Free Heart of Courage by Kat Martin Page A

farther along the lane, she knocked on the door at the bottom of a three-story walk-up and a woman wearing too much face paint opened the door.
    â€œI’m a friend of Phoebe Carter’s,” Thor heard Lindsey say. “I am trying to discover where her flat might be located.”
    She didn’t bother to disguise her voice and the woman looked her up and down, taking in the trousers and coat. “Phoebe’s dead.”
    â€œYes, I know. I’d like to speak to the women who lived with her.”
    â€œHer place was just upstairs, third floor, but her friends ain’t home.”
    â€œI’ll come back another time.”
    The woman closed the door and Lindsey rejoined the footman, who waited a little ways away. Careful to stay in the shadows, Thor followed the pair who appeared, at first glance, to be two young men making their way along the street. The young footman seemed to have no idea they were being followed and Thor silently cursed. The lad was too green—worthless as a protector.
    Lindsey and the footman turned a corner, started along a block Thor knew well, since it was just down the street from Madame Fortier’s brothel. In the middle of the block, torches lit the entry to the notorious Blue Moon, the wickedest gaming hall in London. His hand fisted as he watched Lindsey and the footman walk inside.
    By Odin, did the woman not have a lick of sense?
    Thor resisted the urge to follow her, knowing if he did, he would surely be seen, and instead positioned himself outside the front door.
    He would give her this night, but when it was over, he meant to have a very long talk with her.
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    Making her way through the rowdy, boisterous crowd inside, Lindsey heard Elias Mack’s voice, whispering behind her.
    â€œAre ye sure about this?”
    She wasn’t so sure. This was the worst place they had been so far, the carpet faded and worn, the wallpaper peeling and the air so smoky she could barely breathe.
    â€œThis is our last stop,” she told him, careful to keep her voice low and gruff. “As soon as I speak to the person in charge, we can go home.”
    She had learned from her stop at the Golden Pheasant to ask for the manager, but this place looked far less friendly, and she and Elias seemed to be drawing attention. Perhaps it was the fact they had never been in before while most of the crowd appeared to be locals. Maybe it would be better to gamble for a while and try to fit in.
    â€œâ€™Ow ’bout a throw of the dice, mate?” she said in her gruff male voice, feigning a slight cockney accent. “We’re due for a change o’ luck.” She made her way over to the hazard table and Elias walked up beside her. She could feel his mounting tension as they shouldered their way through the crowd, the same tension that was squeezing a knot in her stomach.
    She was tall enough to pass for a slender man and the room was dark and shadowy enough to hide her face. Her coat and trousers were wrinkled and plain, and wearing the woolen cap, she hoped to appear nondescript.
    Gathered round the hazard table was an assortment of disreputable looking men, several smoking cigars and using foul language, one with thick gray side-whiskers, another with a missing front tooth. As she moved closer to the table, she nearly gagged at the smell of body odor and sour beer and fought to suppress a shudder.
    The men roared as someone hit his winning number. It was now or never. She pulled out the pouch of coins in the pocket of her coat and the instant she did, she realized her mistake. Drawing several sharp glances and a whispered word here and there, she ignored the quickening of her pulse and tried to appear nonchalant. There was no turning back, not without drawing even more attention.
    Keeping her head down, she shook out a handful of coins, then stuffed the pouch back inside her coat pocket, silently berating herself for not realizing the danger of letting the men