Page 92 of Seducing the Knave

After a while she reached a corner where several streets intersected like the spokes of a wagon wheel. Seven Dials.

“M’lady,” Langworth muttered quietly from close behind her, “we really shouldn’t dally here. It’s no place for ye.”

Instead of replying, Elle looked around. Despite it being early in the day, the pubs occupying several of the corner buildings had patrons spilling from their doors to stagger down the street to the next open tavern. Here and there, human forms could be seen huddled beneath a pile of rags or sprawled out amongst the refuse and waste that filled the alleys. Prostitutes and beggars vied for prime spots outside the pubs, both hoping to entice someone with a few remaining coins to spare.

As a man stumbled past her, a bottle of gin in his hand, Elle made the mistake of meeting his bleary gaze and saw nothing but empty despair.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Let’s turn back.”

Elle’s steps lengthened as the mist turned to a light rain. Her chin was lowered beneath her hood so she heard the woman’s soft cry of distress without seeing the cause of it and immediately stopped to see what was happening. She caught a quick glimpse of a young woman trying to twist free from the brutal grip a man had on her arm before Langworth blocked her view in an attempt to usher her away from the scene.

“Please, m’lady,” he muttered imploringly.

But Elle resisted. She turned back just as the woman, who was truly not much more than a girl, pulled back hard enough to break the man’s grip, nearly landing on her backside in a rank puddle in the process. The man responded with a harsh growl and lunged forward to strike the girl across the face in a staggering blow.

Elle gasped and took a step toward them just as the man lifted his hand to deliver another harsh slap.

“Don’t you dare strike that girl again,” Elle shouted, striding boldly forward.

Though her intervention managed to still his hand, the man barely even glanced toward Elle as he sneered. “Bugger off, bitch. I’ll do what I want.” Then he grasped ahold of the girl’s wrist, dragging her to his side as he spit in her face. “Ye’ll learn to mind me, if I hafta beat the obedience into ye.”

“Unhand her this instant.” Anger and fear compressed Elle’s voice into a dark, weighted snarl. The sound was menacing enough to draw the wretch’s full attention.

At first, it looked as though he intended to shout another crude insult, but then he seemed to hesitate as his rather inebriated focus took in her fine velvet cloak and the hood shadowing her face. The hesitation lengthened when his eyes darted to Elle’s right and continued upward to what she suspected was Langworth’s intimidating expression.

“Now, I don’t want any trouble,” he sputtered. “This one belongs to me and I’ve a right to keep ’er in line.”

Elle continued forward, her gaze sharp and her shoulders steady as her fingers tightened around the handle of the dinner knife hidden beneath the fall of her cloak. She never left the house without it.

In a voice that she deliberately lowered to a shadowy whisper so the man would be forced to strain in order to hear her, she said, “The girl belongs to no one but herself. Nothing in this world gives you the right to mistreat another human being. You will release her this instant or I shall ensure the Griffin hears of your transgressions.”

The idea to use the threat of Max’s wrath as incentive was a last-second stroke of inspiration. And it did the trick.

The man’s ruddy cheeks drained of color and he released the young woman’s wrist as if it scalded his palm. The girl issued a choked sob then immediately ran past Elle to cower behind Langworth’s great form.

“Ye won’t really say nuffin’ to the Griffin,” the wretch pleaded. “There’s no real harm done. I’ve only done what I had to.”

Elle lifted her chin. The angle must have allowed him a better view of her shadowed face because he made a harsh sound and stumbled back a step.

“What is your name?” she asked in her most imperious tone.

“R-remy Dawson,” he stuttered, doing everything he could not to look directly at her face again.

His sudden aversion might have been amusing if Elle wasn’t still so furious.

“Is that true?” she asked a bit louder.

The young woman behind her took a shaky breath before replying. “’E goes by Roman Dawes sometimes, too.”

The flicker of distress turned to resignation in the man’s eyes confirmed her words.

“Well, Mr. Dawson/Dawes, you’d best consider this a warning. Do take it seriously,” she added darkly before she turned her back on him in a curt dismissal.

As Langworth stepped past her to ensure the man took his leave, Elle approached the young woman.

In a far softer tone, she asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’m...I’ll be fine, I think.”

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