Page 29 of The Unfortunate Debutante
“You’re doing me the favor,” she assured him.
He deposited the coins into his pocket. “What do ye want to know?”
“I’m writing an article about the Corn Laws, and I wanted to meet with a few members of,” she hesitated, “the rebels.”
Jerome sighed as he looked up at the rafters. After a moment, he brought his gaze back down. “I’m sure the members would be willing to speak to you, assuming you’d be willing to make a small donation to the cause.”
Emma felt her excitement growing, but she worked to keep her face expressionless. “That would be my pleasure.”
“We’re meeting tomorrow night at nine,” he revealed. “We meet in the upstairs hall.”
“I’ll be here,” she assured him.
Jerome perused her gown and remarked, “It might be best if you borrowed a gown from my sister. It may help you blend in better.”
“I think I shall.”
Shifting his gaze over her shoulder, he said, “Make sure you bring your guard with you, as well. This is a bad part of town during the day, but it becomes downright devilish at night.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “I didn’t bring a guard with me.”
“Really? Then who’s he?” he asked, pointing over her shoulder.
Emma followed the direction of his finger, and her heart stopped when she saw who he was pointing to. Mr. Simeon Martin. And judging by the scowl on his face, it was clear that he was not pleased to see her, either.
Mr. Martin walked slowly over to her, his step emanating power and confidence, and he didn’t stop until he was in front of her.
“Miss Pearson,” he growled, “what in blazes do you think you’re doing?”
Bringing her hand up to her chest, she feigned outrage. “Language, Mr. Martin. My delicate constitution cannot handle your vulgar choice of words.”
Mr. Martin clenched his jaw so tight that a muscle pulsated under his right ear. Perhaps it was not the right time to tease the man, she thought, as she took a step back.
His hand reached out and grabbed her arm. He turned his gaze towards Jerome. “Is there a back door to this public house?”
Jerome nodded. “There is. Follow me,” he said, leading them through the crowd.
Mr. Martin kept a firm hold on her as they followed behind Jerome. She gave him a side glance. “I can walk perfectly well on my own.”
“I have no doubt about your walking ability. It’s your sanity that I call into question,” he huffed.
They reached a closed door in the rear of the room. Jerome pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked it.
“Go, before anyone sees you,” he encouraged.
Mr. Martin led her into the dimly lit alley, and her kid slippers slipped on the grime-coated ground. She brought her hand up to cover her nose.
“What is that horrid smell?” she asked.
“Urine and excrement,” he answered without sparing her a glance.
They had just stepped out of the alleyway when three men pushed off from the wall of the public house and approached them. They were all of similar height and were covered in a thick layer of filth, but that’s where the resemblance stopped. The first man had a dark face and restless eyes, whereas the second man had a shapeless face with large, pale eyes, and the last man had a long, pointy nose.
Mr. Martin released her arm and corralled her back behind him. “Step aside,” he ordered.
The dark-faced man chuckled. “I don’t think so, mate.”
“I am not yourmate,” Mr. Martin replied, his hands forming into tight balls.
