at Alex. She was still surprised he was so tall. “I’m here to cover our rent. That should suffice for a plan as well as any.”
He shook his head and crooked his finger, beckoning her closer. She reached up onto her tiptoes, inhaling his soap—oranges and cedar. A small detail she had not noticed until then. One that certainly shouldn’t matter, either.
“Who’ll let me at a table when my hands look like this?”
Minnie dropped to her feet and noticed that she had caught the attention of a few gentlemen. She smiled, then ran her gloved finger down the profile of Alex’s face. “Don’t shy away. You make me look like a terrible paramour.” She bumped his strong chin with her finger.
“Paramour?” He stepped around to face her. “What sort of finishing school did you attend?”
She couldn’t help but smile at that.
“These hands,” he said, lifting them up as if she needed another reminder, “mean I’m a marked thug.”
“You’re
forgetting the current state of your face. You don’t appear like much of a threat.”
“Christ, Anne.” He bit down on his split lip until it started to bleed again. He swiped away the crimson bead with the back of his hand. His eyes softened toward her as she waited for him to finish whatever he was going to say. That was apology enough, the way he gazed down at her. She didn’t want to think about last night, or the three lonely days of his absence. She didn’t want to buckle under such a look and kiss him either. Though kissing him wouldn’t be wholly awful.
“Pick your game, Mr. Marwick. If we keep you out too late, you may turn into a pumpkin.”
His lips brushed her hair as he led them further back into the casino. “If I’m the pumpkin,” he said in a distracting whisper, “then who’s your fairy godmother?” He didn’t allow her to answer. “Anyhow, it’s best if we stay late. We’ll have better odds.”
She pulled at his coat to halt his forward march. It was a much finer wool than she was used to him wearing. His laughter pulled her from her thoughts and she realized, quite embarrassingly, that she had been petting his chest.
Minnie shook her head. “Odds? You’re saying you know something of—” She waved her hand around the casino, “—this?”
“Yes,” he said, mimicking her high pitch and flailing, “I know of this.”
She pushed him behind a marble column to avoid further attention. The less she had to pretend being Alex’s paramour, the better. It was hard enough pretending to be his wife. “There’s no need to be so prickly when I was perfectly willing to come here on my own.”
“That would have been a terrible idea, and you know it.” He stared at her as if he expected her to nod and agree.
Over her dead body. “I wasn’t always at finishing school. I grew up among a lot of men, traveled through a lot of dangerous places.”
He bent forward, his nose brushing her forehead as she played at straightening his collar. “Are you planning to tell me your life story now, Anne?”
She stared at the hollow of his throat, wondering what it would feel like to settle her lips there. It looked like the perfect fit. Her fingers curled tight, cinching the fabric as she drew herself away from such a wicked thought. This was Alex, after all. He was like a rat—give him one crumb and he would beg for more until she found herself back on the doorstop of that awful school. “No,” she finally replied.
“That’s too bad. I was looking forward to being rid of you.”
His words were too soft, spoken too warmly for her to be upset. But they bothered her still for the lie they were.
Her head snapped up to that soft look in his eyes again. Her foot inched forward, ready to stomp on his and break the moment between them, but she thought better of it and sighed instead. “It’s time to show me what you know, Alex.”
§
Alex’s body ached, his mind was fuzzy, and that terrible darkness had wrapped itself around his soul. Alex didn’t want to be chasing after Anne again, but he owed it to her after waking up on the floor earlier that morning, unable to remember the days before.
When he reported to the dock for work, he had been reminded that he no longer held his position as coal backer. He couldn’t remember where he had been, but some of the men cheered when they saw him, making mention of having visited a pub and the fights.
Anne was smart. He was sure she had guessed he had lost his position. She was a bigger person than he was for not mentioning it, though. Her omission didn’t seem much like Anne, but he knew she thought ill of him. The way she danced around him now, taking jabs in their verbal match, was proof enough. He deserved it. Every last insult. The fact that Anne and her belongings remained when he returned that afternoon was a surprise. He would have understood if she had left. But she hadn’t. And that was the confusing bit.
Danny had always been there when it happened to Alex. To deal without him was...
Well, it complicated everything. Why should Alex search for his identity when it was clear he was broken? It seemed that whoever his father was, the measures taken to keep him a secret were more than justified.
Anne was jovial, pulling him along through the illegal casino as though he were no better than a leashed pet. He felt about as jolly as a rabid dog, so that was appropriate enough. He obtained his playing chips and followed her to the tables, steering her away from dice and billiards. It had been a few months, but they would have more luck if he could sit at a poker table.
“Wouldn’t you prefer vingt-et-un?”
“Have some faith,” he said out of the side of his mouth, nodding at the nearly full table of gentlemen before taking a seat.
