A Scandalous Lady Read Free

faster than spit on a stick and shoved it into his mouth. Like most of her fellow knucks, he had the look of a street rat stamped all over him—gaunt features born of too few meals, too much trouble, and far more misery than a boy his age should ever know. He claimed not to know his parents, but he had the look of gypsy stock. Black, stringy hair, thick brows, dark eyes, and a sharp nose. Hell, he could be the long-lost heir to a foreign throne for all either of them knew. What Fanny did know was that he’d attached himself to her almost from the minute he’d landed his skinny arse in Jack Swift’s band. Though six years her junior, he was the closest she could claim to family. She often thought of him as a younger brother, and had made it her duty to watch out for him. Why, she had yet to figure. He was as useful as a sore tooth.
    â€œZounds, Fan—what ’appened to you?”
    She ducked her head, though too late to hide Jack’s handprint on her face. “None of your bloody business.”
    â€œJack popped you again, didn’t ’e?”
    She saw no point in denying it and gave a short nod.
    â€œDoes it hurt?”
    â€œHe’s done worse.” Fanny reached under her pallet for a tattered black rucksack that she’d swiped fair and square from a sotted seaman who’d been generous enough to leave it unattended. In the distance, she heard Jack’s voice rise in displeasure. She felt sorry for his latest victim. “What’s got him in such a temper?” she asked Scatter as he all but inhaled what constituted the day’s meal.
    Scatter licked crumbs from his fingers. “Charlie got tumbled t’day down at Hanover Square.”
    Fanny snapped around in surprise. “Charlie what ?”
    â€œÂ â€™E tried to rook a copper and got pinched.”
    â€œA copper! Did he lose his mind?”
    Scatter only shrugged.
    â€œHe didn’t squeal, did he?”
    â€œWouldn’t surprise me none if ’e did,” the boy said. “ ’E always was a gutless bloke.”
    Fanny shoved her leather case into the rucksack. “He can’t be too gutless else he wouldn’t have fanned a fox.”
    â€œThat weren’t gutless, that was stupid.”
    She couldn’t argue that. She turned away, reeling from the news. Good God, how had Charlie made such a stupid call? Knucks were trained from the moment they joined Gentleman Jack Swift’s band on how to sniff out a patrolman, since not all wore the trade brass-buttoned uniforms and round-topped hats. No, some dressed the part of a dandy to catch the unsuspecting in the hopes that they’ll spill the whereabouts of their cohorts. Others blended in so well with their surroundings that you couldn’t tell one from a market-monger.
    But Charlie Topp was no green dipper—he’d been with the band near as many years as her and Scatter and knew the tricks of the police. So what had he been thinking to bilk a bobbie?
    She turned back to stuffing her pack with a change of clothes, a brush with most of the bristles broken off, and as an afterthought, a ragged old Phillip Goldsmith doll she’d carried around with her for as long as she could remember. If she didn’t bag a decent purse this night, there would be no coming back.
    Well, at least she knew what had Jack in such a vile mood. Best just do as he said—at least he’d given her a good reason to keep clear of him. She looped the strap of her bag over her head so it crossed her front and hung high against her ribs.
    â€œWhere ye goin’?”
    â€œOut.”
    â€œNow? It’s rainin’ cats and dogs.”
    â€œDo you really think that matters to Jack?” Scatter knew as well as she that if she didn’t find a decent mark this night, there would be no supper for the week. Or worse, she shuddered, he’d decide that she’d outlived her usefulness and put her out on the streets