Daisy did not bother to hide her relief as she grinned up at him. “Anywhere!” she gushed. “Fanks, Rogue!”
He couldn’t help it; he smiled back at her. “My pleasure, Mouse. How about staying with me tonight? Tilda has her hands full with the rest, and Houser wants a rematch.”
Daisy sniffed as she shuffled along beside him. “Fine, but ‘e cheats, and badly.”
“Don’t tell him that, he thinks he’s a cardsharp, and we must let him have his pride.”
Daisy’s giggles lit the London night, and Gabe found far too much delight in it, but he couldn’t bring himself to live up to his name or his nature.
Just this once
Chapter Four
"That’s ten pounds, Miss Berger.”
Amelia glared at the coarse-faced woman holding out her hand. “Mrs. Jenkins, when I began lodging here two weeks ago, you clearly told me five.”
“Mayhap I’ve changed me mind.”
Amelia made a soft tutting noise as she turned to check her hair in the mirror. “That would be very poor business. And when my uncle, Lord Farley, returns from his time in the Indies and inquires as to my venture into London’s temporary lodgings and the report for the Housing Board, I shall have far more to tell him than I thought.” She quirked her brows and waited as the woman started sputtering, her already red face turning a more frightening shade.
“Four pounds, Miss Berger,” Mrs. Jenkins said quickly, backing out of the room. “For my mistaken calculations. At your convenience, of course.”
She closed the door with just as much efficacy as she had escaped, and Amelia smiled to herself as she finished preparing for the day. She’d become so adept at lying, it was a bit shameful. But ever so much fun.
She glanced at her reflection in the small and poorly-cleaned mirror, made a face at how drawn she looked, and then collected her borrowed valise of belongings and materials. It was reasonably light, but there was far too much for the small reticule she had. She shifted her grip on it, made her way out of the boarding house, and down the busy street.
It was earlier than she’d been told to arrive, but she was not about to dally around with nothing to do but wait, and she was anxious to see what Rogue could make of her lists.
And she wanted to know what he did when confronted with the unexpected and complete defiance of his dictates. She wanted to rile him. Typically, she was not so inclined, but something about him just made her want to poke and prod and see what would happen.
She’d been awake much of the night as she went over her own notes of the situation, everything she knew, which was not much, and what little belonged to her that might offer some indication of a direction, at least.
She did not have much to lose but time. And her lodgings. Mrs. Jenkins’ boarding house was not exactly ideal, but Amelia had seen far worse, and she would stay as long as she could. She had not lied to Rogue, she did have the funds to pay him. But she did not have much more than that. She had his fifty, as he had ordered, and the rest was safely hidden away, as she did not trust Mrs. Jenkins to not have the room thoroughly searched and put back together during her absence. She only hoped that Rogue was not going to charge her additional measures on top of the two hundred pounds for whatever expenses they might accrue from this mad venture. She could never manage it.
It had been hard enough to raise decent funds to employ anybody.
She shivered as she recalled her more harrowing moments while earning money. It was astonishing that she was still alive and sentient this day.
But she was beyond that now, and she was not about to consider herself a victim of anything but the man who could have saved them both. She did not want sympathy, she wanted retribution. She wanted to know, for herself, if her life could have been more than what it was. If there was a chance of that, she wanted the man who had rid her of that chance to pay for it.
Her mother was another complaint, but one that grew more dim and distant with time, as much as she hated to admit it. She had very few pleasant memories of her mother and even fewer that she could remember clearly. All she had in her past was hardship, depression, and wondering if this was the day she would be an orphan. In truth, she had been an orphan since that day they’d left the cottage in Surrey.
Amelia Tribbett had been on her own since the age of eight, mother or no mother.
She glanced around the busy street, wondering if any of her old comrades were still about. London’s children were a unique blend, and she had learned much from her time among them. It was how she had survived, and she would not be the woman she was today without them, for good or evil. She also would not have at least a third of her vocabulary if not for them.
That made her smile.
The streets of London were easy to navigate if one knew them well enough, which, thankfully, she did, although she had never been to the small side street that Rogue and his associates worked out of. It seemed strange to admit that, given how much she had traipsed about, but it was the truth.
And she had never heard of him before the other day. Gent, she had heard of, as had everyone with ears in the last decade or so, but never Rogue.
But then, she had never been one for gossip anyway.
She entered the narrow street with a smile on her face, despite the dismal prospect before her. It was a sunny day in London, which did not happen enough for it to not feel new every time, and something about Rogue’s surliness and reputation for success gave her hope.
Of all impossible things.
She knocked on the innocuous door to the office, and it was quick to open, with the dark-haired, easily-distressed young man greeting her with a simple nod.
“Come in, Miss Berger,” he said in a clipped tone, stepping back.
She inclined her head as she stepped past him and took in their almost cramped front room. The other clerk, a scrawny, ginger-haired man with spectacles, looked irritated beyond belief as he sat at his desk, furiously scribbling away.
There was no sign of the pretty blonde maid from the day before, and Amelia could not tell if that was a good thing or bad.
The dark clerk gestured towards the hall and then glared at his colleague with such venom that Amelia nearly laughed.
