Page 92 of The Swan Syndicate
Stella had been staring at her reflection, but at her words, her gaze flashed to Libby, whose focus remained on her task. Had the whole manor heard about Cheval’s demise? She wasn’t sure if she should respond, but it didn’t matter because Libby kept talking.
“It was two or three years ago. He dragged me into an alley, wanting to do nasty things to me. He didn’t think much of ayoung girl living on the streets. A year before that, I’d been given a job by the crew to follow some shady guy. Don’t know why. Never thought to ask back then. What I hadn’t expected was that someone else was following the man. He caught me and dragged me into a warehouse. Gave me this scar, he did.”
She stopped brushing and pulled up the sleeve of her dress to show a long, ragged scar under her forearm. “Then he pushed me into a crate. I barely fit. My blood was gushing everywhere. Thought I was gonna die in that crate. But Beckworth found me.”
“How long were you in there?”
She shrugged as she pulled up another section of hair to brush. “It seemed like forever, but Beckworth said it was about fifteen minutes. He would have killed the man right then, but two others showed up, so he had to wait for them to leave. They were just going to leave me there stuffed like a pigeon in a pastry shell.
“Beckworth carried me to Eleanor. She was a seamstress with an acting troop at the time. I think you know she used to do that.”
“Yes. She’s a marvelous seamstress.”
“She sewed my skin together. Even with the alcohol, I screamed. Two days later, Beckworth came to check on me and gave me a bone-handled dagger of my very own. Wasn’t very big but easy enough to fit in my pocket. Said it was up to me whether I wanted to stay in the crew now that I knew how dangerous it was. But either way, he wanted me to have protection, no matter what I decided.”
“Why did you stay?”
She glanced at her through the mirror and grinned. “The money.”
Stella laughed.
“So, anyway, when this guy dragged me into the alley, I still carried that dagger. I don’t know what that man would havedone with me or whether he’d leave me alive, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out. I stabbed him in the gut and then in the chest, then I ran.”
“How do you know he died?”
She laid the brush down and scattered the hairpins out before pushing three aside. “It’s the eyes.” She pointed to hers. “They get glassy, you know?”
Stella did know. No other words were spoken, but Libby hummed something soft and melodic as she finished her hair.
“Okay, let’s get you dressed. I know you’ve made somewhat of a friendship with Lady Abigail, but there’s no reason you can’t still outshine her.”
Stella stood, feeling better than she had since finding herself on Cheval’s ship. Once she was dressed, she pulled Libby in for a hug. The maid kept her arms limp by her side, but when Stella refused to let go, Libby’s arms came around her, and she felt the young woman hug back.
Once they pulled apart, Libby pointed a finger at her. “Don’t you ever tell Beckworth I did that.”
She held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Libby narrowed her eyes for a moment, then seemed to accept the strange oath. “Scout’s honor. I like that.”
She scampered from the room, and Stella released a long breath as she did an internal survey. She believed Libby’s story. The young woman was tough, and it wasn’t hard to imagine what life was like for her in the East End, having seen it for herself.
Beckworth had been watching out for Libby, just like he did for others. For her.
Stella picked up the crossbow. It was heavier than her pistol and wouldn’t fit in her oversized pockets, but it was faster to load. There was no reason to think she’d ever use it again.
She opened the wardrobe closet where she kept her more personal items and searched for a hook, but there wasn’t one.Not sure what else to do with it, she moved clothes aside and leaned it against the back wall.
“I’ll have Barrington add a peg so you can hang it up if you prefer.”
She spun around to find Beckworth watching her. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He smiled. “There’s nothing that gets a man’s heart thumping faster than an elegantly dressed woman with a crossbow.”
Her laugh was throaty. “From fear?”
He pulled her to him. “Not in my case.” His kiss was hot, passionate, and never seemed to end, but when he released her, she wouldn’t have minded a few more minutes of it.
“I spent too much time with the colt. Can you help me change?”
