Taming of the Beast (Scandalous Affairs #2) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,13
depended upon it.
But a fire and a bed were the two luxuries he’d acquired a taste for over the years.
Finn held a hand out, and Tynan looked down.
The boy held a crusty piece of bread in his fingers. “Been helping myself to this,” he said gruffly and shook it at Tynan.
Accepting the flaky end, Tynan tore a piece off with his teeth. “Everyone else left?” he said around the mouthful. Already knowing. The eight boys he’d set up here, children whom he’d hired through the years as informants in the streets, would have known to leave. Just as Finn should have, too.
“Oliver and Darcy insisted ye weren’t coming back. Said they’d find work elsewhere. Someone who could pay. The others started begging again.” The child puffed his chest out. “Oi said ye would be back.”
Another might have been touched by that show of loyalty. Tynan, however, wasn’t most people. “If you’re going to survive, waiting about for a dead man is only going to see you dead in return,” he said, rolling his tight shoulders.
Finn’s little brow scrunched up. “But ye aren’t dead. Ye’re ’ere.”
“That isn’t the point,” he said impatiently, heading over to the wood bath in the corner. Catching it by the sides, he dragged it across the room. Finn was immediately there, catching the other side. Together, they hauled it over to the stove.
As they worked, Finn said, “Well, Oi think it is. Trust me instincts, ye always said. Oi did.” The boy released a loud yawn, drawing Tynan’s notice to the deep, dark circles underlining the child’s eyes, tired eyes that revealed the long days kept by people of all ages in these parts.
“I have it. Retire for the night. We’ll speak on the morrow.”
The boy hesitated, but the years of directives taken from Tynan proved stronger, and with a nod, Finn rushed off.
The minute he’d gone, Tynan set to work filling buckets with water to heat over the fire.
Nay, he’d been wrong before. Heat. Bed. And a damned bath. They were all equal luxuries to be appreciated. And to be appreciated all the more after months spent in Newgate.
That was, spent in the other side of Newgate, the powerless part where a man lived with the rats and mites. Tynan tugged his yellowed cambric shirt over his head, eager to rid his body of the dirt and sweat that clung to his person, offensive even to him. Sitting down, he tugged one boot free and reached for the next.
Knock, knock, knock.
He froze.
The firm tapping came to an abrupt stop. No one would be looking for him in these parts. Not yet, anyway.
Tynan yanked off the other of his soiled footwear.
Knock, knock, knock.
Quickly donning his shirt and forgoing his boots, Tynan grabbed the dagger left by Finn. As he made his way toward the front door, that rapping came again, this time more incessant.
Tynan reached the scarred oak panel nicked with the initials of the boys who’d lived here and stopped.
There was a slight pause as the insistent person on the other side tried the handle, jimmying it up and down several times.
And then the midnight visitor stopped, and all that lingered in the small, low-ceilinged foyer was the ring of silence.
Holding his weapon up and close in one hand, with the other he turned the lock and yanked the door open in one fluid motion, brandishing his blade.
A startled gasp split the previous quiet.
Tynan tensed as he took in the figure darkening his doorstep. So he’d been wrong. Someone would be looking for him in these parts.
From under that ridiculously deep muslin hood, wide eyes peeked back. Enormous ones. Haunting and eerie and accusatory.
He’d been followed by a seventeen-year-old—mayhap eighteen—lady at that.
“You,” he muttered. What in hell was she doing here? And worse, what was this latest slipup that he should have found himself followed by, of all people, a lady? Tynan made to shut the door quickly, but like a fairylike creature who’d perfected the art of flitting about, she ducked under his arm and let herself inside.
The young woman planted her hands on her hips. “Well, well, well, Mr. Wylie, it appears there is in fact a different address where I can expect to meet with you tomorrow.”
“Stalking me, are you, sweet?” he growled.
To the lady’s credit, she didn’t so much as blink. “Protecting my investment.”
He came up short. “What?” he blurted.
The young lady removed her black gloves. “I prefer to think of it as protecting my investment.”