A Rogue About Town (London League, Book 2)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Of course, neither of them had ever matched what Trace had been able to do when he’d been with them, but he had been a rare operative.

  Gabe leaned his head back against the chair with a wince. It had been over three years since that night on the docks, and still, the pain of it lanced his heart. Trace, known to the world as Alexander Sommerville, had been almost a brother to him, as well as his cousin. His deep-seated investigations into the underworld of London’s shipping industry had been deemed too dangerous for any of them to take on. But Alex had insisted and gone ahead with it anyway. He was always taking the most impossible assignments and somehow made them less impossible.

  Had he seen the dangers that night before the rest of them had? Did he have a sense that he might not survive the skirmish?

  Whatever it was, they had all been caught unawares, and Gabe, for one, had never let it go. He doubted Gent or Cap had either, and certainly Eagle and those above him were still looking, but with all that England had to contend with, the death of one operative, no matter how it came about, was really not that shocking. Never mind that Trace had saved the lives of every Shopkeeper singlehandedly at least once. Never mind that Trace had never been caught until the day he died. Never mind that…

  Well, Gabe’s temper was his weakness, and nothing like reliving that night could ignite it.

  Ever since then, he avoided any situations that did not feel right. His instincts had been well-honed, and danger would not dissuade him. But neither was he as reckless as he had been when they’d all seemed invincible.

  They now had proof that they were no such thing.

  Nothing scared a man so completely as proof of his own mortality.

  Nevertheless, it was now Gabe who saw to the darker sides of London, and well did it suit him. His ledgers of various gambling losses and debts were growing more and more complicated, though how he would explain that to Coin when he required additional funding for his efforts, he had no clue.

  Coin was meticulous with his budgetary allowances, and Gabe’s reckless ways had earned him more than one lecture on the subject. But as he had not heard any reprimand from the superiors, he was not inclined to change his behavior.

  As they had no answers for why Trace had met his end the way he had, Gabe was not satisfied with anything surrounding those events, or that investigation. At times, he was literally itching with the need to go over every aspect of the events, the investigation that led to it, and his cousin’s personal life. Anything that could help them find the closure they lacked.

  He would much rather be doing that than sorting out long-lost fathers, who probably did not exist, and entertaining high and mighty misses with misplaced indignation. But instinct told him to watch her closely, and he would not have been surprised if she might have several ulterior motives to working with him and with their task.

  A knock at his office door shook him from his reverie, and he glanced up in surprise. Eagle leaned against the doorframe easily, his lined face looking stark and aged against the faint light of the candles.

  Gabe jumped to his feet in surprise. “Sir.”

  Eagle smiled a little, inclining his silver head and gesturing at him as he pushed off and entered the room. “Sit, sit, Rogue, for heaven’s sake.”

  Gabe did so a bit awkwardly. Eagle rarely came to the offices anymore unless they sent for him, and their meetings with him elsewhere were never in the same place.

  Come to think of it, Gabe had no idea where Eagle spent most of his time or what exactly he did.

  That was probably the point.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked as he observed the older man respectfully.

  Eagle snorted softly. “Am I the only man on this earth that you refer to as ‘sir’?”

  “Yes,” Gabe said with marked frankness.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “You’re the only one who deserves it. Is there something you need?”

  One side of Eagle’s mouth lifted, tugging at the faintest scar there. “No, nothing. I merely came by to see how things were progressing. I am surprised to find anyone here at all, given the late hour.”

  Gabe glanced out of the window briefly. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

  Eagle made a noncommittal noise. “Busy, are you?”

  “I suppose,” he answered slowly. He looked up at his mentor, and then managed a sheepish smile. “The cover of my being an investigator is becoming a thriving business in and of itself.”

  That drew a wry chuckle from the older man. “I wondered about that.”

  “I’m just too sought after,” Gabe said with a heavy sigh. “Most of the tasks are simple enough, but all are time-consuming, and I find I am always attempting to catch up on the more important matters.”

