Free Prince of Hearts by Margaret Foxe

been authentic was quite a blow.
    And she didn’t think she could handle another blow at the moment.
    She pushed her way past Matthews and stomped down the street. He sighed and fell in step behind her.
    “So you’re not hiding your presence from me anymore?” she demanded after it became apparent he was not going to go away.
    “No, Miss.”
    “And why is that, Mr. Matthews? Decided your cover’s blown, as I now know what you and my employer have done to every gambling establishment in St. Giles?”
    Matthews shrugged. “Somefin’ like that.” He held up a coin purse she recognized as her own. “And that blighter spice trader picked your pocket back there.”
    Blushing crimson with chagrin, she took the purse and thanked him. Perhaps she was a hopeless case. “Did you leave his arms in tact?”
    He smiled. “Aye, Miss. This time.”
    “Are you going to follow me all the way to Mayfair?”
    “Aye, Miss. Where you go, I go, until the Professor returns.”
    She stopped abruptly and spun to face him. “You’ve spoken with the Professor? You know where he is, and why he won’t answer any of my tickertexts?”
    Matthews squirmed. “Not exactly. But I’m to keep a close eye on you, them’s my orders. Straight from the top.”
    “Inspector Drexler has allowed you to perform this … ridiculous task?”
    “’Tis not ridiculous, Miss,” he replied stubbornly. “And it goes even higher up than my boss. All the way to the top.”
    Aline had no idea what that meant. All she knew was the Professor was using his connections to stalk her! And he seemed to have been doing it for five years.
    She took a deep breath, pushing through her rage. It doesn’t matter , it doesn’t matter, she chanted to herself. None of it mattered, because she was, as of this moment, done with her employer, whether he was still abroad or not. She was going to Egypt. Far, far away. And she was going to forget the past five years had ever happened.
    She was going to forget him and his devil-eyes full stop.
    She seethed all the way from Covent Garden to Mayfair, refusing to take the steam car, just to make Matthews have to walk the extra distance. Which was not fair for either of them. Matthews was just following orders, after all, and she was just punishing herself by adding those extra miles. London was not completely pollution-free, after all, and she was feeling the soot in her unenhanced lungs by the end of her journey. She was just too angry to care.
    She’d managed to calm her nerves by the time she and Matthews reached Romanov’s townhouse. Unfortunately, the moment she opened the front door, her nerves were once again shattered. The two hellhounds jumped out at her, snarling, and sprinted down the steps and onto the street, their leashes trailing in the dirt. Madame Kristeva barreled out in pursuit, screaming in Russian.
    Aline dropped her daisies and turmeric, sighed, and ran to join Madame Kristeva, with Matthews on her heels bellowing for her to stop. Two things she knew for certain: for one, if anything happened to Ilya and Ikaterina, Romanov would start chopping off heads, and hers would be the first to go. For another, she was seriously, irrevocably done with her employer.
    Madame Kristeva began to flag after the first couple of blocks. Aline groaned and raced past the winded woman, dodging pedestrians and carts, keeping her sights focused on the errant leashes. Matthews stayed stubbornly by her side.
    At long last, some fifteen minutes after the chase had begun, it ended. They caught up with the hellhounds, who had found something interesting to sniff. She’d only to reach down and retrieve the leashes.
    Which she did. After which, she was yanked off her feet as the two beasts lurched forward, barking excitedly. At what, Aline would never know, for she was hurtling through the air, the pavement having ceased to exist.
    When she landed, she sank into the brackish, churning water of the Thames, and the last thought she had