“Thank you,” she told him with a smile. “I know the way.”
He nodded and turned back to his desk.
“Rogue’s not expecting you yet,” the other said in a surprisingly polite tone, not looking up. “Perhaps you would care to wait?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” she replied, continuing on towards the offices.
The scratching pen stopped, and she glanced over her shoulder to see both men staring at her in a sort of horror.
She gave them a small smile and a half wink. “Gentlemen.”
They began whispering to each other the moment she moved again, their previous trouble apparently forgotten.
Amelia paused before the closed door and tilted her head at it, wondering if she was feeling polite enough to knock.
She was not.
She pushed open the door to his office with a flourish. “Mr. Rogue, I have come for my appointment.”
Rogue was bending over his desk, poring over documents with a gentleman with hair the color of aged gold. Nearby was another man, one who actually looked like a rogue, despite his equally common clothing, with his finely chiseled Roman features and dark hair. She imagined many going weak at whatever smile he might possess.
He and the other two stared at her in surprise, and she simply folded her hands before her, waiting.
Rogue dropped his head, exhaling sharply. “Miss Berger, did I not say ten after twelve?”
“You did,” she confirmed with a prim nod.
He looked back at her, his features tightening. “Then why the devil are you here almost an hour before that appointed time?”
Amelia fought a smile, and she knew that he saw. “I felt we would both be anxious to begin.”
“You were wrong,” he snapped, straightening to
his full height. “And what in hell gives you the presumption to barge in here, and…”
“Rogue,” the taller man next to him said in a low voice, his gaze on Amelia.
Rogue instantly closed his mouth, though she had no doubt he was still railing inside his head, as his throat remained taut and his eyes spoke of his fury.
The handsome one apart from them looked between Rogue and Amelia with interest. “Friend of yours, Rogue?” he finally asked in a would-be innocent tone.
Rogue flicked a seething glance at him that drew forth a grin.
The man pushed off from the wall and came to Amelia. “Miss Berger, was it?”
Amelia nodded, holding out her hand.
He took it and bent to kiss it with some gallantry, turning that grin of his up at her. “A pleasure. You may call me Rook.” He kissed her hand again, then stepped back, watching her with a certain measure of amusement.
Amelia raised a brow, unable to resist smiling back. “Are you sure your name shouldn’t be Rogue?”
Rook laughed warmly and winked at her. “If only, Miss Berger.” He turned a little and nodded at Rogue. “Him you already know, but the rather respectable and somber one over there currently wondering why he ever brought me on is Cap.”
Cap exhaled with a measure of exaggerated patience that confirmed Rook’s claim and inclined his head. “Miss Berger.” He looked at Rogue briefly, then back at her. “I trust Rogue is meeting your needs adequately.”
Amelia had a sense that she ought not to tease this one as she had Rook, nor should she provoke him as she would Rogue. “He is thus far, yes, Cap. Sir.”
He almost seemed to smile but did not manage it. “No need to ‘sir’ me, Miss Berger.”
“Is there not?” she murmured, her eyes flicking to Rogue automatically.
Rogue said nothing.
Amelia looked back to Cap, raising her chin a little. “I have only just begun my association with Rogue, sir, and so I cannot honestly say if my needs are being met adequately. But I have no reason to doubt they will be.”
Cap inclined his head, then clapped Rogue on the back. “Thank you for the update, Rogue. I will leave you to get started with Miss Berger.”
Rogue murmured something that sounded suspiciously like “Must you?” as Cap nodded at Rook and the two moved to exit the room.
Amelia threw a frown at Rogue, which made Rook chuckle and wink at her.
“No eavesdropping, Rook!” Rogue yelled as they closed the door. “I mean it!”
Rook replied with something in another language that made Rogue snarl, and he flung himself into the chair by his desk, shaking his head.
Amelia took a seat herself, allowing a small smile to grace her lips. “Shall we begin?”
He gave her a look. “By all means, begin.”
“Such politeness,” Amelia commented with a soft clucking as she reached for her valise. “And after I’ve met your pleasant colleagues?”
“If you want to work with them, be my guest,” he snapped. “In the meantime, stop wasting my time.”
Amelia was not about to shift her case to the others, not when she had heard so much to Rogue’s credit. No one had ever said he would be respectful or pleasant, so she did not have much to complain about. Beggars could not be choosers, after all.
She nodded firmly and opened the valise, reaching within. “First things first.”
She put the requested fifty pounds on his desk with a bit of force, meeting his eyes. “Money, as requested.”
He inclined his head and pulled the notes from beneath her hand pointedly. He shuffled through them, made a face of satisfaction, then folded them and shoved them into his trousers. “Good. Next.”
That was all she was to expect? Well, this was going to prove a fascinating venture, if she was the only one that would be doing anything.
Amelia exhaled. “You asked for a list.”
Rogue nodded. “I did.”
She waited to see if he would tell her more, give her some indication of what he wanted her to do with it, but there was nothing in his gaze except expectation and growing impatience.
She produced the two full sheets that made up every person of significance she had ever met in her entire life and any information she had with regards to her parents’ past.
It was not much, but it represented her life, so there was undoubtedly some hidden significance with that irony.
