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

in the hundreds of candles and food enough for an army.
    Ill fame certainly seemed to be a thriving concern.
    Moving on, Silver found herself in a very handsome salon covered with a great many mirrors and dozens of velvet settees. For a moment she stared about her in confusion. Certainly, she had made a mistake. This was no bawdy house. The women she saw were all of the most elegant, and the men were as finely dressed as any she’d seen on her few trips to London with her father.
    Gradually Silver noticed other details, however. The women’s dresses were cut a great deal too low, and the men seated beside them took a great deal too many liberties in the placement of their hands.
    Silver hastily averted her gaze and looked about for someone in charge. A striking blonde woman entered the salon at that moment, calling orders to a man with a black eye-patch. It was now or never, Silver told herself.
    She made her way across the crowded floor toward the proprietress. “Excuse me, madam. Could I have a word with you?”
    The statuesque blonde cast Silver a measuring glance. “Looking for work, are you? Fallen on bad times, I can see. Well, you’ll have to be interviewed just like all the others. Go up to Marie — last room on the second floor. She’ll have a look. And take off that ugly veil. It won’t do at all. Before we can decide, we’ll have to have a look at your face — and other things as well.”
    Silver swallowed. “I fear you confuse the matter. I am here about my husband, Mr. Brown. Of Brown, Brown, and Green.”
    The woman stiffened. “We have all sorts of men here. I can hardly be expected to keep track of their names.” Frowning, she gestured to the man in the black eye-patch. “If your husband has gone astray, it’s no business of mine. Now I think you’d better leave.”
    Silver interrupted her quickly. “No, truly you don’t understand. My husband, dear Archibald, died before he could conclude the transfer of a bequest to one of his clients. He bound me to finish the job, you understand.”
    The blonde woman settled her hands on her hips. “Bequest, you say? Doubt if it’s for me. My luck’s been all out these six months and more. But tell me, who is the lucky person?”
    “A man named Blackwood.”
    The cool blue eyes narrowed. “Blackwood? What makes you think I’d have anything to do with the fellow?”
    “Well I don’t know, not precisely. But I was told — that is, the people here in town said that-—”
    “Oh, yes, people in Kingsdon Cross say all kinds of things about my establishment, but I’m here to tell you most are lies! They lie to my back, but they’re fast enough to take my money. In answer to your question, I haven’t seen Blackwood. Not for weeks, more’s the pity, since the man pays well. So you see, I can’t help you.”
    “If he should come in, you would pass him the message, wouldn’t you? It’s a sizable sum, and I’m sure he’d be most … grateful.”
    The woman stared at Silver. “I suppose it might be managed. Where can he find you — if he should happen to come in?”
    “I’ll be at the Cross and Arms, but only for tonight. I have but a short time until the bequest becomes invalid, you see.”
    The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I see. If he comes by, I’ll tell him.” With that she turned away, motioning to the man in the eye-patch.
    The interview was clearly over.
    With a sigh Silver turned to leave. She had thought it would be much simpler than this. After all, a man as notorious as Blackwood ought to be out robbing carriages or living up to his sordid reputation in one of Kingsdon Cross’s three centers of vice.
    At that moment Silver felt a man in a crimson vest studying her across the room. She found she didn’t care for the glittering look in his eyes, nor for the hard set of his mouth.
    She turned and moved briskly toward the door. It wouldn’t do to tempt fate, after all.
    ~ ~ ~
     
    Damn it, what poor prey was Sherringvale chasing