The two of them had been to his house when Mila was there. In fact, the blond one had commented on her in front of Jack, making rude assumptions about just what sort of girl she was, and whether or not he might “have a go.”

Jack hadn’t killed him then because it had been broad daylight and there were witnesses. However, he didn’t feel quite so particular this time.

Hands in his pockets, he adopted a lazy slouch and approached the table, Jasper and Wildcat close behind. As he neared them, he saw that one had crutches and his arm in a sling while the other had a splint over his wrist and hand. The tips of his fingers were purple and swollen. They looked as though they had been used very badly by someone who knew how to inflict damage.

He almost smiled. That was his girl.

“’Ello, boys,” he greeted with a predatory grin as he joined them.

The blond looked warily to his darker companion. “Dandy,” he said.

“You two look as though you ’ad a bit of an altercation wiv somefin nasty. Mind if I inquire as to what that was?”

“A gang,” the smaller one said.

Jack kept his smile easy. “Lyin’ to me ain’t a good path to go down, mate.”

Wildcat leaned in and smelled them both. “They reek of her.”

The dark one shoved her. “Get off, bitch.”

She laid open his cheek with one easy swipe of her claws—and claws was the only word to describe them.

The bloke swore and reached for a weapon, but then Jack blinked and Jasper was behind the table, a pistol pointed at each fellow’s head. “I’d rethink any thoughts of violence you might be entertainin’,” the American advised. “That’s my lady you just insulted, and I’m a mite sensitive where she’s concerned, so I’m sure you’ll understand that I just might twitch and blow your useless heads off. Move and speak carefully now.”

This was someone Jack could see himself working with in the future. Very useful indeed were his new American friends. He leaned down, placed both his palms on the scarred tabletop, ignoring that it was sticky beneath his fingers. “Let’s give this anover go, shall we? Now, I know the two of you miscreants crossed paths with my girl. I know that she did the world a disservice by lettin’ you walk away, but she’s better than me in that respect.” He looked at one and then the other, making eye contact until he felt them fall under his spell. “Where is she? Tell me quick and you’ll walk out of ’ere with all your bits still attached.”

The blond looked ill. “She went across the street. Brick place. Woman let her in.”

“There, that wasn’t so ’ard, was it?” Jack gave them both a small, cold smile. “Go near her again and I’ll personally see to it that you spend the rest of your days pissin’ out your eyes. ’Ave I made m’self understood?”

They both nodded.

“Excellent.” He straightened and gestured at the darker fellow’s bleeding cheek. “Might want to get that looked at.” Then he turned and walked out—and he didn’t care who watched.

“That was a lot easier than I expected,” Jasper commented once they were outside. Both pistols were back in their holsters.

Jack shrugged. “People don’t normally lie to me.”

“And they give you what you want.”

“Sometimes.”

The American grinned crookedly. “Why, Mr. Dandy. You’re a freak just like the rest of us.”

Had he been wearing his hat Jack would have tipped it. “Don’t let it go to your ’ead.” He checked for a lull in traffic before running out into the street. His companions followed him up the steps to the pretty brick house. He rapped the knocker hard.

A gorgeous older woman with glossy black hair and intriguing eyes answered a few moments later. She looked at Jack and blinked, her smile slipping just a bit. He arched a brow—he was certain he’d never met the woman before.

“May I help you?” she inquired, her gaze not leaving his.

Jack inclined his head and put on his best posh, “Forgive us for calling unannounced, Madam, but I was told by two gentlemen that you may have seen a friend of mine.”

“I seriously doubt that, my lord,” she replied. “My girls are not of your class.” Oh, she was good. Jack couldn’t quite tell if that was an insult or not.

He smiled. “Her name is Emilia, or Mila. She’s about this tall, uncommonly beautiful. A sweet girl. Have you seen her?”

The woman gave a little under his influence—he felt it. Then, she blinked again, and tore her gaze from his—purposefully avoiding contact. How in the devil did she know to do that?

“I’m afraid not, sir. Perhaps you should check with Mrs. Newberry down the street. I know she has at least one vacancy. We’re filled up. Sorry I can’t be of help. Good day.”

Only Jack’s well-placed and quick foot prevented the door from closing in his face. He took a silver case from his inside coat pocket and opened it. “Take my card. If you do see her, I would appreciate it if you let me know.”

“Of course.” Still, she didn’t look at him. Instead, she took the card and yanked the door shut. Jack just managed to pull his foot free, otherwise she might have crushed it.

“So much for people not lying to you,” Wildcat commented dryly as they walked down the steps.

“She did a poor job of it, too,” Jasper added.

Jack nodded. “Indeed.” But it was a lie told to protect Mila, and he appreciated it. She was with someone who would look after her.

Wildcat fell into step beside him. “Want me to talk to her?”

He shook his head. “No. Thank you. I would like you to keep an eye on this place, however. Mila’s here and she obviously doesn’t want to be found just yet. If she wants to prove a point by stretching her wings, I’ll let her do just that.” And maybe a little female guardianship would do her good. But it had taken every ounce of his strength not to barge into that house and find his girl.

“You want us to spy on her.” There was a bit of an edge to Cat’s voice.

Jack stopped on the walk and turned to her. “No. I want her kept safe.”

“Did you see what she did to those two in the pub? She can take care of herself.”

“Physically, yes. But Mila is good. Too good. I won’t let anyone ruin that.”

Catlike eyes narrowed. “Including you?”

Jack laughed humorlessly, and raised his arm to hail a hack cab. “My dear Cat, especially me.”

* * *

“He knew I was lying.”

Mila stirred honey into her tea. She sat at a small table in the comfortable kitchen in the back of the house that smelled of warm baked bread and freshly brewed tea. It was inviting and comforting. Safe. “Yes. Jack usually does know when people lie.” It was an annoying trait because he was such a skilled liar himself.

