The barkeep shouted for Charlie to quit gabbing and serve customers.
“’Old your bloomin’ ’orses, can’t ye see I’m wif a payin’ customer?” she retorted.
With a wink at Livy, she sashayed off to do her employer’s bidding.
Longmere and his group settled in a private booth at the back of the tavern. Evading groping hands and salacious offers, Livy made her way to an adjacent booth. The etched glass partition between the tables gave her fleeting views of the men as their conversation drifted through.
“The Black Lion is a breath of fresh air,” Edgecombe drawled as he loosened his cravat. In the dim light, his pomaded auburn hair had the slickness of an icy road. “Mayfair can be so stifling at times.”
“Mayfair or m-marriage?”
This came from the man Charlie had identified as Mr. Simon Thorne. Livy recognized his slight stammer from the time she’d eavesdropped in Edgecombe’s study. With his ice-blond hair and sculpted features, Thorne had the look of an angel…if one overlooked the sly gleam in his blue eyes.
“Nothing is as oppressive as the parson’s mousetrap. Especially when one’s papa-in-law holds the purse strings. The bastard pays for my wife’s every whim, from masquerades to jewels. When it comes to my expenses, however, he’s a bloody cheeseparer,” Edgecombe muttered. “You bachelors should enjoy your freedom for as long as you can.”
“I m-might not be able to avoid the shackles of matrimony much longer,” Thorne said mournfully.
“Alas, I am in the same predicament.” Bollinger sighed.
The viscount had curling brown hair and long-lashed brown eyes that gave him a boyish appeal. He downed a tankard with astonishing ease, which probably accounted for the softness of his jaw and waistline.
“All is not lost, fellows.” Stamford’s distinctive nasal tone gave him away. With a narrow face, close-set eyes, and hair gone thin at the top, he lacked the physical graces of his friends. “We still have our enterprise. The last shipment alone netted a thousand pounds apiece.”
“The cargo is the only thing keeping me afloat.” Thorne lowered his voice. “I received confirmation of another d-delivery. Two evenings from now, at Cremorne Gardens.”
“We’ll make a night of it,” Edgecombe said. “Perhaps we’ll finally meet our elusive Chinese friend—”
“Shh,” Bollinger said in a panicked whisper. “You know we’re not supposed to speak of him. He has eyes and ears everywhere.”
When Bollinger scanned the room, Livy hastily averted her gaze. She saw Charlie serving a rowdy table nearby. Although Charlie gave the appearance of flirting with the patrons, playfully slapping a bricklayer’s dusty hand off her derriere, Livy knew her mentor was eavesdropping on the same conversation that she was.
“Very well. Mum’s the word,” Edgecombe said. “We cannot afford to offend our mighty benefactor.”
“I cannot do this anymore.” Longmere suddenly spoke up. “Count me out.”
Out of what? Livy thought. What are you and your cronies up to? What business do you have with this mysterious Chinese friend?
“Don’t be a fool.” Although Edgecombe’s words were low and calm, they had a warning edge. “You need this as much as we do.”
“I don’t give a damn,” Longmere said.
A sudden tingling awareness distracted Livy. Goose pimples prickled her skin. She swung her gaze to the entrance…and her heart stumbled into her ribs.
Zounds, it’s Hadleigh. What is he doing here?
He stood head and shoulders above the crowd, his dark-brown hair gleaming like a pelt beneath his hat. His cravat had a stylish knot, his frock coat and trousers fitting his muscular form like a glove. His lordly, commanding presence caused the longing she’d locked away to break free. Oh, how she’d missed him. With a swoony feeling, she watched the play of light and shadow over his chiseled features as he scanned the crowded tavern. His sapphire gaze narrowed on Longmere’s party…then shifted to her.
Drat. She came to her senses, swiftly turning away. Did he recognize me?
Pulling the coarse blonde curls of her wig over her cheek, she tried to think over her thudding panic. Most people would never recognize her while she was in disguise and all the way across a dimly lit tavern, but this wasn’t most people. This was Hadleigh, and he had a way of seeing right through her.
“Anything I can get you, luv?” Charlie arrived, positioning her body to shield Livy from Hadleigh’s view.
“Hadleigh’s here,” Livy whispered. “I think he spotted me.”
“Take the back exit,” Charlie said under her breath. “Hawker’s parked two blocks away.”
With a slight nod, Livy rose and headed to the closest door. She walked as quickly as she could without looking suspicious. She felt Hadleigh’s presence behind her, but she didn’t dare to glance back. All of a sudden, she heard loud clattering, the sound of coins hitting the floor.
“Oh, dearie me. I’ve dropped me tips.”
Charlie’s dramatic moan was lost in the roar of patrons diving for the money. Livy risked a backward glance and saw the sea of bodies now blocking the path between her and Hadleigh. Reaching the back door, she ducked outside and found herself in an alley bordered by decrepit buildings. She navigated through the fog-cloaked night, rank smells assailing her nose and scurrying sounds making her pulse skitter.
Ew, rats. Never mind, keep going…
“Oof.”
The sound left her as she ran into something. Steadying herself, she looked up…into the face of a brute. Another man emerged behind the first, holding a lamp that illuminated the menacing leers on their faces.
“What ’ave we ’ere, eh?” the first said. “A lost dove?”
Dodging the man’s hand, Livy sized up the threat the way Mrs. Peabody had taught her to.
Two men, big but slow. Three sheets to the wind, by their stench. Overconfident.
“Let me pass, and I won’t hurt you,” she said.
The first brute gave a bark of laughter. “Feisty wench, eh? I like me sport lively.”
He made a grab for her, looking surprised when she parried his move. She did it
