A Rogue About Town (London League, Book 2)

by Rebecca Connolly

  He could have still gone back into that world, so safely had he gotten out.

  But he much preferred the criminals.

  He would rather take the criminals now than this ridiculous scheme. The list Miss Berger had given him was a poor representation of anything, but he supposed that, if she were telling the truth, her past did not have much to offer them. He’d looked over it carefully, and it was too neat, too tidy, which meant there were holes in her story. He had many, many questions for her, none of which would be pertinent to the case that he had been hired to do, but all of which would aid him in rooting out what her purposes were and whether or not she could be trusted.

  The trouble seemed to lay with the fact that he could not manage to speak to her without provoking her. It was too easy to nettle her, and she fought back with such surprising sharpness that it was far too tempting to set aside.

  He’d left the office shortly after setting her to work with the clerks, instructing her to only work with One as Two was still learning what was useful and what was not. He might have imagined it, but he thought she was amused by his names for them. He hoped she would not form attachments to them. It would be rather disagreeable to have her around all the time just for their amusement.

  After two days of scouring the streets, he had to admit that he could find nothing on the identity of Amelia Berger, saving her lodging in the cheapest boarding house that could still be categorized as strictly such. It only confirmed what he already knew. She was not what she seemed.

  He’d found her uncle easily enough, and the story there was even less convincing than hers had been.

  The dingy living quarters of the overpopulated and over-pious Berger family had not encouraged him, nor had it when the dimwitted uncle claimed he’d had no idea that his “Margie” had a niece, as he hadn’t known she’d had a sister. But a short conversation with Mrs. Berger had confirmed that she did, in fact, have a sister, and she had severed ties with her when her shameful life had become too offensive to bear.

  Gabe had faintly wondered what horrifying lifestyle had caused such strife and suspected it could have been an overly frivolous hair ribbon, as the pair before him had been the most colorless and formless shapes of humans he had ever come across.

  No wonder Amelia had left them.

  He would have fled the first night.

  It came as no surprise to him that Amelia had simply shown up on their doorstep one day and claimed to be a relation in desperate need of support. The Bergers claimed she had never asked them for a farthing, only a place to stay. She had worked as a maid for them as well as doing some work in the local shops and homes, most of which would make any respectable person’s skin crawl. Apparently, she had never once complained about the conditions. They had not felt right about turning away a family member so desperately in need, and as she had shown none of the willfulness of her late mother, they saw fit to keep her.

  It had apparently been quite moving when Amelia had asked if she might take on the family name, forsaking completely that of her disgraced mother, and they had only been too delighted to allow it.

  When he’d asked why she’d left, they both looked troubled. “Her mother’s spirit must have turned her,” Mrs. Berger had said. “She was suddenly filled with discontent, thinking herself too good for the circumstances we offered her, and she began filling the children’s heads with all sorts of dangerous talk. Imagine our little girls thinking for themselves and not doing what we say!”

  “Imagine,” Gabe had muttered.

  They’d told her to go and had given her the address of the boarding house but would not do more for her until she repented and came to herself.

  Gabe suspected they would wait several lifetimes for that.

  He hadn’t actually set out to investigate Amelia while looking into some of the groundwork for her case, but it just happened to pan out that way. He wasn’t convinced of her innocence, but the more he knew her, the more he suspected something else lay at the root of her intentions. She was driven, he could honestly say that, and far more than her initial impression had led him to believe. She had not only completed the tasks he had assigned her and One, but she had done such a thorough job with them that he had been convinced that One had done it all.

  He’d been stunned when the truth had come out.

  He’d expected that work to keep her occupied and out if his way for a few days, but they had finished it in the single day he’d been about the streets. Today, he’d told them to keep going, to proceed with analyzing the most likely ways to get information on each person, tasks they would need to complete, and an overall plan. It was another item to take up time, as Gabe already knew what he was going to do, but until he had set everything in motion, he needed a distraction for her.

  If they accomplished this as quickly as they had the last, he would have to think of something else for tomorrow. And if Amelia was this efficient, he might actually have to take her along with him.

  That was a terrifying thought.

  And when, exactly, had he started thinking of her as Amelia?

  That made him frown more than anything else. Familiarity was not something he was in favor of. It tended to produce a bond that did not exist and encourage further familiarity, and he could not maintain his distance once things became personal without everything becoming utterly mangled between the parties.

  Although, if this madness took as long as he thought it would, he would be forced to have Amelia around for quite some time. He could never be polite, or pretend at it, for so long. Formality was sometimes worse than familiarity.

  He could not win.

  One thing was certain, however. None of Gabe’s contacts had ever heard of Amelia Berger, none of his respectable inquiries had turned up anything on Mary Palmer, and there was absolutely no way in hell that he was in possession of the facts that he would need to even make success plausible.

  It should also be noted that Mr. Berger was, in fact, married to Marjorie King, not Palmer, and her sister had been named Dorinda.