He threw in a chip, noting the appraising eyes of the other players. Anne tapped her fingers on her teeth as she waited and peered down at the cards being dealt. Her tell would be no help to them if she expected this to be a profitable night. He curled his hand around her arm, sucking in a breath as they touched, and tugged. “Have a seat,” he whispered into her ear. He sucked in another pained breath as she fell into his lap.
Anne played the part of paramour too well. It left a sour taste in his mouth, watching the others eye her, judging her for how she dressed and acted. She thought nothing of her farce. But Alex did. She deserved more.
He needed to confront her soon about her society connections. He had waited too long as it was. She belonged with her family, somewhere safe, gentler. Not sitting in the lap of a thug, playing at a table where the man opposite held a pistol out of view.
The others called, so Alex threw in another chip. Anne wiggled in his lap.
“Stay still,” he snapped into her ear. Alex didn’t appreciate the weight of her against him, the touch of her body against his, the way she still smelled of roses when the rest of the city was rotting around her.
Over the next two hours, Alex watched the table of players and learned their tics. He also eyed the deck, counting in his head, something he had always been able to do, and though he lost a few times, he had won more than their rent for the week. The more time they spent there, the more crowded the casino became. The noise doubled and all Alex wanted to do was return back to his quiet room, crawl onto the floor, and stay there.
The man opposite was growing aggravated by their lucky streak. Anne was charming, annoyingly so, with the rest of the gentlemen, and that only added to the tension rippling through Alex. Her fingers had been playing behind his ear for some time, soothing circles that he resented. There was no place for Anne in his life. He could hurt her. More than anything, he didn’t deserve her. She was a spoiled rich girl playing pretend. She was gambling her young life away. And for what? For a foolish dream? She was a terrible ballerina. A terrible liar as well.
A beautiful liar.
“Stop,” he grumbled. Her nails dug into his neck, tightening. “Stop,” he said again. He tried to focus on the cards but it was impossible with her so near.
She cupped his face and dragged it down to hers. Her hands circled his mouth. “My dress,” she whispered against his lips.
The world bowed, then imploded. It was the closest he had ever been to a woman’s mouth. There had been the girl the brotherhood forced onto him when he was sixteen back in Liverpool, but he was a boy then and they hadn’t exactly kissed. He hated being touched. Even then.
The metallic click of a pistol hammer focused her words. She had no intention of kissing Alex. Not when they were about to be shot.
“Now,” she hissed urgently.
His mind stumbled, sputtering, until he caught up and matched Anne’s quick movements. She kicked her legs out and leaned back into his arms. His fingers dipped below the ridiculously low neckline of her dress and secured the pistol she had hidden there. The metal was searing from her body heat.
Alex didn’t hesitate. He fired a shot to the right of the man’s head into the wall as a warning before all hell broke loose. The other men at the table wrestled the gun out of the surly looking man’s hand before he could fire back. Anne attempted
to untangle herself from Alex to gather up their chips.
Alex glared at her. “I think your fun is done for the evening, darling.”
Chips were mounded high in her cupped hands as she smiled at him, her eyes wide and bright as if they had just robbed the Tower of London. “Darling? You’re going to be civil now, Alex?”
For just a moment, his lips curled into the perfect imitation of a smile.
§
Alex squinted, his finger pointed beneath the string of inky letters. “L-A-D-Y.” Lady.
The door opened and Anne entered, her hair windblown, her face drawn. He held his breath as she walked right by the barre he fashioned her from a piece of scrap he found in an alley by the factory. Anne stopped by the foot of the bed instead. “Hello.” She didn’t wait for his reply, only dumped her things onto the floor and escaped behind the curtain in the corner.
Alex drummed his fingers over the tabletop, looking out onto the street below. It was close to dark, so there wasn’t much to see. That was the problem with autumn. It grew darker quickly and soon half the day was night.
He heard her open the curtain from behind, then the soft intake of breath. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Alex spun in his chair to observe her. Sometime between last evening and the present, she had misplaced her annoying personality for that of a meek mouse. He ducked back behind the paper to avoid the way she looked at him, the way her eyes were rimmed with red.
“I thought it could be useful,” he said at last.
She gathered her dropped belongings, then hung them over the rail he had built for her to practice ballet. Anne didn’t say a word more as she flopped backward onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
A sudden coldness hit his stomach as he digested her reaction. He cleared his throat, then focused on the longest sentence yet. P-R-E...
“What are you doing, anyway?” she asked, sniffing back tears.
She leaned against the table and wiped her face clean with the back of her arm. It was beginning to show that they weren’t eating enough. The few windfalls from the casino had been spent, but foolishly. He didn’t like seeing her so thin.
A Proper Scandal Page 7
