The Gentleman and the Thief (The Dread Penny Society #2) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,17

had been able to procure with his all-but-empty pockets.

Hollis wandered to the tall, curtained windows. The world outside was as quiet here as it was in his corner of London. He’d wanted to make his townhome in a more bustling and exciting location. Being part of the Dreadfuls had ruined him for peace and quiet. But Randolph had balked loudly and colorfully when he’d heard the address where Hollis had originally meant to live. Compromise had seemed best. It had also proved boring.

“Uncle Hollis!”

He spun around at the sound of Eloise’s voice. “Sweetie!”

She rushed to him and jumped into his open arms. Soon enough she’d be too big for such things. He meant to cherish her littleness while it lasted.

“Have you brought me flowers?” she asked. “I like it when you bring me flowers.”

“I have brought you Miss Newport. She is my friend and a music teacher.”

Eloise turned bright eyes on Ana, who stood by the pianoforte, watching her newest student with unmistakable delight.

He set Eloise on her feet and pushed her toward Ana, though she didn’t actually need the encouragement.

The little girl rushed to her new teacher. “Good morning, Miss Newport.” She offered a very prettily executed courtesy.

“Good morning to you, Miss Eloise.” Ana motioned to the stool. “Please have a seat, and let’s begin.”

For all her uncertainty during the journey from Thurloe, Ana was immediately in her element. Hollis sat in a chair under one of the windows as the lesson began.

Eloise plunked her way through a very simple piece she’d learned, while Ana listened with an encouraging smile. He could have happily sat there all day long, no matter the lack of polish in Eloise’s performance, but he heard his brother’s voice in the corridor and felt it best to offer a greeting.

He slipped from the music room and came face-to-face with more than he’d anticipated. Randolph was deep in conversation with Alistair Headley.

The two gentlemen noticed him at the same time, and the conversation immediately halted.

“Headley,” Hollis greeted with the tiniest dip of his head.

“Darby,” was the equally unenthusiastic reply.

“Mrs. Kennard was disappointed not to see you at her musicale.”

Headley offered a small shrug. “I was otherwise occupied.”

“Is that what it’s being called now?” Four-Finger Mike was not known for the propriety of his pursuits.

“What what is being called?” Headley asked.

“Whatever it was you were doing.” Hollis shrugged as if it were terribly unimportant. Playing the fool tended to upend people enough they often revealed more than they intended.

“I don’t believe I said what I was doing.”

“Odd.” Hollis pretended to ponder the point. “I could have sworn I had an inkling what you’ve been up to.”

Headley didn’t answer. He turned his attention back to Randolph. “I’d best be on my way.”

“I’ll see you out,” Randolph said. “You can tell me more of . . . what we were discussing.”

Headley spared Hollis a quick glance as he stepped out. The man didn’t seem truly suspicious, but there was definite concern in his expression. Interesting.

The butler stood near the now-closed door, watching through the narrow window so he could anticipate his employer’s return.

“How often is Mr. Headley here?” Hollis asked, moving to join him.

“Increasingly often, sir.”

Hollis didn’t care for that answer. “Does he seem to be a bad influence on my brother?”

Parker’s eyes darted to him. “Are you asking your brother’s butler?”

“No, I’m asking one of my best spies.”

Parker nodded once, firmly. “Oy, then.” His posture slumped from the rigidness required of a proper servant. “That bloke Headley’s a rum customer if you’re asking me.”

“You think he’s dangerous?” Hollis eyed Headley through the narrow window.

“I hear things.” When Parker wasn’t “on duty,” he had as much swagger as any of the Dreadfuls, and a far more colorful vocabulary.

“I’m aware of your acute hearing, Parker. Thankful for it, even.” While Fletcher had his network of street children who brought him word of difficulties and danger, Hollis knew almost everything going on in more exalted circles because he had his own network among the servants. “I’ve heard some whispers about Headley. Have you?”

Parker nodded. “His footman says he’s hardly ever home. Out ’til all hours, he is.”

“Not unheard-of for gentlemen of means.”

“I asked the hack driver who comes by for him regular-like,” Parker said. “Mr. Headley’s not lazing about at any respectable places. Few days back, the driver dropped the gen’lman at a copper hell in Lambeth.”

Lambeth? Jumpin’ Moses. “Does he frequent the slums?”

Parker shook his head. “But wandering out to the seedier side of things even ‘sometimes’ ain’t exactly