The devil twin

Even he needs to sleep

*Jay*

After another day in her company, I still don’t quite trust her not to slip out and follow Rockberry. So after escorting her to her door, I ride the carriage around the corner, hop out, and order the driver to return to Claybourne’s. I then take up my post outside Miss Newmoon’s lodgings.

I don’t know what possessed me to reveal so much of my past to her. After all these years, the anger over the injustice of my father’s punishment still rips through me. I don’t need the fury now. I need a clear, cool head to deal with Miss Newmoon. But that’s asking almost too much. What is it about her that intrigues me so? She is innocence, but she also possesses determination. Like me, she seeks justice. How can I ignore her need to avenge her sister when everything I do is in the name of my father?

If this were a private matter, if I had been personally hired by Rockberry to spy on Miss Newmoon, I could handle things very differently. But as I’ve been ordered to follow her, my position requires a bit more discretion. I can’t simply go to Rockberry’s residence and give him a good flogging.

I wait until darkness descends. I see the faint light easing between the draperies in her window. I watch her silhouette pass in front of the window and stop. Then it continues on. I wonder if she will comb her hair tonight. If I should stay. I glance around. No one is about. I shouldn’t be either. I begin walking up the street. I will see her again tomorrow. For the first time in a long time, I anticipate the next day.

I awaken to the pounding on my door. Rolling out of bed, I pull on my trousers and button them as I cross into the living area and go to the door. Opening it, I step back as Sir David strides by me.

“She followed him to The Full Moon Club. You were supposed to keep an eye on her,” Sir David says without preamble.

I fight to suppress my yawn. “I watched her lodgings until after dark. She was there when I left. She must have gone out later.”

“What time did you leave?”

I shrug. “Perhaps an hour after the gaslights were lit.”

“You don’t know what time, do you, because you won’t carry a damned watch. Blast it, man! If you weren’t so good at what you do, I wouldn’t tolerate your idiosyncrasies.”

“If I’m so good, then why give me this assignment that requires none of my skills?”

“Rockberry asked for you by name. Apparently he saw your name in the Alpha Times for one crime solved or another.”

“But why cater to his whims?” I ask.

He gives a weak shake of his head, “Because he is powerful and influential. Now about the she-wolf…”

“I must sleep sometime.”

Sir David plows his hands through his black hair. He isn’t much older than me, but already his hair is graying at the temples. “Quite right.”

“Sir David, Rockberry did more than dance with Elisabeth. He trifled with her.”

“It’s unconscionable, but not a crime. He’s certain Miss Eden Newmoon means him harm.”

“She’s not a danger to him.”

Sir David stills and scrutinizes me. “Are you a hundred percent certain?”

Am I? If I say yes, the assignment might very likely come to an end. And if Rockberry learns that no one is watching her, he might decide to take matters into his own hands. Besides, I suddenly want to spend time with her, very much.

“Right then,” Sir David says, as though he’s read all the thoughts crossing my mind. “Keep an eye on her, and for Goddess’s sake keep her away from Rockberry.”

“Yes, sir.”

*****

Late in the afternoon, I again borrow Claybourne’s carriage, and the she-wolf is again dressed in pink. I wonder if years from now I will remember her as the she-wolf in pink, for I have no doubt that in my dotage when I reminisce about my most fascinating cases, she will come to mind. Not that I find much to recommend the case itself for further reflection, but the she-wolf is another matter.

She is a bit of freshness in my life, a life that has become stale by all I’ve witnessed. I consider asking her about her late night surveillance of Rockberry, have even considered driving by The Full Moon Club to gauge her reaction, but I am so damned tired of Rockberry being even a hint of a conversation. I selfishly want today for myself, for Eden. I want to give the impression I am a suitor… and a suitor wouldn’t talk of another man. Even though I know I can never be a true suitor to her, I can have this little bit of time with her.