  “To the mother that has lost him, the missing child is the more important matter,” Eagle replied, his tone off-hand, but his expression severe. “Even if he is in a bakery.”

  Gabe barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes. “Yes, sir. But if I am to keep an eye on the usual gambling rings and somehow infiltrate the ones near the docks, I need time and preparation to do so. At present, I have neither.”

  Eagle crossed an ankle over his knee and tilted his head. “Feeling at odds, are you, Rogue?”

  “A bit,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head. “I think one of my contacts might have information on the guns for the faction, but it has been difficult to have much contact of late.”

  Eagle nodded slowly, watching him, but making no reply. He did that quite often, somehow managing to draw out the information he desired with just a look. That was a skill that Gabe could use, but it would probably only come when he’d had the years of experience that Eagle had accumulated. He’d seen the revolution and several skirmishes, that much everybody knew, but what exactly Eagle had been or done when he’d been in the field himself was completely unknown.

  Gabe had even snuck into the dossier files to see what lay within, and Eagle’s file had been suspiciously devoid of detail.

  Maddening life, spycraft.

  “I think, Rogue,” Eagle finally said with a sigh, “that you have learned your lesson. You may cease to be such a popular figure now.”

  That caught his attention. “Truly?”

  There came a sage nod and a faint smile. “Finish up whatever your case-load happens to be at present, and then turn your attention to the ‘more important matters’, as you called them.”

  Gabe winced a little, wondering if he would be hearing that phrase regularly from now on. “I didn’t mean…”

  “Oh, please, Rogue,” Eagle interrupted with a laugh. “I know you well enough to know that family ties barely exist for you, and you’d sever what you could if you were not so secretly fond of your aunt.”

  That, at least, was true and made him smile. “I would like to see you try to cut ties with Aunt Geraldine, sir.”

  There was a brief flash of a devious grin that made Gabe widen his eyes and his stomach clench. Could the Eagle, with all his past and everything he had done, know his aunt personally?

  That was startling on far too many levels to contemplate further.

  “All I meant, sir,” he said quickly, desperate to move away from that particular topic, “is that I am a spy, and I should like to get back to what it is I was trained for.”

  “I understand, Rogue.” He smiled for a second, then let it fade, his eyes clouding in thought. “On the other hand…”

  “Don’t say it,” Gabe groaned, putting his face into one hand.

  “The cover must remain intact, and it is difficult to pose as a group of investigators when there are no investigations.” Eagle continued, musing.

  Gabe put his head down on his desk. “Please, no…”

  “Maybe we should keep you on.” There was a long pause that Gabe did not acknowledge, keeping his face pressed into the wood. “But…”

  Gabe raised his head at the small word, drawn out as it was.

  Eagle seemed a
mused by his distress. “We can take everything through your clerks, now that you have two, and anything truly requiring the skills of you four can be brought to you. Otherwise, Hobbs and Doyle can handle it.”

  Gabe sat back, sighing heavily. “Thank you.” Then he frowned. “Wait, are those their names?”

  Eagle looked surprised. “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head, not bothering to pretend at guilt that he did not feel. “We don’t use names here, so we haven’t learned theirs. Unless you’ve told them to me just now.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, if I wanted to call them One and Two…?” Gabe asked slowly.

  Eagle folded his arms, shrugging. “Just do it by seniority to avoid confusion. Do they mind not having names?”

  Gabe grinned freely. “One doesn’t. Two very much does. But he is new, he’ll figure it out.”

  Eagle nodded, then shook his head with a smile. “I envy you all down here.”

  Gabe snorted and laced his fingers behind his head. “Why?”

  “Freedom and ignorance,” Eagle said, his smile fading. “You think you know the evils of the world, the burdens that it bears, but your view is so limited. Wider than the average person, I grant you,” he allowed when Gabe made a noise, “but limited all the same. And you all have such energy, your wits are sharp, and the adventure still calls.”

