The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [106]
‘And the kidnapper?’
Godfrey’s expression darkened. Briefly he shared a look with Pyke. Neither of them said a word.
Later, when Godfrey had disappeared to talk to an acquaintance in another room, Emily said, ‘I’m sorry if I sounded too serious in front of your uncle. But you talk about my work as though it were both frivolous and pointless.’ She seemed bewildered. ‘Is it wrong I care about something other than myself?’
At the table next to them, three blackguards had taken note of Emily and were eyeing her, and whispering to one another, in a manner that made Pyke uncomfortable.
‘On the contrary, it is admirable,’ he said, keeping an eye on the men. ‘But am I to assume that the opposite applies to me?’
‘If it did,’ Emily said, gently, ‘then it would seem odd that you have occupied your time in the last six months in the manner you have done.’
He stared into her languid brown eyes and felt a flush of sexual anxiety spill through him.
One of the ruffians at a nearby table stood up and brushed against Emily; the other two sniggered into their ale pots. Emily did her best to ignore them.
‘You seem concerned,’ she said, reaching out to touch his hand. ‘Is it my presence here that’s upsetting you?’
‘Why should it upset me?’ He glanced across at the three men, who were making lewd gestures to one another and laughing.
‘What? You can mix freely in my world, but I’m to be barred from entering yours?’
Pyke said nothing but again looked across at the three men.
‘Do you think I am bothered by their uncouth behaviour? ’
‘And when they feel sufficiently confident from the ale to approach you directly, am I supposed to step aside and permit them to speak to you?’
This seemed to amuse her. ‘You do not strike me as the kind of man who would easily step aside in any situation.’
‘Perhaps not,’ he said, unable to conceal his annoyance. ‘But such action, in my current circumstances, would open both of us to very great risks.’
A shadow fell across her face. ‘I did not think . . .’
She was interrupted when one of the men stood up, all of a sudden, and stumbled towards them, barging past Pyke as he did so. The other two also got to their feet in preparation for a fight. Their crossed arms and mean stares told Pyke what he needed to know. The man nearest to them, flabby-faced with whiskers, stammered something incoherently to Emily. She recoiled from him.
‘Leave her alone.’ Pyke was on his feet. He spoke in a calm, measured tone.
The whiskered man turned to square up to him. He had a scar that zigzagged down the right side of his face. ‘Sit down if you don’t want to be hurt. Let that be your final warning, boy.’
Feeling hopelessly exposed, Pyke pulled down the cap in an effort to conceal his face. Proceedings in the room had come to a halt as the gathered few looked expectantly in their direction.
‘You want to fuck?’ the whiskered ruffian said, staring cross-eyed at Emily. He was unsteady on his feet.
The first hammer blow was the decisive one. It came out of nowhere and landed the uncomprehending man squarely on his backside with a dull thump. Pyke cracked his bruised knuckles and turned to face his two friends. One of them launched himself at Pyke and barrelled into his midriff, sending them both sprawling on to the floor and knocking his cap off in the process. Pyke, though, recovered quickest and manoeuvred his startled assailant into a headlock. Pulling him to his feet, Pyke used the man’s torso as a shield against his friend’s assault, pushing them both backwards with sufficient force to topple them on to a nearby table. He followed this up with a kick to the groin of the taller man. The other man picked himself up and circled around Pyke with his fists raised; his expression was guarded and fearful. But when Pyke attacked he was too slow and too drunk to parry the blow. Those watching the spectacle took a sharp collective breath as Pyke landed the decisive punch on the bridge of the man’s nose; it snapped with an audible pop before blood exploded