she knew it was what she must do. She swept across the disgusting floor, skirting tables and debauchery in varying degrees, until she reached Jeremiah Jones.
Randall awaited her, she reminded herself as her courage faltered, and he would protect her with his very life, though she hoped this night would not come to that. Still, they were in a particularly ugly, mangy part of the rookeries. One never knew what was going to happen.
“Jeremiah Jones?” she asked.
He cocked his head, eying Caro rudely as he squeezed the bare breast of the woman on his lap, making her giggle. “Who wants to know?”
The woman’s giggle sounded forced, and Caro tried to thrust that, and the blatant nudity, from her mind.
“Caroline Sutton,” she said, lifting her chin. “Jasper Sutton’s sister.”
Jones raised a pale brow. “I know ’im. Can’t say as I like ’im much.”
Caro remained undeterred. “I’m sure the feeling is mutual, sir. But I didn’t come here to speak with you about my brother.”
“Oh? And aren’t you a bold one? Did you come looking for me this evening, love?” He leered at her even as he plucked at the nipple of the unfortunate woman in his lap.
The blonde’s head lolled back, and Caro wondered if the woman was hopelessly soused, or if she had merely numbed herself to her surroundings. Likely, a combination of both.
“I did,” Caro confirmed. “I need to speak with you.”
“Speak?” The giant’s hand moved rudely beneath the blonde’s gown. “Is that what you’re callin’ it?”
The men at his table guffawed. The woman on his lap squirmed, then let out a moan that sounded quite rehearsed.
“That is what I’m calling it because that is what it is, Mr. Jones,” she said coldly, reminding herself that confronting this despicable man was what she needed to do to help Gavin.
And to keep him from becoming Jeremiah Jones’s next victim.
Jones grinned, revealing a chipped tooth she had no doubt had been damaged in one of his bareknuckle matches. “We can talk all you like. The three of us.” He squeezed the breast of the woman on his lap once more. “Isn’t that right, pet?” he growled into the woman’s ear.
The woman ogled Caro. “She’s a small one. Tiny bubbies, Jerry. Wot do y’want with ’er? I’ll make you ’appy, I will. No need for ’er.”
Caro tried not to grimace at the suggestion she join Jones and the woman in his lap in something carnal in nature. “My business is with you, Mr. Jones. No one else. Is there a private room we can visit so we may better converse?”
“What’s in it for me?” he asked, swilling his ale.
“Balsam,” she told him, hoping the money she could promise him—every last ha’penny she possessed for her part in running The Sinner’s Palace—would be enough to persuade Jones to cry off the match with Gavin.
“Jasper Sutton’s sister offering me coin. I’m curious, I am.” Jones winked, then unceremoniously shoved the blonde woman from his lap, delivering a sound slap to her rump as he did so. “I’ll be back, Mary. Wait for me.”
The woman tugged at her bodice, barely gaining her footing before being hauled into the lap of one of the other men about the table. “The name’s Margaret, lovey,” she called toward Jones.
But the great, hulking beast had already risen from his seat. And he was looming over Caro now with a predatory smile curving his lips. “Come with me, sweeting. I’ll ’ear what you ’ave to say.”
She swallowed down a lump of fear, telling herself that she was a Sutton. She had come of age in the rookeries. There was nothing she had not seen, done, or heard. And yet, she could not shake the inexplicable sense of dread filling her, curling its icy fingers around her heart.
There was something about Jeremiah Jones… The man radiated evil.
Still, if it meant keeping Gavin safe, she would face any demon, fight any battle.
Because she loved him, and because she owed him that much and more.
She followed Jeremiah Jones through the boisterous rabble in the Beggar’s Purse, to a private room.
Gavin had an aching back and head, a mouth that tasted of sour arrack, and a dim recollection of what had happened the night before, beyond all the spirits he’d swilled with his brothers Demon, Blade, and Devil. Strange how consuming too much of the poison could decimate his memory, same as the beating he’d taken to the idea pot.
He groaned as his eyes fluttered open, taking in his surroundings. It appeared to be