Free Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) by Christina Skye Page A

see it through to the end!
    She drove the gig through the town until she came to an elegant town house on the square opposite the church. The other houses were dark at this late hour, but her destination was lit by a pair of ornate gold lanterns.
    There were few people on the street. In the dancing light Silver made out a brawny individual with a cabbage nose and decided not to try an entrance from the front. At that moment a dray hauling barrels lumbered around toward the back.
    Silver smiled. One problem solved.
    She would soon be inside. And she had always wanted to see the inside of a real, true-enough gaming hell.
    She followed the dray around to the back and slid down from the gig. As she’d expected, it took her but a few minutes to talk her way inside. She had come, she explained to a harassed-looking manservant, in answer to a notice for employment as a cook. In truth, Silver was hard pressed to boil water without burning the saucepan, but the lie got her through the back door quite neatly. A slatternly-looking female showed her to an office just off the kitchens.
    Silver was studying the opulent silk-covered walls and heavy velvet furniture when the door opened.
    The proprietor was a man she knew by reputation but not sight. He was good with cards, good with money, but had a bad head for whisky, so Tinker had once told her.
    He inspected her closely, trying to see through her heavy veil. “I am told you have come inquiring about employment as a cook. I am sorry, but we have no openings here.” His black eyes narrowed. “There must be some mistake.”
    “But indeed, I fear my message was confused. I have come on a matter concerning my dear departed husband, Archibald Brown, of Brown, Brown, and Green.”
    “Never heard of the man,” came the curt reply. “And what’s it got to do with me if I have?”
    Silver eyed him with disfavor, thankful that her veil would conceal her expression. “My husband was delegated to transfer a bequest for a client. Unfortunately, dear Archibald died before he could complete his task and I have come to fulfill that errand. It is the least I could do for poor Archibald,” she added sadly.
    Her host began to grow interested again. “A bequest, eh? A sizable one, is it?”
    “Quite sizable.”
    “And who is it to go to? Not me, by any chance?”
    “I’m afraid not. Not unless your name is Blackwood.”
    “Blackwood?” The man frowned. “What makes you think I would receive such a notorious criminal here? This is a respectable establishment, so it is!”
    Silver feigned innocence. “Highwayman? Never tell me so. Oh, no, I am sure you are quite mistaken, sir. My husband spoke of this man Blackwood in the most glowing terms.”
    “Then it’s he as was mistaken,” the proprietor said bluntly. “And I have no dealings with any criminals in my establishment. I think you’d better be on your way, madam.”
    At that moment a knock came at the door. A woman in a muslin gown dampened to near transparency appeared in the doorway. “You’re wanted upstairs, Mr. Fielding.”
    “Aye, I’m coming. See the widow woman out.”
    So much, Silver thought glumly, for her second effort. But Kingsdon Cross had one more place of vice left.
    ~ ~ ~
     
    Her last stop was going to be ticklish, Silver admitted.
    Her destination, an exceedingly handsome house, was well located near the outskirts of Kingsdon Cross. Lanterns blazed at every window and the front steps were nearly hidden by carriages. Yes, this was quite the most favored spot in town this night.
    And Silver had always wanted to see the inside of a house of ill-fame.
    Her black veil occasioned a bit of comment as she climbed the front steps, but most of the house’s patrons were too inebriated to pay more than a passing glance at a black-clad widow of indeterminate age and uncertain wealth.
    Silver slipped in behind two laughing gentlemen and entered one of the most elegant rooms in Kingsdon Cross. Her eyes widened as she took