Earls Just Want to Have Fun Read Free Page A

like someone he knows,” Gideon suggested.
    Marlowe shook her head. “I was dressed like a boy, but even if he’d seen through my disguise, he was looking for me. He told me he’d been waiting.”
    â€œBut Gap picked him.”
    â€œI know.” The inspector must have been watching them for several days, noting their movements. It troubled her, but not as much as what he’d said when he’d pulled her into a private doorway. “He said my parents hired him to find me. They want me to come home.”
    â€œSatin said—”
    â€œI know what Satin said. He found me lost and abandoned in a park. He saved me.” But if that was true, why did she remember being loved, being happy? Satin had said she hadn’t known her name, probably hadn’t been given one. He claimed she was the daughter of a bunter—a half beggar, half whore. But she remembered a mother who was soft and smelled sweet. She remembered she’d been sung to and cradled and called Elizabeth.
    As though he’d read her mind, Gideon said, “Are those memories or…” He trailed off, and she filled in the rest. She’d often wondered herself if her remembrances were just wishful thinking. But if they were just fantasies, how did she know that dilly, dilly lullaby? It wasn’t as though she’d heard it in St. Giles.
    â€œSir Brook couldn’t have known about any of that,” she said finally.
    â€œSir Brook?”
    â€œHe said that was his name. He’s an investigator.”
    â€œBow Street? Marlowe, either he’s trying to crimp you, or this is some sort of new rig.” He sped up. “That’s the bookstore.”
    They ducked into the doorway, and Marlowe realized the conversation was over. Gideon was probably right. After all, how likely was it that she was the daughter of a great rum mort? More likely, she was the by-blow of a bunter. Brook had set up some sort of rig, and she was the bubble. But if it was a game, it was a good one. He’d even known when to walk away. He’d caught her attention and then told her to come to him if she was interested in meeting her parents. And then he’d walked away, leaving her standing on Piccadilly with her mouth hanging open. He hadn’t even asked for his blunt back.
    â€œSo what are you going to do?” Gideon asked as they waited for the boys to join them.
    â€œNothing,” she said. She hadn’t exactly decided, but if she told Gideon she was considering Sir Brook’s offer, he’d give her a long lecture about what a bad idea that was. And Gideon would be right. As Satin liked to point out, he spent a lot of time and effort training her and the other cubs. He’d fed them, clothed them, sheltered them. He took it personally when one of his cubs ran away. Few did so more than once. And if a boy did run away again, he was likely to be found floating in the Thames.
    Marlowe had only ever tried to run away once, when she was about twelve. For her pains, Satin had beaten her to within an inch of her life. As she’d lain there, bleeding and crying, he’d leaned close to her ear and said, “I will never let you go, Marlowe. You’re too valuable to me. I’d rather you were dead than free.”
    â€œSatin will never let me go,” she said.
    â€œHe has plans for you,” Gideon said without looking at her. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets and looked as if he didn’t care what Satin planned, but Marlowe had a feeling Gideon didn’t approve. “A big racket. He’ll have to cut line without you, and he’s invested too much for that.”
    Marlowe suspected Satin was saving her for a big racket. She’d seen him whispering with Beezle on several occasions. Once or twice, they’d glanced her way. It was no surprise. She was the best thief the Covent Street Cubs had. But the better the suit, the more likely she’d be caught and