Page 65 of The Secret Life of a Lady
Is that because it’s in my pocket?
Seconds ticked by like hours as his search became increasingly more desperate. He strode around the room, openingdrawers and tossing the contents out before moving on to the next piece of furniture. Hannah’s heart pounded so loudly, she was sure he could hear it. His shoes approached the bed as he searched one nightstand, then walked around the bed to search the other.
Don’t look under the bed. Don’t look under the bed.
Hannah couldn’t reach the Queen Ann pistol in her pocket, the dagger strapped to her thigh, or the throwing knifes hidden in her sleeves. She was a sitting duck waiting to be discovered.
Another round of vicious cursing indicated his search of the nightstands came up empty. His shoes were right next to her head. For a terrifying moment, Hannah could imagine the man bending over, grasping the coverlet with his hand, and pulling it up to reveal Hannah’s wide gaze and pale face.
Instead, he strode out of the room as quickly as he entered.
Hannah sneezed loudly, banging her head on the bedframe.
Bloody fucking hell.
She shimmied from under the bed and looked at her brown dress turned grey by dirt. It was nothing compared to the mess created in Alfred’s room. If she were caught now, there would be no explaining herself. She rushed out of the room, through the closet, and into the sitting room. The door to the hallway was ajar. The mystery man certainly didn’t care about hiding his trail. She poked her head out of the door and glanced down both hallways. Empty.
Glancing at her reflection as she walked past a window, her hair was a nest of tangles dulled by a layer of dust. She made a hasty retreat to her room, breathing a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her.
Reaching into her pocket, she fingered the vellum edge of Alfred’s letter. She was wrong about Lord Cavendale. Alfred wasnow number one on their list of suspects. The note was damning, but it wasn’t irrevocable proof.
Looking down, Hannah sighed at the horrific state of her dress. ‘Betty’s going to kill me.’
But Philippa would be thrilled. They were one step closer to solving this case.
Killian fought between admiration and infuriation with young Billy. The boy was going to skin Killian for a significant sum and, in the process, ensure his sister received justice. Not bad for an eight-year-old boy who was more bones and scabs than anything else.
‘How much is your information worth? Name your price, Billy. I could give you my purse right now. But it will only last you a few months. Maybe a year if you’re careful.’
Billy’s eyes grew wide. ‘A year is more than a lifetime ’ere. No guarantees I’ll live that long anyways. I reckon your purse would be ’nuff to loosen my lips.’
Drake made a gruff sound in the back of his throat. ‘What about a job? Not as much upfront, but it would give you a steady income. A place to live. Food in your belly three times a day.’
Killian’s eyes widened as he looked at his friend. Drake was not cruel, but neither was he kind. His offer was out of character for the war-hardened man.
Billy’s laugh was high-pitched, and his whole body shook with mirth. ‘You’re just as loony as your friend. Nutters, the lot of ya. No one’s gonna give me a job. Not for a bit of information ’bout my sister.’
‘I would.’ Drake looked just as surprised by his words as Billy.He blinked furiously before continuing. ‘You could start tomorrow.’
Killian raised an eyebrow. It would appear underneath Drake’s scarred skin was the oozy middle of a cream puff.
‘Caw!’ Billy threw a thumb at Killian, then Drake. ‘It’s a wonder you don’t both end up in the Red ’ouse if you ain’t careful.’ He shook his head like an old man disgusted with the frivolity of youth. ‘Can you even imagine? Billy Bright working for a cove like you? Not likely.’
Drake leaned down, so he was eye level with Billy. ‘Would you steal from me?’
Billy sat back in his chair. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He stuck his chin in the air. ‘I’m no thief.’
‘Would you ever lie to me?’
Billy’s brows came down, creating a wrinkle above his nose. ‘I ain’t no liar neither if that’s what you’re tryin’ to say.’
‘Do you promise to work hard and not laze about?’
The boy sucked air through his teeth. ‘Me dad didn’t raise no layabouts. I ain’t ’fraid of a day’s labour.’ He crossed his thin arms over an equally scrawny chest.
‘Then you sound like the exact man I need.’
Billy opened his mouth, then closed it again. His eyes darted from Drake to Killian and back again.
