Page 55 of Tender Blackguard

“I’m afraid not. Though the woman was willing to talk, her information was based on rumor and speculation. Tales told secondhand. Warnings in the dark. Nothing tangible.”

Alastair got the sense Turner was holding something back. “Anything intangible?”

The other man’s expression didn’t change but he didn’t reply for a long moment. Then he seemed to make his mind up about something and replied with cautious care. “Keep in mind that none of this has been confirmed and cannot be without a better source. Also, by your own investigations, these lords do not typically prey upon high-end ladies of the night. Women who are socially connected with some means and money of their own.”

Alastair frowned. “That’s true. So, the warnings of the courtesan are irrelevant?”

“Not necessarily. These types of cautionary tales tend to originate from some real danger. The trick is in tracing the rumors back to their source so we can determine what, if any, truth exists.”

“That will take time.”

“It will,” Turner agreed. “But I’ve connections throughout the city and ways of obtaining records of private property sales and the like. If there’s a trail to follow, I’ll find it. We’ll be looking for a place that can be carefully guarded, in an area where the neighbors aren’t likely to question the sights and sounds of their activities.”

“That’s rather broad criteria.”

“We’ll narrow it down, my lord. Though if they happen to give you an address and specific directions on how to find it, it’d certainly be easier,” he said with a twist of wry humor. Then he took a breath as he glanced to the clock. “I’m afraid I must be going.”

Both men rose to their feet. Stiffly, Alastair extended his hand. “I appreciate your help in this, Turner.”

The other man nodded. “You should know I’m providing Hale with regular reports on my progress in this matter.”

Alastair scowled but nodded. “As long as he doesn’t intend to interfere.”

Turner’s brows lifted. “I can’t promise that, my lord. There’s not much stopping Mason Hale if he’s of a mind to involve himself.”

“So I’m learning,” Alastair replied with a rough sigh.

#

LARK WAS CROSSING THE entry hall when the door to the study suddenly opened and the marquess walked through.

Though her pride was still tender from the way he’d so coolly dismissed her from his room last night, she couldn’t keep herself from looking at him and searching his features to see if he was all right. Something in the hard determination of his final words had worried her. And his expression now did little to reassure her.

Hard and intent, his gaze tracked her as she passed through the hall. The intensity of his scowl stole her breath, and the sudden skip in her heart nearly tripped her step. Because what she’d always believed to be cold disdain now looked a hell of a lot like pure heat and fierce denial.

Despite the tension in her chest, she reminded herself that he’d rejected her. He’d pushed her away last night when she’d offered to help him. Giving a subtle lift of her chin, she intentionally shifted her gaze to the man who followed him from the study.

And nearly bit her tongue off as she suddenly found herself looking into the face of someone she hadn’t seen since she’d been a child. But there was no mistaking those canny hazel eyes, and though his features had certainly grown more mature in the years since she’d last beheld them, they retained enough resemblance as to leave her with no doubt as to his identity.

Dell Turner had been a wily boy a few years older than Lark who’d hired himself out for a variety of tasks about town. Once her talent for getting into even the most secured locations had started to spread, he’d requested her assistance for a few mysterious jobs. She’d always liked him for his pragmatic and intuitive nature and had admired his desire to remain a loner when most street children took advantage of the securities a gang could provide. The jobs she’d done for him had paid well, and he’d been one of the few people on the East End she’d ever fully trusted and considered calling a friend. But she hadn’t seen him since the day she and Harriet had knocked on the door of Yeardley’s Asylum.

The presence of Mason Hale at the Marquess of Warfield’s home had surprised her, but Dell Turner’s presence shocked and confused her.

As though sensing her attention, Turner slowed his stride and glanced her way.

It had been more than a decade since she’d last seen him, so she didn’t expect him to recognize her. But his eyes narrowed just a bit before he lowered his chin in a brief and subtle acknowledgment.

Lark nodded in return. The exchange occupied barely a moment as she passed, yet when she looked over her shoulder toward the marquess, she found him staring rather fiercely at Turner.

A tingling shiver coursed down her spine.

It was clear Warfield had seen the look pass between her and his guest. And he wasn’t pleased by it.

“You’re acquainted with my housekeeper, Mr. Turner?”

Lark hadn’t expected the marquess to call the issue out. Tensing, she came to a stop and turned to face the room more fully. Turner flashed her a swift questioning glance as though asking if he should admit to their association. She gave another short nod and linked her fingers in front of her.

Warfield was aware of her past. There was nothing shameful in knowing someone who’d once run the same darkened streets of the East End.

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