us to Ewan. And that ends, as well.” They’d been fighting Ewan for two decades. Hiding from him. Protecting Grace from him.
“Grace won’t like it,” Felicity said, softly. A lifetime ago, Devil and Whit had made a singular promise to their sister—that they wouldn’t hurt Ewan. It did not matter that he’d been the fourth in their band or that he had betrayed them beyond reason. Grace had loved him. And she’d made them promise never to touch him.
But Grace wasn’t a part of this. Whit shook his head. “Grace will have to suffer it. He comes for more than us now. For more than his past. Now, he comes for our men.”
For the world the Bastards would protect at all costs.
It was time to end it.
Whit met his brother’s eyes. “I’ll do it.”
The words were punctuated by a knock on the door to the building, the sound muffled in the distance. Another body, no doubt. There was always someone in need of care in the Garden—and he’d be damned if he’d let an entitled aristocrat add to the body count.
The brothers locked eyes. “All of it?”
“The business, the name, everything he values. I’ll bring it down.” Young Sedley had crossed the Bastards, and with it, brought destruction upon himself.
“And Lady Henrietta?” Felicity said, setting Whit on edge with the honorific. He didn’t like her as an aristocrat. He’d preferred her as Hattie. “Do you think she is part of it? Do you think she works with Ewan?”
No. The denial rioted through him.
Devil watched him carefully, then said, “How do you know?”
I know.
It wasn’t enough.
“She’ll give up the brother.”
Devil regarded him in silence. “Would you give up yours?”
Whit clenched his teeth.
“If she doesn’t?” Felicity asked. “What of her then?”
“Then she’s collateral damage,” Devil said. Whit ignored the distaste that came with the words.
Felicity looked to her husband. “Isn’t that what I was, once?”
Devil had the grace to look chagrined. “For a heartbeat, love. Just long enough for me to come to my senses.”
“If she’s the enemy, I’ll do it,” Whit said.
One of Devil’s brows went up. “If?”
You’re very inconvenient.
It’s the Year of Hattie.
Snippets of the conversation in the carriage.
“Even if she isn’t the enemy,” Devil pointed out, “she protects the man who is.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leveled his brother with a firm look. “Which makes her valuable.”
It made her leverage.
“You’ll have no choice but to show her the truth of us, bruv,” Devil said quietly. “No matter how much you like the look of her.”
The truth of them. The Bareknuckle Bastards didn’t leave enemies alive.
“Sort it before we have to move more product,” Devil said. A new shipment would come into port within the next week.
Whit nodded as the door to the room opened, revealing the doctor. “You’ve a message.” He pushed the door wide and revealed one of the Bastards’ best runners.
“Brixton,” Felicity said to the boy, who immediately preened under Felicity’s attention. All the boys in the Garden adored her—half lockpicking genius, half maternal perfection. “I thought you were headed home?”
“To learn how to keep your gob shut, I hope, boy,” Whit said, making certain Brixton knew Whit had heard everything the boy had told Devil about Hattie.
“Ignore him,” Felicity said. “What is it?”
Brixton raised his chin toward Whit. “There’s reports there’s a girl in the market. Lookin’ fer Beast.” A pause, and then, “No’ a girl, really. A woman.” He lowered his voice. “The boys fink she’s a lady.”
A rumble sounded low in Whit’s chest.
Hattie.
“Askin’ all sorts o’ questions.”
Felicity looked to Whit. “Is she?”
“Aye. No’ that we’re answerin’.” Of course they weren’t. No one in Covent Garden would give Lady Henrietta Sedley information about the Bastards. That was the first of the unspoken rules there. The Bastards belonged to the Rookery alone.
“Good work, Brixton,” Devil said, flipping a coin to the boy, who snatched it out of the air with a grin and was gone before Devil could add, “Seems like you won’t have to find her, after all, Beast.”
Whit’s grunt hid the thread of disbelief that coursed through him. And the wariness. And the desire to chase her down. No, he wouldn’t have to find her.
She’d found him first.
Chapter Eight
There was nothing in the wide world like the Covent Garden market.
The marketplace was massive, fronted by a great stone colonnade that gave way inside to an endless collection of shops and stalls selling anything a body could need—laden high with fruits and vegetables, flowers and sweets, meat pies and china, antiques