One hand clamped to his knee, Thackery staggered up to lean against the soot-stained brick wall behind him, his breath coming hard and fast. Sebastian kicked again, this time aiming at the dustbin. It toppled over with a cascading crash of broken glass and animal bones that knocked the other man off his feet in a swill of stinking refuse. Leaping over the strewn garbage, Sebastian managed to take two steps toward the mouth of the alley before Thackery came off the wall at him.
Big and enraged, the man caught Sebastian in a rush that carried him across the alley to slam him up against the far wall. The impact sent the breath whooshing out of Sebastian. He was dimly aware of light spilling down the steps as the door to the first floor opened above them. Then Thackery picked Sebastian up bodily and pinned him to the bricks.
Gripping his hands together, Sebastian pyramided his forearms and drove them up, intending to break the pugilist’s grip on his jacket. It didn’t work. Nonplussed, he hammered his doubled fist down into the man’s face. Thackery grunted but stood firm.
His hands still locked together, Sebastian swung his doubled fists back, then slammed them into the side of Thackery’s head. He still didn’t budge.
“That’s enough,” said Ian Kane from the top of the steps. “Let him go.”
Thackery hesitated.
“You heard me. Let him go.”
Breathing heavily, his face red, Thackery took a step back and let Sebastian slide down the wall.
Sebastian straightened his lapels and adjusted the folds of his cravat.
“Since you’re here, you might as well come up,” said Ian Kane, resplendent in buckskin breeches and a silk paisley dressing gown in swirls of red and blue.
“Thank you,” said Sebastian, aware of Thackery’s angry gaze following him as he picked up his hat and mounted the steps.
“Some ale?” asked Kane, leading the way into a comfortable old parlor with gleaming wainscoting and an elaborately carved stone hearth.
“Please,” said Sebastian, his gaze on the carved caryatids holding up the mantel. “Lovely piece.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
Sebastian surveyed the damage to his hat. “I’ve been hearing some interesting tales about the Academy.”
“You know what they say,” said Kane, going to pour two glasses of ale. “You don’t want t’be believing everything you hear.”
“No denying that,” agreed Sebastian. “For instance, I heard there were only two women missing from your house—Rose Fletcher and Hannah Green. Now I discover there’s actually a third. Hessy Abrahams.”
Kane’s head came up just a shade too fast. But otherwise, he gave nothing away. He held out one of the glasses of ale. “It seems you know more about my establishment than I do.”
“Do I?” said Sebastian, taking the ale. “It’s my understanding Hessy Abrahams didn’t run away like the others. She was murdered.”
Kane raised his own glass to his lips. “You must have been talking to one of my competitors. They’re always spreading dastardly tales about me.”
“Actually, I’ve been talking to Maggie McQueen.”
“Ah. Dear Maggie. I wondered where she’d taken herself off to.”
Sebastian held his ale without tasting it. “Something rather spectacular happened in your house on Wednesday of last week, Kane. What was it?”
Kane shrugged. “I wasn’t there.”
“Maybe. But nothing happens in one of your houses that you don’t know about.”
A smile lit up the other man’s eyes. “I heard that Bow Street magistrate—Sir William—died of an apoplectic fit in his own public office.”
“Well, you can’t believe everything you hear.”
Kane gave a short bark of laughter and went to stretch out in an upholstered seat near the fire. “Very well. You like stories, Lord Devlin? I’ll tell you a story. Once upon a time there were three gentlemen out on the town. Like most young men, they had a perennial itch in their pants. As ill luck would have it, they chose to scratch their itch at the Orchard Street Academy. They selected three Cyprians and disappeared up the stairs with them. After that, I’m afraid, the tale becomes rather murky. The next thing we know, one of the gentlemen is raising a dust because his particular Bird of Paradise has flown—without, it seems, performing the services for which he had already handed over a substantial sum. Prime articles in my establishment do not come cheap, you understand.”
“And his lady of choice was?”
“Hannah Green. Miss Lil was still looking for dear Hannah when she discovered Hessy.”
“With her neck broken.”
“You’ve heard this tale before.”
“Not in its entirety,” said Sebastian. “And the gentleman who had selected Hessy?”
“Disappeared.”
“Like Hannah Green,” said Sebastian.
“That’s right.”
