Never Less Than A Lady | Herophine

Chapter Twenty Nine

Hero

Rob Carmichael responded to Hero's note by setting up a meeting at Rob's home on the morning of the ball. Hero was glad it would be daylight. The area near Covent Garden wasn't the worst in London, but it certainly wasn't the best.

Hero's hired cab dropped him off on a nearby street and he walked the last blocks. The neighborhood was quiet at midmorning, but he stayed alert.

Not alert enough. He'd almost reached Rob's home when a hard object was jammed into his back. A deep voice growled, "Yer money or yer life!"

Hero slammed an elbow into his assailant's ribs. The man made a strangled sound.

Whirling, Hero knocked his attacker's legs from under him with a scythe kick, then whipped out his concealed knife. The man, a roughly dressed laborer, went sprawling. Felix had taught his classmates Kalarip payattu, an Indian fighting, when they were boys. Hero had later acquired practical battlefield fighting experience. The results were usually quite adequate.

Hero sheathed the knife when he got a good look at the ragged laborer. "Lucky I recognized you before serious damage was done, Rob," he said with dry amusement.

"lt always underestimate how fast you are," the Runner said in his normal voice as he rose lithely to his feet. "I thought I'd be home and cleaned up before you arrived for our meeting, but my previous business took longer than expected."

"And naturally you couldn't resist testing me." Hero scanned his friend as they resumed walking. "I'd shake hands, but I might catch some revolting disease. What did you stick in my ribs?"

"A kottukampu. It's a short stick used in Kalarip payattu." Rob showed him a shaped piece of wood as thick as a thumb and about a handspan long.

Hero studied it with interest. "I never saw Felix use anything like this."

"It's an advanced technique that he didn't know." Rob tucked the small weapon inside his coat. "I learned how to use it while I was in India. I prefer to keep this handy rather than a knife because I'm less likely to kill someone accidentally."

"And they say that soldiers live dangerous lives," Hero remarked. "I suspect that life in Wellington's army is peaceful compared to what you do."

"Most of my days are peaceful enough. But a Bow Street Runner who expects safety will have a short career." The old building where Rob lived had a pawnshop on the ground floor and a flat above. Rob unlocked the door to the stairwell beside the pawnshop and ushered Hero inside.

When they'd climbed a flight of shabby stairs and gone through another locked door, they reached Rob's quarters. The main sitting room was surprisingly comfortable and furnished with military neatness. Rob's man, Harvey, came out to check who'd arrived. Battered and broad with muscle, he was formidable despite his wooden leg.

Recognizing Hero, he gave a nod of recognition. "G'day, Major." Then he disappeared into the rear of the flat.

"Give me a few minutes to restore myself," Rob said as he followed Harvey out.

Hero settled into a chair by the window and took one of the day's newspapers from the stack on the side table, but he had trouble concentrating on the news. Tonight was Josephine's grand ball, and she would enjoy the evening more when the uncertainty about Xander's bastard was resolved. Hero was reluctantly curious about the boy himself.

Ten minutes later, Rob returned carrying a tray with a steaming pot of coffee and two cups. Gone were the wild hair and the ragged, filthy garments. His friend wore the neat, unobtrusive clothing of a gentleman of modest means. This was as much a disguise as the beggar's outfit, but the mode of dress allowed him to travel in places high and low without attracting much attention. His lean build and brown hair were unremarkable. Only Rob's cool blue eyes suggested that he was more than he seemed.