laughter was unpleasant. ‘Willing? I’m not courting an heiress, man. This one’s bought and paid for. Willing doesn’t—’
The rest was lost in the rattle of hooves and wheels as the cab set off. James sat back, frowning. Montgomery always left a nasty taste in his mouth.
A moment later the trap opened. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, guv. Old horse took off afore you’d finished your chat.’
‘An intelligent beast,’ said James drily. ‘Tell him to take me to Berkeley Street.’
‘Righto, guv.’
The trap shut and James leaned back on the squabs. Damn it. If he ruined Hensleigh completely, then Lucy would be on her own. He let out a breath. Perhaps he didn’t have to break Hensleigh, or Hammersley, or whatever his name was, entirely. He saw again Nick’s battered face and swore.
* * *
Lucy had no idea what trick meant in this context, but the phrase ‘place of business’ gave her the clue.
‘Lor— Look, Mrs Beattie, you’re mistaken.’ Instinct warned her against revealing too much about her visitor. ‘The gentleman is a friend of my father’s.’ That was a stretch, but it would do. ‘He was looking for him.’
Mrs Beattie gave a snort. ‘Listen, dearie, when you an’ your pa moved in I was all set to charge ’im for business, but he insisted you was his daughter, an’ he weren’t selling tricks.’ She sniffed. ‘Can’t say as I really believed ’im at the start, but I gave ’im the lower rate on trial as you might say. But I warned ’im.’
‘Warned him?’ Lucy scowled at the woman. ‘About what?’
Mrs Beattie crossed her arms over her ample bosom. ‘Warned ’im if I so much as smelled a suspicion of a trick up here, he’d be paying more.’
Speechless, Lucy stared at her and she went on. ‘Now, I dunno if he didn’ tell you, or if you just thought you could sneak yer fancy man past me, but—’
‘He is not my fancy man!’ Lucy’s face flamed.
The snort this time was of equine proportions. ‘Right. An’ I’m the Queen o’ France,’ Mrs Beattie said, with a fine disregard for the fact that the last French queen’s head had fallen under the guillotine some years previously. ‘It ain’t no never mind o’ mine, long as you pay up. Mind you...’ She looked around. ‘Flash gent like that, you play ’im right, you oughta get a nice little house to yerself.’
Outrage bubbled up. ‘Mrs Beattie! I am not—’ Not what? Not playing tricks? ‘Not selling myself!’
Mrs Beattie scowled. ‘Well, yer a fool, givin’ it to him for love. Anyone can see ’e’s well-breeched.’
‘He came to see if my father had returned!’ Lucy insisted.
‘That don’t take half an hour, nor it don’t need no coal,’ said the lady with unarguable logic. ‘Three shillings a week extra, missy.’
‘And does that include coal for business purposes?’ Lucy demanded.
The landlady scowled. ‘S’pose I could throw in some coal,’ she said grudgingly. ‘When you pays the extra.’
Lucy blinked. Clearly sarcasm was wasted on Mrs Beattie. Still, if she was going to be bilked for extra rent this week, she might as well get something out of it. Hopefully, once Mrs Beattie realised her mistake, and that Lord Cambourne was not continuing to call, the rent would drop back.
Mrs Beattie, evidently concluding that she’d completed her business, stumped to the door. Reaching it, she looked back. ‘Three shillings extra. Payable Friday.’ She went out, closing the door behind her with a triumphant bang.
Lucy sank on to the chair, staring at the closed door as fear choked her. She barely had enough money left to buy food. Now it was Tuesday night. She had no idea if she could earn three shillings for extra rent, as well as eat, between now and Friday. If only she’d stayed out longer, so that Cambourne had given up and gone away without alerting Mrs Beattie. Or even if she hadn’t indulged in dinner at the tavern, so she had more money towards the rent, or—
‘Well, now there’s the devil to pay.’ Fitch came out of the bedroom and cast a disgusted glance at the door. He stalked to the fire and held out his hands to the blaze. ‘You sure his nibs don’t want a roll?’
‘A—’ Lucy swallowed. ‘A roll. Is that like a trick?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah. You has a quick roll, or turns a trick.’
Lucy stowed the information away. More knowledge unsuitable for the drawing room. But she wasn’t in a safe, protected drawing room.
‘He’s just looking for my father,’ she said. If he’d wanted anything else, there had been nothing to stop him taking it. Although there had been nothing to stop her grandmother’s cat killing a mouse instantly, either.
‘Might get some rhino from him,’ Fitch suggested. ‘Since you reckoned as he owes your pa money, he could pay you some on account like.’
Lucy shook her head, flushing at the thought of begging from his lordship. ‘No.’ Anger rose again. ‘He lied about that. Papa owes him money. And—’ she clenched her fists ‘—he lied about his name. He isn’t Mr Remington at all. He’s Lord Cambourne—an earl.’
‘Ah.’ Fitch scowled. ‘Makes more sense, him comin’ back, then.’ He didn’t push it, apparently accepting that a fellow already owed money was an unlikely touch.
‘Well, that leaves yer fiddle,’ he said. ‘Did well enough today.’ He hesitated. ‘Lu, you know I’d never flam a mark while you’re playing the fiddle, don’t you?’
She blinked. ‘Of course I know that. You promised. Why do you ask?’
He shrugged. ‘No reason. Just thinkin’. S’long’s you know.’
Memory tugged. ‘Did you hear what Lord Cambourne said?’
He scowled. ‘Heard that. He said it loud enough.’
She reached out and touched his hand. ‘I told him you’d promised. That you wouldn’t do that. It will be all right, Fitch. As long as I can earn enough for this week, once she sees Lord Cambourne isn’t calling all the time, she’ll realise I’m not his...his—’
‘Dollymop,’ Fitch supplied. He looked sceptical. ‘Yeah. Drop the rent right back, she will. Being as how she’s so generous an’ all. Look, you want me to go away? The old bitch realises I’m sleeping here, it’ll be another three shillings.’
‘No. Don’t go.’ Knowing that she wasn’t completely alone at night allowed her to sleep better. And she knew that he was off the streets, safe for a few hours.
He cocked his head. ‘You sure?’
‘Yes. Are you still hungry?’ She changed the subject. ‘Have some bread and cheese.’
He cut bread and a chunk of cheese
