The Gentleman and the Thief (The Dread Penny Society #2) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,97

toward the library two floors above them. “Keep your eyes peeled. If we can find her, we’ll not only be saving her and her children, I suspect we’ll be gaining an ally. And if this web proves much larger, we’ll need all the help we can get.”

“And the Phantom Fox?” Martin asked.

“She’s an ally already.”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Fletcher said, “That ain’t all she is.”

Elizabeth joining their ranks had cooled some of the commentary they usually tossed around. Hollis appreciated it in that moment.

“That brings me to my last matter of business,” he said. “We’ve gained more and more allies in our work, none of whom know the details of our society or endeavors. While many of you have managed to keep that secret from your wives, sisters, and children, I’m not certain how to proceed in my situation. I hope very much to secure the regard of my sweetheart. She’ll know much of my comings and goings, but I can’t tell her my reasons or anything about this group. How do I keep my promise of secrecy to the DPS without fully lying to the woman I hope will make a life with me? And how do I secure her help when I can’t tell her the entire truth?”

If he couldn’t find a way to continue with the crucial mission of the Dread Penny Society while still protecting Ana, he needed to know that now, before he’d committed himself to something he couldn’t follow through with.

“’Tis something I’ve been tellin’ the lot of you for years,” Brogan said. “We’re needing a means of letting our loved ones know a bit more than we can tell’m now. Not membership. Not full knowledge. Just something for those of us saddled with overly curious relations.”

“Móirín’s a lot of things,” Fletcher said, “but ‘overly curious’ feels below the mark.”

They laughed and needled Brogan good-naturedly. The Irishman took it in stride before taking up the topic again with emphasis. “I’ve proposed it before, but I’m doing so more strongly now. We’re needing a sister organization. One that allows our closest family, who are qualified, willing, and eager, to offer a hand now and then in what we do.”

Not everyone was in agreement. Arguments about accidentally revealing too much were tossed out alongside the insistence that such a group would eventually piece everything together. Some declared that keeping loved ones in the dark was making them only more curious, which was a risk unto itself. There was no consensus, no agreement.

“We’ve not enough here for a quorum,” Fletcher said. “Next full-membership meeting, we’ll put it to a vote, and I’ll consult the Dread Master.”

“All the way to the top?” Hollis asked, both impressed and concerned.

“It’s a matter that needs settling.”

There was little else discussed among them. The matter of the gambling establishment and its broader implications were foremost in everyone’s thoughts. The Mastiff had had his hand in this, just as he’d had in the arsons. Though they’d brought down the Raven, it felt like an empty victory. Four-Finger Mike had slipped away again. The Mastiff was still at large. People were still being hurt.

They were after a spider too venomous for ease or comfort, too wily to be trapped, too well-guarded for them to even know when he was nearby.

The meeting adjourned. Hollis didn’t remain long enough to receive the congratulations coming his way. He had more pressing matters to see to. He popped out of the parliamentary room and into the entryway. The butler slumped in his chair as always. Hollis snatched up the penny he’d left on the end table, and the butler reached out a hand and pulled a lever, opening the front door automatically, without ever opening his eyes or changing his posture.

Hollis tipped his hat.

“Ye’re welcome, sir.”

He stepped out onto the walk and into the bustling press of humanity. An obliging hansom cab picked him up at the corner of Garrick and King Streets.

“Where to, guv’nuh?”

“St. George’s Road. Pimlico.” With my heart in my throat and my head in the clouds.

When he arrived, he went, not to the servants’ door, where he’d entered before, but to the front door, like a proper suitor.

Wallace answered his knock. “Thought we might be seeing you, Mr. Darby.”

“You did?” He hadn’t made his intention known.

“Miss Newport’s been watching for you. Cain’t imagine you disappointing her.”

“I never would. At least not on purpose.”

“Best tell her that. Then her father. Then likely her again.”

“Excellent advice.” He followed the valet through the entryway,