Page 34 of Wake Me Most Wickedly
It had taken another few outings for Hannah to find the stranger’s mark. But she’d succeeded and been paid. With both funds and a note promising additional work in the future. Something that couldn’t come too soon. Especially as the only other job she’d been offered was to act as a lure in a burglary. Much more dangerous than her usual work, even if the crew was all Jews. But if no one else came to her—it was something she might have to consider. Later.
Meanwhile, in the intervening time, she’d not thought about Sol.
Fine, not thought about Solmuch.
At least not during the day and when she was out and about. Just a touch at night, when she was in her bed, staring at the ceiling, when something like regret choked off her air. Which was ridiculous. What had she to regret? That she hadn’t kissed him more? Or done more than kiss him in those moments before she left? When she wanted with everything in her being to stay?
Despite the fact that he couldn’t possibly truly want her. And even if he did, she couldn’t want him because it would be wrong. Both for him and Tamar—the person for whom she cared most. And while she owed himnothing, Tamar was an entirely other story. The only story.
Which was why she should’ve never gone inside his home in the first place, never tempted herself. No matter how painfully kind he was to her. And how much heat there was between them.
Because heat and want weren’t care. And they weren’t respect. And they weren’t even like. They certainly weren’t the basis for—no, heat and want only brought trouble. She should know. Hannah brushed her skirt, shaking out that memory, locking it away whence it came, and instead stretched her back as she dusted off the main counter with a rag.
It was nearing closing time, and she and Tamar had been on their feet all day despite the fact that the stream of customers was noticeably lighter than it had been in years. An aberration, hopefully, because if Ned made good on the rest of his threat… or morewhenNed made good on the rest of his threat well… oy… the stranger better have more jobs. They still had rent to pay and food to buy, not to mention it cost money to make money.
Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose. Best not think of that now. Not while what little business they still had was about.
“Ho, look now.” Her sister whispered, hand on Hannah’s arm, as the door swung open and a tall, commanding form entered. “The trade is hot,” she whispered, excitement in her voice.
“It is.” Hannah nodded before giving the man her brightest smile as he dropped two mismatched silver buttons in front of her. “What have we here?” she murmured, holding each up in a faux inspection eventhough it’d been clear from the start that only the larger, but coarser, of the two was fit for resale. The smaller, though finer, piece was worth quite a sum; however, the hallmarks of its theft could be spotted a block away, including the telltale ripped, not worn, stray thread hanging from the back. Which, given that he had the dress and weaponry of a professional, made the lack of care odd to say the least.
And it rankled her suspicions.
“Sorry, sir,” she said, pushing both back to him. “Unfortunately, we don’t have a place for either of these today. But please, feel free to come back anytime.”
The customer paused, staring at her, making Hannah shiver a touch. However, he did not argue. Instead, with a glare and a grunt, he took his leave.
Hannah tugged and twisted a loose lock of hair as her blood still pumped in her ears. Not just from the interaction, but because of the one it recalled, so many years ago. The one that destroyed the life her family had created for themselves—the one she’d worked so hard to rebuild for her sister.
If you like these, just wait. There’s more.The voice echoed in her head, taunting her. If she had only said, “Not today,” back then instead of inviting him to return, thinking not of the danger but of the gowns and perfumes and supposedly eye-catching enhancements that could be used to entice men to want her in the light as well as the dark, opening her family’s door to the vengeance, if only, everything would be—
“Setup?” Tamar asked, breaking her free from the memories of the past.
“Almost certainly. Though not a particularly clever one.” Hannah grabbed the broom from against thewall, her hands still shaking. “Nevertheless, that’s the fourth attempt this month. Is something happening in the gentile world?” she asked. While there was a possibility Ned was behind it, such a scheme felt too subtle for him.
“Not that I know of.” Tamar shrugged as she tested the lockboxes. “Though the Kellys had to close.”
Hannah paused. That was news. And not the good kind. “Why?” she asked. After all, the Kellys had been in the trade at least as long as her family. And while smaller in size, they boasted a slightly more reputable clientele as well as a more desirable space. Enough so that they sneered and whispered every time the sisters passed.
And moreover, they were at the top of the pecking order in the neighborhood. So if a reordering was going to occur, they’d be warned.
“Moved.” Tamar gave a shrug before picking up the rag that Hannah had abandoned for the broom.
“Moved?” She frowned. “Where would they move to?”
“Don’t ask me.” Tamar sniffed before lowering her voice. “There was a constable poking around. Asking a great deal of questions. No arrests though. It’s doubtful they’d fall for someone like, well, the one who just came in here but… yes, there was definite interest from the law.”
And that sent a chill down her spine. While the new metropolitan police force didn’t have quite the same antagonistic relationship with her family as the Bow Street Runners had—the self-righteous men who’d salivated for years, waiting for their family to slip and be made an “example of” so they could prove how much they protected the “innocent”—they certainly weren’tfriends. Nevertheless, though violence was supposed to be their primary target, the “decline in morality” in certain parts of the city was definitely piquing their interest. And certain people were more curious than others.
“You’re being careful too, right? Asking enough questions?” Hannah leaned against the broom, searching her sister’s face.
“Yes, of course. I’m not a fool, Hannah,” Tamar snapped. “And I’m not a child. I know what stolen goods look like. And which we can fence and which we can’t.” She huffed in exasperation. “You know I’d be better at the work if you actually permitted me to help.”
“You should be doing better things with your time. Making friends, reading books, being loved and adored. The business is my responsibility, not yours,” Hannah said, and reached down to brush a loose strand of her sister’s hair out of her face. “You’re too smart and beautiful and good to waste your days with this dreck.” She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out a glass-tipped hairpin whose owner never returned for it, and sliding it into Tamar’s hair. “And I promise, soon all your days will be spent in ways befitting who you are.” As soon as she could afford a proper dowry. Which meant more dangerous work as soon as she heard from the stranger.
Which meant getting Tamar away from the world that would always be hers.
An unbidden image of Sol Weiss popped into her head. Oy. She was a mess.Hisworld was certainly not for her. If he knew, truly knew and understood what she had done and did—Hannah shook her head. It didn’t matter. She would never see him again.
