said gruffly.
He reached out and laced his fingers with hers. “Come on. You’ll feel better when you’re eating a hot steak-and-kidney pie.”
She had a thought. “How would you like it if we bought lunch and looked for your earrings at the same time?”
He tilted his head in a way that reminded her of his uncle. “How will we do that, pray?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter 10
Solomon’s stomach was starting to growl. They had already strolled past several mouthwatering pie stalls set up along the Strand. Finally a pieman wheeling an enormous barrow caught Serena’s eye. “Hey there, Doyle!” she yelled.
He hurried over. “What’ll it be, madam? Steak-and-kidney, mutton, pork, eel, or apple?”
“Two of whichever are least likely to contain rat and pigeon, please.”
Doyle stared. “You want a pie?”
Serena snickered. “What, do they all contain rat?”
“Not on your life! My Bridget bakes these pies and they’re all fine and fresh.”
“In that case, I’ll have a steak-and-kidney. What will you have, Solomon?”
“Eel, please.”
Doyle bit his lip. “I shouldn’t try the eel, sir.”
Solomon laughed. “Steak-and-kidney for me, too, then.”
“Very well, sir, milady, and would you like hot gravy with your pies?”
Serena nodded. Pies were handed over and gravy poured through the hole in the crust; tuppence changed hands. Then Serena said, “Pat, I need your professional opinion. I’m looking for a pair of stolen earrings. Rubies and gold, taken by a gentleman on the high toby Wednesday before last.”
Solomon stared at her. “Serena—”
She smiled faintly at his puzzled expression. “Show him your wares, Pat.”
Doyle grinned and turned back the gaudy checkered cloth in which his pies nestled. Watches, billfolds, handkerchiefs, pocket knives, and dozens of other small items were revealed, crowding the bottom of the barrow.
He flicked back the cloth. “I haven’t seen anything of that description, Thorn. But then, I’m not a baubles man and everyone knows it. You ought to try Dina Levy. I doubt anybody’d bring her something that fine, but she keeps her ears open. If she hasn’t heard, you won’t find it in Whitechapel, St. Giles, or Holborn.”
“Dina’s usually at her Lawrence Street house at this time of day, isn’t she?”
“Not now, she’ll be at her daughter’s stall in the Fleet Market for elevenses. Make sure you try the apple fritters. My Bridget’s been trying to get the recipe off Abigail Levy for years now, but Abby’s a stubborn wench.”
“I shall be sure to do so. Well, you’ve been very helpful. Will half a crown suffice?”
Doyle gestured expansively. “Wouldn’t hear of it! You can be in my debt, if you like.”
Serena raised her eyebrows. “I shall owe you a very small favor then. Now, if your young associate will return my friend’s pocketbook, we’ll be on our way.”
Solomon started, feeling for his billfold. Sure enough, it was gone. He looked accusingly at Doyle, who sighed. “It’s a devil of a job training new workers. I’m sure you find it the same at the Arms. Moreen!” he called. “Come here!”
A ragged little girl of perhaps six or seven detached herself from the crowd and came scuttling over. “Yes, sir?”
“Do you know who this lady is, Mo?”
The girl shook her head.
“Look at her face.” Doyle tapped his brow meaningfully.
Mo’s eyes went wide as platters. She stared at Serena’s birthmark with something approaching worship. “You’re the Black Thorn!”
Solomon saw that Serena was trying very hard to make her expression more forbidding and less charmed. She was such a soft touch. “Yes, I’m the Black Thorn. And you’ve stolen my friend Solomon’s pocketbook.”
The little girl’s awe turned to horror. “He’s Solomon Hathaway?” Solomon frowned. She’d heard of him?
Serena nodded.
“Are you going to have my—”
“Not if you give it back,” Serena said very quickly. So she really had put it about that no one was to touch him, in terms so brutal she evidently didn’t want him to hear what they were. And people were genuinely afraid of her. He tried to wrap his mind around that.
Mo fished his pocketbook out of a ragged pocket and handed it back to Solomon, who checked it for fleas under pretense of counting the bills. Sixpence was missing, but he didn’t say anything. “I want to be just like you when I’m grown,” Mo was telling Serena, who looked decidedly taken aback. “I want an inn and people under me, and if anyone touches me I’ll have their—”
“I wish you luck,” Serena interrupted. “Give Bridget my regards,” she told Doyle, and tugged Solomon away.
As they walked away, he could hear Doyle saying, “I’ve told you a hundred times, you