The Dastardly Miss Lizzie by Viola Carr

Author:Viola Carr
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062363138
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

NOTHING LESS THAN A LIFER

A FINGER ON ELIZA’S LIPS JERKED HER AWAKE.

She recoiled into her pillows, blinded by daylight. “Who’s there—mmph!” A hand fastened over her mouth. A long-fingered hand, oddly familiar.

She struggled, but the sheets trapped her. The weight of a body. Cold sweat broke out. Was it the book thief? She’d be killed in her bed. Or dishonored by a ham-fisted robber, or . . . Images of Malachi Todd chewed her nerves, that greedy flash of steel. “Mmph! Blmphm!”

“Don’t mean no harm.” A man’s voice, strange but not strange. “Don’t you know me?”

At last, her eyes adjusted. Wild black hair, mismatched dark eyes.

Oh, my. She froze. Johnny eased his hand away. “There y’are. Quiet-like. No trouble.”

Breathless, she scooted back, dragging the sheets up to her chin. Bluff. Pretend I don’t know him. Get him out of my house. “How did you get in here?”

He just shrugged. Stupid question. Johnny was a thief, after all. Tall, loose-limbed, wearing a dusty coat whose hue transcended the word yellow. A pleasant enough sort, if you enjoyed underfed rogues who washed less often than they lied.

Eliza shivered, the unfamiliar bedroom no comfort. Had Johnny known about her and Lizzie all along? How had he found this house? Had he followed her? Watched her after all, that morning she thought she’d slipped from his bed unnoticed?

“Well, I’ve no idea what you want, but—”

“Please.” His eyes held black desperation. “I wouldn’t come here, and I ain’t asking questions. God knows it’s none of mine. But Eddie’s in trouble and I need Lizzie right now.”

Her throat parched, a sour prickly taste. That dark alchemy mixture Lizzie had so triumphantly quaffed. What would the effects be? Would her elixir even work anymore?

“What kind of trouble?”

“Ain’t for a lady’s ears, miss. Begging your pardon.”

Such a pretty thing, whispered her father’s voice gleefully in her ear. Let me show you . . .

She didn’t want to know. But the thought of Crane’s letter to Hyde itched, unresolved . . . and an idea struck her. One hundred pounds was a lot of money. Too much for Hyde to entrust to any grotty reprobate who happened by. “Answer me this, then. Did you deliver a sum of money for Mr. Hyde last evening? To Red Lion Square?”

A fluid shrug.

Aha! “Did the lady there say for whom it was intended?”

“Some cove she called ‘that dirty-minded eavesdropper.’ “ The ghost of a sly, attractive grin. “For you, that’s free.”

“Generous of you, sir,” she said coldly. “And did you lay eyes on this lascivious listener?”

A velvety head-shake. “Offered to stay and cosh the bastard, but she wouldn’t have it.”

“I see. I’m afraid she died last night. Murdered.”

“Oh.” He looked faintly incensed. “Waste o’ coin, then.”

“I suppose so.”

Silence stretched. Warm skin, stroking fingers, the sweet scent of flowers . . .

Awkwardly, Johnny stood, cracking multiple knuckles. He didn’t seem to know where to look. “I’ll linger out front,” he said, and silent as a breath, he slipped out.

Eliza banged her head back against the bed frame.

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