Rogue snapped his fingers and held out his hand, flexing his fingers.
Amelia had already been in the process of handing the papers over, but now she held them back. “Excuse me,” she said slowly, blinking as if she had missed something. “Did you just… snap at me?”
Rogue only looked mildly sardonic. “I might have done.”
Amelia frowned and narrowed her eyes. “I am not a dog. You will not do that again.”
He shrugged. “I might, if I think it will accomplish what I wish. I live by no rules, Miss Berger, except those of self-preservation and self-interest.”
Amelia watched him for a moment, waiting for him to change his statement, to give her some sign that he might actually possess some sort of a heart.
The evidence did not present itself.
“Well,” she replied with a sniff, holding the papers just out of his reach, “in the interest of self-preservation, do not snap at me. Ever.”
Impossibly, that seemed to amuse him. “Duly noted, Miss Berger. Now, the list, if you please.”
She gave it to him and waited for the criticism to start.
It did not take long.
“Why have you not listed any of your family on here?” he asked, brow furrowed as he scanned the paper.
“I have,” she told him, rising and coming around the desk. She leaned over and pointed. “Here.”
“Mary Palmer?” He glanced up at her. “And yet your name is Berger?”
Amelia shrugged. “I adopted my uncle’s surname when he took me in, but my mother’s name was Palmer.”
He sat back, nodding as he looked at the list. “Before or after she married your father?”
“I don’t think there ever was a marriage.”
That brought Rogue’s head up, and he shook it slowly. “Do you have any idea how complicated this will be without a marriage?”
Amelia gave him a tight smile. “Why do you think I raised two hundred pounds for the effort?”
He shook his head again. “We will need every bit of it.”
Amelia said nothing but smiled.
“I can hear you smiling,” he muttered. “Stop.”
“I can’t,” she said, shrugging again. “You said ‘we’. It’s the first time you’ve said as much.”
Rogue exhaled noisily and set the paper down. “Miss Berger, for someone who claimed to be without sentiment, that is a remarkably sentimental observation. If you continue to behave that way, you will not only put me in a foul temper but make this entire venture a much more painful process.”
“A foul temper,” Amelia mused. “What would that be like?”
Rogue gave her a telling look. “You do not want to know.” He looked back at the list and hummed softly. “Why is your uncle not on here?”
“My uncle?” she asked, frowning as she looked over his shoulder.
“Your uncle whose name you took when he took you in,” he recited with more than a touch of condescension. “By your account, his last name should be Berger.”
Amelia swallowed, closing her eyes at her blunder. “My uncle is married to my mother’s sister and has a very poor memory. His wife has little recollection of her sister, and so there is not much use there. As such, I did not think they would be of much use to us.”
“Convenient,” Rogue mumbled under his breath. He sat forward and ran his finger down the list. “Surrey and London? You’ve not gone far in your life.”
“Far enough,” Amelia said in a dark tone before she could stop herself.
Rogue looked up, and she met his eyes coolly.
He turned back to the paper, then sighed. “You do realize, Miss Berger, that your being illegitimate significantly decreases the benefit you could receive from this venture if we find the man you seek, don’t you?”
Amelia moved back to her chair and sat, taking the time to formulate a careful answer. “That would be true if I sought actual benefit. I am not looking for an inheritance or even a family name.”
“So, what do you seek?” he asked, his tone surprisingly devoid of the sarcasm and derision she had learned to expect as his usual manner.
“The truth,” she said simply, keeping her voice emotionless. “Identity. Answers.”
“Revenge?” he prodded.
She looked up at him slowly. His voice had remained the same, no hint of suggestion or judgment in it, but she did not trust him. His eyes were both assessing and comprehending, and she suspected he knew far too much about her already.
She glanced away and leaned her chin on her hand. “That will depend on what we find with the rest.”
“I see.”
Amelia turned back to him, her temper flaring. “Do you? Do you see, Rogue? Because all I have received from you is judgment and criticism, and a decidedly pessimistic view of absolutely everything. I know what a wild venture this is, but I am willing to risk it because the chance for answers is worth it to me. If I can but understand even a portion of why my situation is what it is, to know even some of who I am, then perhaps my life might make the smallest bit of sense.”
Rogue stared at her for a long moment, his brow slightly furrowed. “Very well, then,” he finally said. He picked up the papers and held them out. “Take these out to the clerks and work with them to assemble a list of resources we might use to reach them. Organize it by location. When that is done, we will have a workable plan.”
She took the papers, nodding. “And what will you do?”
He stood up from his desk and gave her a look. “I will start investigating, Miss Berger. It is what I do.” He smiled blandly. “And what you’re paying me for.”
Chapter Five
It was going to be the worst possible assignment he had ever been given, and he’d once been assigned to infiltrate Bow Street and impersonate a Runner. It was much easier to work with criminals than legitimate law enforcement, as the criminals did not take much convincing of one’s dissolute behavior and never trusted you even if you were one of them. The honest ones were harder to convince of anything, let alone of being someone worthy of their trust. Once you were accepted by them, however, you were not easily let out.
A Rogue About Town (London League, Book 2) Page 5