  Gabe did not like the sudden melancholy turn of this conversation, and he straightened. “Eagle, is there something that I need to…”

  Eagle shook his head quickly. “No, no, my boy, not at all. I am merely feeling my age. That happens when you retire from the field. Even in the administration, the work is just as taxing. And I am tired.”

  That did not make him feel any better. Eagle had somehow taken an interest in Gabe from the first, and he was quite sure that no one else could have convinced him to come into the life of a spy, let alone work in the London League. Talk of his leaving, or any other unpleasant topic surrounding him, made him very uneasy.

  “Maybe you should take Two with you, then,” Gabe suggested, trying to lighten the moment. “You could call him by his proper name, whatever it is, and he could take some of the burdens from your shoulders. Lord knows you’ve done enough for your country to earn a reprieve.”

  Eagle laughed knowingly. “If you knew all that I had done, Rogue, you would not send someone as inexperienced as Two to me. Give him your tasks, not mine. Far simpler and easier to manage.”

  “As it happens,” Gabe protested, “I have just one task right now.”

  “Two will be much relieved by so light an assignment,” Eagle said as he pushed to his feet.

  Gabe rose as well, his brow furrowing. “Actually, I think I will keep that one.”

  Eagle paused. “Indeed? Something of interest?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Gabe admitted. “It could be. It doesn’t add up, and the client… Well, she could be more than what she seems. I don’t trust her.”

  Eagle clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Then keep it, by all means. And perhaps bring Rook in on it. He’ll need something to do.”

  “Where is Rook, anyway?” Gabe asked, more curious than caring. “I haven’t seen him in at least a week, and it’s not even my birthday.”

  “Tending the flowers,” Eagle replied with a sober air, even as he smiled. “It was his turn. He’ll be here in the morning.”

  Gabe’s curiosity vanished, as did any sense of teasing. There was one assignment in the League they all shared and did so without complaint, protest, or thinking. When they had lost Trace, and it became clear they were not going to get him back, his last will and testament had been brought out. The real version, rather than the official one his solicitor would have, instructed his brothers to be sure to tend the flowers.

  Cryptic, even in official documentation, but Alex had trusted no one. It had been clear to them, however, what his wishes were.

  Off in a quiet corner of Cheshire was a young woman by the name of Poppy Edgewood, and she had lost as much as they had on that night, if not more, in a way. She had been the heart that beat within Alex’s chest, and it was very like him to assign her care to them in his absence, to see that she was looked after, even if he could not do it himself.

  So, every other month, or thereabouts, one of them would vanish for a small portion of time to ‘tend the flowers’, and though none of them had met Poppy face to face, they knew quite a lot about her, her dealings, and how things fared with her. She was the most well-protected woman in England, Gabe had no doubt.

  And she had no idea.

  “Stay close to your instincts, Rogue,” Eagle said, bringing him back to the present. “They will do you credit.” Then he patted his shoulder once. “Except for the time with the fire.”

  “Once!” Gabe protested as Eagle left the room. “One time!”

  “Never again, Rogue!” Eagle called, laughing.

  “It’s not funny,” Gabe muttered, shaking his head. He moved back to his desk and gathered the materials he would need to look over before returning in the morning. Some men, like Cap, never took their work home with them. But Cap had a family, and Gabe had no one. His work was his life, and what was more, he enjoyed it.

  What would Aunt Geraldine say should she discover that Gabe enjoyed anything at all?

  He grunted to himself as he shrugged into his jacket. He was due at her house for dinner soon, and that would mean dress clothes. Houser would not appreciate that. He rather enjoyed being more of a butler and less of a valet. But as he was also a footman and had never been trained in any of the duties of anything he did, he was mostly grateful to be earning a respectable wage. It had taken years to pull Houser up to snuff, but there was not much else to do when the reformed criminal owed Gabe his life. Gabe had told him ages ago that there was no debt owed, secretly wishing to be rid of anyone who thought well of him, but Houser insisted that what honor he did have he meant to keep.

