Read Online The Perils of Pleasure by Julie Anne Long - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Anne Long
Ads: Link
between the lamps, and was handing a dark bottle to a gentle man whose turned-up coat collar and pulled-down hat brim made it clear he was no more eager to be seen than Colin was.
“Good day,” the man gruffly said, patting a jingle of coins into the proprietor’s hand.
He turned abruptly, nearly clocking Colin in the ankles with his walking stick, and Colin turned swiftly toward the wall to admire the dark bobbing things.
Madeleine frowned slightly. She’d seen little more than a pair of eyes and part of a nose, but the departing man seemed familiar. In fact . . . well, she might have sworn he was an MP.
Interesting customers, McBride had.
Colin dutifully remained turned away from the pro prietor, hat pulled down. He sidled down the wall a ways to examine a skeleton.
His gait was a trifle careful, Madeleine noted. Shack les, she thought, jarred. He’d been shackled for weeks. He was still accustoming himself to walking without them.
“Good day, madam.” The proprietor’s voice was cheerful and Scottish, and the man was bony and be spectacled. Sparse gray locks swung in long, gay stream ers from his otherwise naked pate.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Madeleine replied. “Would you be McBride?”
“Aye, I’d be McBride. ’Ave ye been sent, m’dear?”
She hesitated, a bit surprised. “In a manner of speak ing,” she said tentatively.
“’Ow may I be of assistance to you and . . . ” He cast a discreet glance at Colin, who had moved on and bent to peer at something that looked like it might have been a rat once upon a time. “ . . . the gentleman?”
For some reason, McBride didn’t seem to think it was at all unusual to be addressing the lady and not the gentleman. “’Ave ye come fer me . . . specialty?” he coaxed.
“And what would your specialty be?” Madeleine in quired cautiously. She wondered if this was code this particular flash house used to identify customers. She hardly resembled the typical Seven Dials thief with something to fence, which perhaps was the reason for his circumspection.
McBride studied her, and Madeleine saw not his eyes but the lamps reflected in the lenses of spectacles. He must have concluded that she was being canny, for he straightened and launched into a speech.
“Madam, I ’umbly submit that I’ve an elixir what can solve nearly every problem of a”—his voice dropped discreetly, though as far as Madeleine could tell, there wasn’t another soul in the shop apart from herself and Colin—“masculine or intimate nature.”
Over near the might-have-once-been-a-rat, Colin Eversea went utterly still.
Time might be of the essence, but this was too much to resist.
“Would the problems you refer to, sir, be of the . . . marital . . . sort?” Madeleine’s voice was a discreet hush.
“Aye, madam. Me elixirs ’ave improved many a marriage. I can brew summat fer nearly every . . . ” He cleared his throat. “ . . . difficulty.” And then he waved his hand about the shop, as if the very ingredients for such magic were visible everywhere. He reached behind him for one stoppered bottle and presented it to her as though offering up a fine vintage. “Fer instance—”
“But what if . . . ” Madeleine paused. “ . . . his— it’s —just a wee, tiny tadpole to begin with?” Just in case this was too cryptic a description, she held her thumb and forefinger apart about two inches.
Colin Eversea coughed.
McBride was momentarily transfixed by the pathetic little space between her fingers. And then he carefully lowered the bottle, cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “’Tis a wee, tiny tadpole, you say?” he said briskly. He made it sound like a scientific condition. He drummed his fingers on the counter thoughtfully.
Colin Eversea had recovered and was now ex perimentally opening and closing the elongated bony jaws of some unidentifi able creature. Creeeak , creak . Creeeak , creak .
“Oh yes! You can scarcely even see it in the
“Good day,” the man gruffly said, patting a jingle of coins into the proprietor’s hand.
He turned abruptly, nearly clocking Colin in the ankles with his walking stick, and Colin turned swiftly toward the wall to admire the dark bobbing things.
Madeleine frowned slightly. She’d seen little more than a pair of eyes and part of a nose, but the departing man seemed familiar. In fact . . . well, she might have sworn he was an MP.
Interesting customers, McBride had.
Colin dutifully remained turned away from the pro prietor, hat pulled down. He sidled down the wall a ways to examine a skeleton.
His gait was a trifle careful, Madeleine noted. Shack les, she thought, jarred. He’d been shackled for weeks. He was still accustoming himself to walking without them.
“Good day, madam.” The proprietor’s voice was cheerful and Scottish, and the man was bony and be spectacled. Sparse gray locks swung in long, gay stream ers from his otherwise naked pate.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Madeleine replied. “Would you be McBride?”
“Aye, I’d be McBride. ’Ave ye been sent, m’dear?”
She hesitated, a bit surprised. “In a manner of speak ing,” she said tentatively.
“’Ow may I be of assistance to you and . . . ” He cast a discreet glance at Colin, who had moved on and bent to peer at something that looked like it might have been a rat once upon a time. “ . . . the gentleman?”
For some reason, McBride didn’t seem to think it was at all unusual to be addressing the lady and not the gentleman. “’Ave ye come fer me . . . specialty?” he coaxed.
“And what would your specialty be?” Madeleine in quired cautiously. She wondered if this was code this particular flash house used to identify customers. She hardly resembled the typical Seven Dials thief with something to fence, which perhaps was the reason for his circumspection.
McBride studied her, and Madeleine saw not his eyes but the lamps reflected in the lenses of spectacles. He must have concluded that she was being canny, for he straightened and launched into a speech.
“Madam, I ’umbly submit that I’ve an elixir what can solve nearly every problem of a”—his voice dropped discreetly, though as far as Madeleine could tell, there wasn’t another soul in the shop apart from herself and Colin—“masculine or intimate nature.”
Over near the might-have-once-been-a-rat, Colin Eversea went utterly still.
Time might be of the essence, but this was too much to resist.
“Would the problems you refer to, sir, be of the . . . marital . . . sort?” Madeleine’s voice was a discreet hush.
“Aye, madam. Me elixirs ’ave improved many a marriage. I can brew summat fer nearly every . . . ” He cleared his throat. “ . . . difficulty.” And then he waved his hand about the shop, as if the very ingredients for such magic were visible everywhere. He reached behind him for one stoppered bottle and presented it to her as though offering up a fine vintage. “Fer instance—”
“But what if . . . ” Madeleine paused. “ . . . his— it’s —just a wee, tiny tadpole to begin with?” Just in case this was too cryptic a description, she held her thumb and forefinger apart about two inches.
Colin Eversea coughed.
McBride was momentarily transfixed by the pathetic little space between her fingers. And then he carefully lowered the bottle, cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “’Tis a wee, tiny tadpole, you say?” he said briskly. He made it sound like a scientific condition. He drummed his fingers on the counter thoughtfully.
Colin Eversea had recovered and was now ex perimentally opening and closing the elongated bony jaws of some unidentifi able creature. Creeeak , creak . Creeeak , creak .
“Oh yes! You can scarcely even see it in the
Similar Books