  Lies and false names.

  Not at all suspicious.

  He smirked to himself as he approached the office. He wouldn’t tell Amelia that he knew. He’d let her think him naïve enough to believe her, then sit back and wait for all hell to break loose when her case completely crumbled.

  Besides, he wanted to know the real story. He might be a rogue with no honor, but he did have a tendency toward curiosity.

  He pushed into the office to find Callie and Amelia on one side of the room, glaring at One and Two as if war had been declared. One and Two, for their parts, looked utterly terrified as they attempted to stand their ground.

  Gabe looked between the two sides, then shook his head and walked directly between them and headed for his office.

  Perhaps he was not so curious.

  He sank into his chair and began rifling through the papers on his desk, scanning his notes and matching them with the ones in his head.

  Barely two minutes later, Amelia entered, without knocking, and stood at his desk, arms folded, and tapping her foot.

  Gabe could not have been less interested in what she had to say and continued to read his notes with the same focus he had before.

  Amelia tapped louder and louder, and just when Gabe thought she would start stomping her feet, she cleared her throat.

  He glanced up at her, his face perfectly composed. “Yes?”

  Amelia’s pale eyes skewered him, and her lip curled a little. “Are you going to tell me what you found?”

  Gabe frowned and sat back. “Why would I?”

  “Because it is my case.”

  He shook his head at once and held up a finger. “It is my case, Miss Berger. I am the one investigating, and it is my skills that are being employed. You happened to present it, and that is all that can be said for you.”

  Amelia placed her hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Rogue. I meant it when I said I
would be involved in this investigation. I will not let you shut me out, and I will not be given mundane tasks to keep me occupied anymore. Your clerks can do that very well; they do not need me. When you return from your investigative efforts, I expect to be informed of your progress. Is that clear?”

  Gabe stared at her for a long moment, his heart pounding a bit oddly as he noticed for the first time how her cheeks flushed when she was indignant.

  Then his rational mind took over, and his own indignation rose, prodding him to rise from his seat and match her pose on the desk. “Let me make something clear to you, Miss Berger. I do not report my progress to anyone but Cap, certainly not to my clients, and certainly not to you. If I have something to tell you, I will do so. I have no intention of shutting you out, I had you do those tasks because they needed to be done, and I do not believe that One and Two could manage a passable job on their own, considering the information you could provide them.”

  Amelia’s jaw tightened, and she met his gaze for a long moment, then she swallowed. “You could at least take me with you on your investigations.”

  Gabe almost smiled. “Not all of them, Miss Berger. There are parts of London I must frequent that would frighten even you.”

  She did smile, though it was a cold, chilling sort of smile. “No, I don’t think they would.”

  Something about her tone unsettled him, but he was quick to shake it off, and he pushed away from the desk, returning his gaze to the papers before him. “As it is, my investigations thus far have been unproductive.”

  “Really?” Amelia asked without any trace of irony. “Why? What happened?”

  Gabe looked back at her. “Nobody knows who Mary Palmer is.”

  Amelia’s brow furrowed. “How is that possible? She’s from London, I know she is.”

  Gabe sat back down in his chair and gave her a thoughtful look. “How?”

  She leaned against his desk, tilting her head. “How what?”

  “How do you know?” he prodded, gesturing with his hand a little. “How exactly do you know she was from London?”

  She lowered her gaze, her brow furrowing further in thought. Her folded arms tightened against her, and her lower lip pulled as if she was gnawing the inside of it. “She always spoke of London. And in great detail, things I confirmed when I finally came here myself. Even when she was nonsensical, she always spoke of London.”

  “That could mean anything.”

  Amelia shook her head. “No, she was from London, I’m sure of it. She could not speak of it in such a way without having lived here. She knew shops and streets, people who worked there and proprietors to visit. I assure you, she knew London very well.”

  Gabe frowned, processing the information. Even so, it could still mean anything. She could have visited London often, could have lived here for part of her life but not all, or even, he supposed, could have been a girl from a high Society family who came to London for the Season.

  Whatever the truth was, someone ought to have known of her.

  Unless that name was also false.

  He turned a harsh eye to Amelia, who reared back a little in confusion.

  “What?” she asked.

  “It is going to be remarkably difficult,” he said slowly, “more difficult than it already is, to accomplish anything without complete honesty between us.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’ve been honest with you.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what is your mother’s name?” he demanded.

  “Mary Palmer,” she recited, looking bewildered. “I was Amelia Palmer before I changed my name.”

  He sneered a little. “Then why does no one in London know her name?”

  “I don’t know,” she snapped. “Did you ask all of London?”

  Gabe glared, then pushed off his chair. “Come with me.”

  She followed at once, her drab grey skirts swishing against the floor, being too long for her and collecting all manner of dust and crumbs in their length.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, keeping pace with his long strides as they entered the front room.

  “Bonnet,” he said shortly.