  Gabe hadn’t been able to shake him for six years, and now he was rather used to the scraggly old fool. He had a limited enough staff as it was, and simple bachelor quarters did not require more.

  Now, if he were to ever take up residence at Whitleigh, his family home on Oxfordshire, he would have a great deal more to contend with. The place was a mausoleum, and it would take a sizable staff just to run it. As it was now, there was nothing and no one within. Unless some stray creatures had taken up residence, or local vagabonds found a hidden entrance.

  The entail on it was too tight to break, but as Gabe had no use for it, there was no sense in spending the money he did not have on a place he did not need.

  Much to Aunt Geraldine’s dismay.

  The soft knock on the back door brought him up, and he gathered his things, blew out the candles, and made his way in the dark for it.

  A small girl with dark eyes and tattered clothing sat on the step and beamed up at him when he exited.

  “Daisy,” he greeted, smiling against his will. “Ready to go home?”

  She nodded and rose, stepping back to let him lock up. Then she took his proffered hand and let him lead.

  “How was your mark today?” Gabe asked, shaking her hand a little.

  “All right,” she replied, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “’e don’t do much, and nobody’s been to visit for ages excepting the bat, but ‘e don’t ever see ‘er. She cursed somefink horrid today. I watched the ‘orses mostly. Fink Gent’ll let someone jus’ watch the street soon? It’s boring, now Miss Margaret’s safe.”

  Gabe chuckled, amused by the dramatic tone she had taken. “Perhaps. Anything exciting happen?”

  Daisy shrugged, rubbing a grubby hand across her nose. “Robbie thrashed Frank again, but Jamie put a stop to it. Molly weaseled a luncheon out of ol’ Mrs. Lynch wif some tears, and I got a sixpence.”

  “Sixpence?” Gabe asked with a smile. “How did you manage that?”

  “Pre
tty lady came down the street an’ smiled at me. Then she gave me sixpence and a wink.” Daisy looked up at him with a frown. “She came this way, come to fink. You see a lady in a brown coat and stained glove?”

  Gabe barely managed not to jerk the small hand in his surprise. “Chestnut hair? Cheap boots?”

  “Tha’s the one.” Daisy reached into her pocket and held up the coin. “Sixpence.”

  Gabe smiled, despite his now rampant curiosity. Miss Berger must have lodgings in this direction. Well, well, he could certainly do something with that.

  “Hide that from your father, Mouse,” Gabe warned. “You know what he’ll do if he finds it.”

  Daisy shoved it back into her pocket. “Aye, same as ‘e’d do if ‘e found the rest. But ‘e won’t find ‘em. ‘e’s too drunk to see ‘is toes.”

  Gabe felt a jolt of pain in his gut. No girl of seven should have to have such a harsh understanding of the world, nor of her father, the only parent she had. Daisy was being raised by her associates in Gent’s passel of children, and by the London League themselves, if he were to be honest. He hadn’t meant to take an interest in any of the urchins, but somehow Daisy had managed to become something to him. Just what, he couldn’t say.

  But a few nights a week he walked her home, and they had fallen into a comfortable routine that was their own little secret.

  Well, Gent probably knew, but he hadn’t said anything. He suspected he might have a great deal to say once the glow of love and new marriage faded.

  They approached the docks and the residences nearby, only for loud and unmistakably intoxicated shouts to meet their ears. Daisy moaned softly and moved a little closer to Gabe, her eyes somber.

  Gabe looked towards the closest rooms, lit within despite the filth on the windows and the shape of a man pacing could be seen.

  He might be a rogue with no honor and a man without manners, but even he was not heartless.

  “Tell you what, Mouse,” he said, turning away and tugging her along. “You stay elsewhere tonight. Tilda or me?”