Mrs. Brooks’s sister, whose name was Delilah Rhodes, was very beautiful and not at all impressed. In fact, she looked rather...peevish. “You might have told me from whom it was you wished to hide, child.”

She took a sip of tea. It needed more honey. “I thought you said you didn’t know Jack Dandy.”

“I don’t.” A strange expression crossed the woman’s face. “But I know a relative of his, I think. Would you like a little tea with your honey?”

Unperturbed, Mila set the honey pot aside. “Jack doesn’t have relatives.”

“Everyone has relatives. Family.”

“I don’t.”

The woman shot her a dubious look. “Are you an orphan, dear? There’s no one with whom you share blood?”

Oh. Did Finley and Emily and Sam and Griffin and Jasper count? “I suppose maybe there is.” She didn’t want to discuss them. Mrs. Rhodes might wonder why she hadn’t gone to them instead of going to her. “Does this mean you’re not going to give me a room?”

The pucker between the woman’s brows eased. “No. Of course not. You need a room and I have one for you.” She watched Mila closely—enough that Mila reached up and touched her own face to make certain she hadn’t dirt on it. “How did a girl like you come to be involved with someone like Jack Dandy? You hardly look his type.”

Mila scowled. “I know. He likes girls with more...” She made a gesture around her chest. “He likes dark hair and painted faces. I’m surprised he didn’t ask you to come home with him.”

Mrs. Rhodes, who had said she was a widow, smiled. She didn’t appear the least bit shocked or offended. “I think I’m too old for him.”

Mila snorted. “Not bloody likely. He doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t care about anything.”

“When I said you didn’t look like his usual preference, I meant it as a compliment.”

That did nothing to ease her scowl. “I know.”

The chair across from her was pulled out from the table and the other woman sat down in it. She poured herself a cup of tea. “You like him.”

“Jack?” Mila took a sip. The tea was delicious—hot and thick with honey. “Of course. He’s my friend. He can’t help that he’s stupid.”

Was that a chuckle? “Men generally can’t, darling. No, I mean you like him. You have romantic feelings for him.”

“I...I don’t know.” She reached for one of the cucumber sandwiches on the plate in the middle of the table. “I’m not terribly familiar with romantic feelings.”

Lavender eyes regarded her over the rim of a china cup. “You are a very odd girl.”

“Yes. I suppose that’s because I’m still fairly new to it.”

The woman set her cup down and reached across the table to take Mila’s hand in her own. She turned it over, studying every inch. “Not even a bruise. Those brutes didn’t hurt you at all, did they?”

“I didn’t want to give them the opportunity.” She didn’t pull away, but allowed Mrs. Rhodes to continue her inspection.

“You succeeded on that account.”

Was that censure in her voice? Did she think Mila had been wrong to do what she’d done? “They wanted to hurt me.”

“I know they did, dear,” there was a wealth of reassurance in her tone. “You did good, giving them a little of their own. How did you manage to hurt them so badly?”

Mila met her gaze. There was nothing in those pretty eyes that made her feel the least bit uneasy or threatened. Still, she wasn’t stupid. She resisted the urge to blurt out everything. “I’m odd, you said so yourself.”

“Yes, but how odd?”

“Does it matter?”

The woman released her hand and picked up her cup. “I’m curious. I know my sister referred you, but I wonder if I have reason to fear for my safety.”

Mila cocked her head to one side. “No, you don’t. You wonder if I might be of use to you.”

Mrs. Rhodes chuckled again. “Mr. Dandy isn’t the only one adept at knowing when a person is lying. Yes, I suppose I am wondering that. I’m also interested in you.” She plucked a sandwich from the plate and took a bite. “As a girl I always wished I could be stronger than the boys.”

Mila frowned. “Did someone hurt you?”

The other woman’s expression became guarded. “It was a long time ago.”

“Not that long. That’s the same expression you had on your face when you mentioned Jack having relatives.”

There was a screeching sound as the woman shoved back her chair and jumped unsteadily to her feet. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“You didn’t.” Mrs. Rhodes rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “I’m just reminded of things I’d rather not remember let alone discuss. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yes. I don’t like to think of the time I spent in the crate.”

Those unusual eyes widened. “The crate?”

People, Mila realized too late, did not normally spend time in crates. This was the sort of blurt-out she’d just patted herself on the back for avoiding. “That’s what I called it. It was a very small space.” Good thing Mrs. Rhodes didn’t seem to be quite so talented at recognizing lies when she heard them. Of course, it wasn’t that much of a lie.

“Oh, well, I hope you’ll find your room much more to your liking.”

Mila followed her down the narrow corridor to the polished oak staircase that led up to the next floor. Every other step her landlady took the tiniest bit stilted. She could hear the slight friction of oiled joints beneath the rustle of skirts. Mrs. Rhodes obviously had a prosthetic leg—one of the modern, lightweight kinds that were strong and made movement less of a chore for the wearer. Mila wondered how she came about having such a limb, but asking might be rude, and she didn’t want to offend.

She glanced around at her surroundings. The house was old, but well cared for and very neat. The wood gleamed with fresh polish and there was not a speck of dust to be seen anywhere. Mila envied people who could keep such a tidy house. Her dressing table at Jack’s was in desperate need of a good dusting.

“Where are the other girls?” she asked, finally realizing how odd it was not to have seen at least one other lodger.

“At work. Most of my girls work with the Pick-a-dilly Circus nearby.”

“Oh, I love the circus! Jack took me there just last week.”

Mrs. Rhodes smiled over her shoulder as she led Mila upstairs. “It’s delightful, isn’t it? It’s one of the few entertainments that stays open after the lords and ladies have retired to the country to shoot poor defenseless animals.”