I love watching the way she enjoys the gardens as the carriage rolls through one after another. She laughs when I don’t know the names of the flowers. She points out her favorites, but even if she hadn’t, I would have known. Pinks and lavenders. Pale colors. Softness. Nothing bright. Nothing harsh.

Then she surprises me by asking, “Will you take me through the part of Blackrock City where you grew up?”

She might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water on me. I’ve been considering seducing her, but the filth that has been my life as a boy would make any she-wolf squirm with distaste at the thought of my hands touching her.

“It’s not nearly as beautiful as the gardens,” I say, hoping to dissuade her from pursuing that path.

“But it would tell me a bit more about your life.”

I know I should be flattered that she has an interest in my past, might have an interest in me. While I know I can never leave it behind completely, that it is woven into the fabric of my character, I have no desire for her to actually see the specifics. “Allow me to paint a picture: it was dirty, smelly, and crowded.”

“I’ve noticed that much of Blackrock City is dirty, smelly, and crowded.”

“Not like the rookeries. It is absent of hope. It is not a place that allows dreams. It’s drearily dismal.”

She looks at me as though I’ve opened up my chest and shown her my heart. “You’re ashamed of your past.”

“I’m disgusted by it, yes.”

Angry at her and my words, I avert my gaze. How has she managed to take control of the conversation and direct it away from where it belongs… with me learning about her?

I am aware of her small hand covering the tight fist balled on my thigh. She squeezes gently. “You rose above your origins, Mr. Swindler. That’s to be admired. While I’ve heard tales of the rookeries, without actually seeing them, I can’t fully appreciate them.”

I twist my head around to look at her, knowing my eyes and voice hold a hard, implacable determination. “That’s my point, Miss Newmoon. There is nothing about them to appreciate.”

I wonder what she is thinking as she studies my face, wonder exactly what it reveals. The harshness of the life I’ve led? How, as I’ve grown older, as I become more knowledgeable in the way of things, I came to abhor the life I’ve lived? How the first time I felt any pride was when I led a constable to a boy who’d pilfered a money purse in order that the innocent boy who’d been arrested for the offense would be set free? How a gang of other boys beat me up for squealing on their mate… and so I learned to be secretive in my dealings with the police?

Even the rights and wrongs in life aren’t crystal clear. Compromises are made for the greater good. The problem there is: who decides the greater good?

I’ve had the audacity on more than one occasion to believe it’s me. Even now as I seek to gain her trust, to discover her plans, I’m not certain I’ll provide Sir David or Rockberry with any information that could be of any use to them.

“You’re a complicated man, Mr. Swindler,” she finally says.

“Not complicated at all.” I unfurl my fist, turn my hand over, and thread my fingers through hers. “All I need is a lovely she-wolf to provide me with company.”

I watch her delicate throat work as she swallows. “You claimed to be a scoundrel.”

I give her one of my more charming smiles. “The evening is only just arriving, Miss Newmoon.”

I’d planned to only be in her company for a couple of hours, but at the end of that time I’m not yet ready to let her go. Besides, if she is determined to seek Rockberry out at night, then I am obligated to keep her occupied. I’ve learned nothing while, if she is a perceptive she-wolf… which I have little doubt she is… she’s learned a great deal. It bothers me that I can so easily reveal part of my soul to her. But it is only parts, bits, and pieces that she’ll never be able to fit together properly in order to create the whole. I’m not even certain I know the whole fabric of my being any longer.

When I became one of Feagan’s lads, I chose a new name for myself: Swindler. While it is my nature to swindle others, of late I’m beginning to suspect that perhaps I’ve even managed to swindle myself into believing that my only interest in the she-wolf stems from her fascination with Rockberry. Otherwise, rather than taking her home, why did I return her to the Pleasure Gardens?

“Why ever have you brought me here?” she asks as the driver brings the carriage to a halt on King’s Road.

“You’ve seen the worst of the gardens. I thought you should see the best.” I step out of the carriage and hold out my hand to her. “We’ll leave long before the swells begin arriving.”