In the Dark with the Duke by Christi Caldwell Page 0,3

put, the way of all East London.

All levity faded from Dooley’s previously even features. “You take down the Assassin . . . kill him . . . and I’ll see you with a significant prize.”

“Oh?”

“A purse of twenty pounds.”

It was a veritable fortune.

Hugh went back to adjusting the fabric on his hands. “Your coin? It isn’t of any use to me.” He spread his fingers the same width apart, testing the movements he’d use in about a quarter of an hour’s time. “Caged like an animal, your money does me no good.” For Hugh and the others . . . money served no purpose.

“But what if the cage is sprung . . . And what if you’ve the chance to . . . escape . . .” Dooley left that last word dangling and twisting in the air.

Escape . . .

It was a dream Hugh had let die long ago, so long he’d believed himself immune to feeling anything when so much as hearing it.

Every last hope, however, came roaring back to life, as lifelike and overwhelming in their intensity as they had been when the door had been accidentally left unlocked and he’d stepped one foot outside.

Only to be caught half-in and half-out of the doorway.

The bloodying he’d been given for trying to escape had beaten out any other attempts.

“I see it in your eyes, Savage. You don’t know what to say. You want what I hold out, and yet you fear that I’m playing some . . . game with you.”

Hugh tried to make himself remain still under that unerringly accurate read of every last thought running through his head.

Dooley proved relentless, drifting over, further tempting him. “Think of it. No more sleeping in a locked room. Looking up at the sky. ‘Savage’ can go away, and you can return to being . . . ‘Hugh’ again.”

Hugh.

His throat convulsed. “I’ll never be him again.” His voice came out like a ragged growl. “Savage” was the only name he’d wear. The only one that fit any longer. And now, forevermore.

“Yes, well, that might be true, but if you win this one fight, it will be your last.” Dooley left that there.

And then Hugh . . . would be free.

He tried to breathe, but his chest was tight, his lungs forgetting their basic function as he all but strangled on a sentiment he’d thought long dead: hope.

The sky. Walking free without answering to anyone. Never again using his fists.

His hope, however, was sprung from death.

Hugh’s gaze locked on his white wrappings.

For his freedom was contingent upon killing this night.

But by Dooley’s words, Hugh wouldn’t be the only one to benefit by the Assassin’s death. Maynard, Bragger, and all the other boys who’d been locked up would be spared from squaring off against the monster Dooley described.

Liar. This isn’t about them. It’s about you . . .

Aye. He conceded that point to the jeering voice in his head. It was about him.

“I’ll do it,” he said quietly.

“Wise decision.” Dooley’s thin lips curved ever so slowly; the soft candle’s glow shone off the handler’s unnaturally sharp incisors, giving him the look of Satan who’d just struck a deal. “Wise decision, indeed. You won’t regret this.”

Dooley proceeded to rattle off instructions. “After the fighting, when everyone is back in their rooms”—cells. Prisons the same as Newgate is what they are—“I’ll knock once. The door will open. You’ve the count of five to be out and through it. A sack will be there. You’ll take it, and that will be it.”

Dooley stalked off, but the moment he reached the door, he stopped and glanced back. “Oh, and Savage?”

Hugh drilled him with his eyes.

“They won’t simply accept your loss. They’ll look for you. I suggest you see yourself far away from this place. Far away.” With that ominous warning, Dooley left.

Once alone, Hugh stared at the empty rooms.

This would be his last night. Never again would he have to throw a fist or beat a person unconscious. Or break a bone.

And yet, when he waited for the rush of overwhelming relief . . . it did not come.

For Hugh was unable to shake the sense that he’d made a deal with the Devil this night.

And once locked into an agreement with the Prince of Darkness . . . there was no going back.

Ever.

Chapter 1

THE LONDONER

Yet another Lost Lord has been discovered. Another child, kidnapped. Another life and future forever altered. For too long, the nobility has believed itself immune to such dangers and threats. Only