suspicious eyes. “I … I am Lady Juliana Dare, and I want to thank you for your kindness. You are a true gentleman.”
She wasn’t sure where the words had come from, or why she’d said them, but the results were astonishing. For an instant, the boy’s wariness vanished, and his face blossomed into the delighted pleasure of an innocent child. He faded into the murky fog, still smiling.
“What an unusual child,” Meg commented. “Do you think he was telling us the truth?”
“I would bet my life on it,” Juliana stated, staring at the empty place where the boy had been. She knew now why he’d seemed so familiar, why he’d brought an ache to her heart. His eyes were dark, not pale, and he was a child, not an adult, but such discrepancies hardly mattered. The wary, haunted look of a hunted animal was exactly the same.
The boy had Connor’s eyes.
Juliana tapped her gloved fingers impatiently on the stained wooden counter. “Well, of course you must have heard of him. Captain Gabriel’s name has been all over the papers. He’s the Archangel.”
“Never ’eard of him,” the barkeep repeated as he continuedto dry a mug with a less than pristine rag. “I got customers, lady—paying customers. Either order up or be on your way.”
Juliana glanced around the noisy, crowded taproom that stank of smoke and sour beer. Leaving seemed like a grand idea—except for the fact that she had not yet found Connor. And she had far too much of her adventurer father in her to be turned aside by an unexpected squall. “Oh, very well.” She glanced at Meg. “We will have two lemonades.”
The barkeep looked at her as if she’d just sprouted wings. “And I suppose you’ll be wantin’ some tea and biscuits, too,” he snarled as he turned his back on her. “Shove off.”
It was the second time that evening that someone had rudely ordered Juliana off and she was getting heartily sick of it. She opened her mouth to tell the barkeep exactly what she thought of him and his wretched establishment, but Meg stepped between them.
“We h’ain’t no cunning shavers, guv’nor,” she said in perfect cockney. “And we won’t pass you no swimmers, neither. Give us a cup of the creature and a dram of diddle and we’ll call you a Jemmy Fellow, aye?”
“Well, why didn’t ya say so right off?” the barkeep said as he turned and lumbered toward the bottles at the far end of the bar.
Juliana bent to Meg’s ear. “What exactly did you say?”
“I am not entirely sure,” her friend whispered back. “They were lines in one of my father’s plays—
Murder at Midnight
, I think. Worked like a charm, though, did it not?”
“Indeed,” Juliana agreed with no little admiration when the barkeep returned with their drinks. Juliana glanced over her shoulder and squinted her eyes, attempting to pick out Connor in the closely packed alehouse. It was a daunting task. There were over two hundred people in the room, and at least half of them looked as if they’d sell their mothers for a shilling. She and Meg could spend an hour looking for Connor and still not find him—if indeed he was here at all.The boy could have sent them on a wild goose chase. Or Connor might have already left to go somewhere else.
Or
with
someone else
, her mind whispered as her gaze fixed on the fancy women at the end of the bar. She shoved aside the uncomfortable thought. “He must be here somewhere, he simply must be.”
“Well, if he ain’t, maybe I’ll do.”
Juliana spun around. At the bar beside her stood a stranger who was thin almost to the point of gauntness, wearing a fancy linen shirt and an expensive coat that had obviously been tailored for a wider man. The fine clothes hung on his frame like rags on a scarecrow.
“Name’s Mortimer Sikes, and I’d be pleased to offer my services to you ladies.”
He was harmless, of course. A man his size could not have beat up a butterfly. Nevertheless, something about the gleam in his
She wasn’t sure where the words had come from, or why she’d said them, but the results were astonishing. For an instant, the boy’s wariness vanished, and his face blossomed into the delighted pleasure of an innocent child. He faded into the murky fog, still smiling.
“What an unusual child,” Meg commented. “Do you think he was telling us the truth?”
“I would bet my life on it,” Juliana stated, staring at the empty place where the boy had been. She knew now why he’d seemed so familiar, why he’d brought an ache to her heart. His eyes were dark, not pale, and he was a child, not an adult, but such discrepancies hardly mattered. The wary, haunted look of a hunted animal was exactly the same.
The boy had Connor’s eyes.
Juliana tapped her gloved fingers impatiently on the stained wooden counter. “Well, of course you must have heard of him. Captain Gabriel’s name has been all over the papers. He’s the Archangel.”
“Never ’eard of him,” the barkeep repeated as he continuedto dry a mug with a less than pristine rag. “I got customers, lady—paying customers. Either order up or be on your way.”
Juliana glanced around the noisy, crowded taproom that stank of smoke and sour beer. Leaving seemed like a grand idea—except for the fact that she had not yet found Connor. And she had far too much of her adventurer father in her to be turned aside by an unexpected squall. “Oh, very well.” She glanced at Meg. “We will have two lemonades.”
The barkeep looked at her as if she’d just sprouted wings. “And I suppose you’ll be wantin’ some tea and biscuits, too,” he snarled as he turned his back on her. “Shove off.”
It was the second time that evening that someone had rudely ordered Juliana off and she was getting heartily sick of it. She opened her mouth to tell the barkeep exactly what she thought of him and his wretched establishment, but Meg stepped between them.
“We h’ain’t no cunning shavers, guv’nor,” she said in perfect cockney. “And we won’t pass you no swimmers, neither. Give us a cup of the creature and a dram of diddle and we’ll call you a Jemmy Fellow, aye?”
“Well, why didn’t ya say so right off?” the barkeep said as he turned and lumbered toward the bottles at the far end of the bar.
Juliana bent to Meg’s ear. “What exactly did you say?”
“I am not entirely sure,” her friend whispered back. “They were lines in one of my father’s plays—
Murder at Midnight
, I think. Worked like a charm, though, did it not?”
“Indeed,” Juliana agreed with no little admiration when the barkeep returned with their drinks. Juliana glanced over her shoulder and squinted her eyes, attempting to pick out Connor in the closely packed alehouse. It was a daunting task. There were over two hundred people in the room, and at least half of them looked as if they’d sell their mothers for a shilling. She and Meg could spend an hour looking for Connor and still not find him—if indeed he was here at all.The boy could have sent them on a wild goose chase. Or Connor might have already left to go somewhere else.
Or
with
someone else
, her mind whispered as her gaze fixed on the fancy women at the end of the bar. She shoved aside the uncomfortable thought. “He must be here somewhere, he simply must be.”
“Well, if he ain’t, maybe I’ll do.”
Juliana spun around. At the bar beside her stood a stranger who was thin almost to the point of gauntness, wearing a fancy linen shirt and an expensive coat that had obviously been tailored for a wider man. The fine clothes hung on his frame like rags on a scarecrow.
“Name’s Mortimer Sikes, and I’d be pleased to offer my services to you ladies.”
He was harmless, of course. A man his size could not have beat up a butterfly. Nevertheless, something about the gleam in his
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