  She grabbed hers and jammed it on her head. “Where are we going?” she asked again.

  He nodded at Callie, sweeping near the door. She opened it for them and offered a confused look that he did not respond to.

  “Rogue!” Amelia demanded, grabbing his arm. “Where are we going?”

  “You don’t know your mother’s story,” he told her as they walked. “London does not know her name. That leaves us with few options, aside from your list, which does not appear to be worth our time as things are. So, I am taking you to someone who can give us another alternative.”

  “Who?”

  He smiled grimly. “An artist. One who only needs a description to begin and is very accurate.”

  Amelia groaned and shuffled a little beside him. “An artist? We don’t have time for that.”

  Gabe gave her a hard look. “Do you have a particularly pressing deadline that I do not know about? Trust me, we have time for Hal.”

  She obviously did not believe him, but she would see.

  He’d never met anyone as talented as Hal, and there was no one else he trusted with this task. But he’d never tell Amelia that.

  Hal did not live far from their office, so it was a short walk, which was merciful, as Amelia plagued him with questions he quite simply refused to answer. What did he think their next step ought to be; how did he expect to discover her mother’s identity; where should they look for answers…

  She rambled on and on, and her voice began to grate in his ears. He tried to keep his stride as per usual, which was long and efficient, but the more she peeved him, the faster he walked. Unfortunately, she matched him stride for stride and had not become winded in the least.

  It was the first time in his life he could recall actually being pleased to see Hal’s temperamental butler, bodyguard, manservant, and Lord knew what else. Tad was a reformed criminal, though the level of his reformation was in question. Gabe had been the one to recommend him, given his penchant for loyalty, an uncommon trait in a man with his past, but a deuced useful one.

  Tad nodded at him, had no expression for Amelia, and gestured up the stairs before disappearing.

  “Well,” Amelia muttered, “that’s the most honest man I have ever met. Quite a pleasure to receive my due by way of greeting.”

  Gabe coughed a laugh, shaking his head as they mounted the stairs. “Tad has never managed politeness, and I fear he never will.”

  “Oh, and have you managed it?” she asked, smiling a little.

  “Only on Wednesdays and only if the weather is fair.”

  Amelia chuckled a low laugh that oddly charmed him, which laughter rarely did. But hers was honest and raw, and he suspected she did not laugh often.

  Why that should be significant, he couldn’t say.

  They quickly moved into Hal’s library, which was the studio these days, and Hal, never one for propriety, scared the wits out of him by teetering on the top of a ladder, trying for a book out of reach.

  Gabe bit back a coarse expletive and moved to the ladder quickly. “Damnation, Hal, are you trying to fall to your death?”

  Hal snorted and tossed him a wry look, her blonde locks tumbling around her shoulders. “Of course not, Rogue. If I fell, which would be a very faint if, I would only manage to injure myself, perhaps break something. Don’t be a hero, it doesn’t suit.”

  Gabe groaned his disgruntlement and shook the ladder lightly. “Get down, Hal, or I’ll topple you on purpose.”

  Hal leaned out further, snatched the book she’d sought, then gripped the ladder once more. “On my way. Don’t look up my skirts.”

  He snorted and averted his head. “As if I were even remotely tempted.”

  “I can’t tell you how delighted I am to know you treat everyone this way and not just me,” Amelia said from somewhe
re behind him.

  “That is enough from you, thank you,” he grunted, helping Hal down the last few rungs.

  Hal hopped down and tilted her head up at him. “I didn’t know you knew that phrase. Wonders never cease.” She turned to consider Amelia, folding her tartan shawl around her more tightly. “How do you do?” She curtseyed then approached. “They call me Hal.”

  Amelia grinned without reservation, which was a bewildering sight as it made her entire face brighten. “They call me Amelia. It is very nice to meet you.” She glanced at Gabe, then back to Hal. “I think you and I will get along splendidly.”

  Hal snorted and tilted her head towards some chairs. “I doubt that. I don’t get along with anybody. That’s why I’m a spinster living alone with a practically mute former criminal for my companion.”

  Gabe rolled his eyes and sank into a chair near her. “You never complained before, Hal.”

  She sniffed and gave him a look. “You never listen, so I might have, and you’d never know.” Then she sighed, and her expression became more pleasant. “What can I do for you, Rogue? I presume this is not a social call.”

  “You know very well I never make social calls,” he reminded her dryly. “No, I need you to make a sketch.”

  “Yes, that much I had figured.” Hal looked at Amelia with seemingly infinite patience. “They never call on me for anything else, so I really am never expecting to be asked about popular fashions or the like.”

  Amelia snorted and covered her mouth, her eyes flicking to Gabe.

  “Miss Berger here,” Gabe said, barely managing to reply without sounding overly irritable, “is going to describe a person for you from memory. And then, I think, you should make one of her as well.”

  Amelia looked startled. “Of me? Why?”