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Georgie couldn’t keep the huge smile from her face.

“I’m just happy.” If she told Martina her happy conclusion, then Martina would try to talk her out of it, and the fact that Rafferty really did care about her was a precious secret, one to hold close to her heart.

It didn’t matter how much he denied it, she had solid proof.

He hadn’t done anything like that for Norah or Neddy.

She was distracted from these happy thoughts when a voice broke through their cozy meal. “Miss Martina! I never would’ve thought to see you here!”

Martina looked up sharply, and Georgie could see her color pale beneath her heavy maquillage, as her eyes lifted to the man beside the table. “Mr. Stiles,” she said in a breathy voice that almost hid her strain.

He was an ordinary enough man to engender such an intense response from her companion, Georgie thought, surveying him openly.

He was middle-aged, and well-dressed, though his clothes just bordered on the flashy, and he was handsome enough, with a full head of salt and pepper hair, fleshy lips, and an oversized smile.

It was his eyes that told her there was something wrong.

They were small, flat, and black, contradicting that toothy smile as he surveyed the two of them.

“And here I was thinking I’d have to take me tea alone,” he said, pulling out the extra chair at the small table. “When who should I run across but my friend Martina. How is our old mate, Martin?” he inquired, and Martina jerked slightly.

“I haven’t seen him in weeks,” she said in a strained voice.

“Nobody has, or I miss my guess,” Mr. Stiles said cheerfully, signaling for fresh tea and a new cup. And then he turned that black, empty gaze on her. “And who ’ere is this beautiful young lady?”

If Georgie had any doubts before, they vanished at that word. She wasn’t beautiful and she knew it. Her face was pretty enough, if she were being fair, but a far cry from Norah’s elegant features.

“My mistress,” Martina said stiffly, coming out of her frozen daze. “And I’m afraid it would be improper for you to join us....”

“Naah!” He grinned at Georgie with too many teeth, and she decided right then that she didn’t like him. “All you ’ave to do is introduce me to this young lady and things will be right as rain.”

For a moment, Georgie thought she’d refuse. But eventually, reluctantly, she spoke. “This is Miss Georgiana Manning.” She paused.

“Continue,” he said in a silken voice that was clearly an order.

Georgie expected Martina to balk, but even she didn’t miss the warning in those flat black eyes.

“This is...” she hesitated.

“’Er old friend Billy Stiles,” the man broke in, that ugly grin still on his face.

“Why, I haven’t seen my friend Martina in quite a long time, though I heard you were working for some toffs.

That’s a new lay for the likes of you.” He let his eyes drift over Georgie, and she suddenly felt unclean. “The Mannings, did you say?”

Martina just stared at him stonily, and Georgie looked between the two of them, deeply uncomfortable but wildly curious. Who was this man who seemed to terrorize her stalwart maid?

“And where is our good friend Rafferty?” he said casually, turning back to Martina. “I ’eard rumors that he’d gone into service, though I find that hard to believe. He never was the type to take orders from anyone.”

“Rafferty?” Georgie spoke before Martina could reply. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Ah, a pretty girl like you needs to be careful around the likes of him. He’d have you on your back with your skirts up in no time.”

“Mr. Stiles!” Martina cried in a shocked, angry voice. “That’s no way to talk to a young lady.”

“Begging your pardon, Miss Manning. I’m a simple man from the country, and I’m not up on the ways of polite society.”

That was a lie, Georgie knew it immediately. He was city-bred if anyone was, with the accent of one born within the sound of Bow Bells. But she couldn’t get the picture out of her mind—Rafferty tossing her on a bed and lifting her heavy skirts. It was terrifying, and it was bewitching.

“Excuse me for a moment.” To Georgie’s shock, Martina pushed away from the table, leaving her alone with this jovial, sinister man, and she wanted to shriek in protest. But she was gone in an instant, and Stiles paid no attention to her departure.

“I’m a bit rough around the edges,” he said. “I hope you can forgive anything improper I might ’ave said.”

Georgie managed a weak smile. There was something very wrong about this man, with the fancy clothes that somehow looked cheap, the formal speech with the cockney accent, the brilliant smile with the dead eyes. She wanted to get away from him.

“Now this is nice and comfortable, ain’t it? Tell me about my old friend Rafferty—it’s been a dog’s age since I seen him.”

“Rafferty?” she repeated with a deliberately vague expression. She’d seen her mother avoid confrontation and direct questions with a silly little laugh, and she managed a good approximation of it. “Who’s Rafferty?”

Stiles’s smile didn’t waver. “Now, miss, you don’t need to be shy with old Billy Stiles.

I know what’s what. Sure and Rafferty’s keeping clear of the police—who can blame him?

We’ve got a bit of business to settle. Not the way Rafferty would like it settled, but then he should know better than to underestimate the likes of Billy Stiles. ”

“What do you mean?” she said, her eyes wide and gullible. She was out of her depth, but she knew one thing. This man was Rafferty’s enemy, and as such, he was getting no information from her.

Stiles’s broad grin tightened for a moment, but before he could ask another question, Martina was back, dropping gracefully into her chair.

“Miss Manning has been telling me all about Rafferty,” Stiles said smoothly. “He never struck me as a man for domestic duty.”

Martina looked at her with horrified reproach, and Georgie blurted out a denial. “I didn’t tell him a thing!”

“Ah, but there’s something to tell, ain’t there?” Stiles said, that toothy smile still in place. “I don’t mean ’im any harm—he’s an old mate of mine too, and I thought I’d look in on ’im. Settle things right and proper.”

“We need to go,” Martina said, starting to rise, but Stiles’s hand latched onto her wrist, pulling her back, and her mouth was white with pain.

“You’re going to stay right here, little Martina, until I’m satisfied.” For a moment, the smile dropped, and Georgie realized what a truly ugly man he was. The smile returned as he looked at her, and she felt a cold dread in the pit of her stomach.

She straightened her back. “Let go of Martina,” she said calmly. “And I’ll tell you all about him.”

“Miss Georgie, don’t!”

But Stiles had dropped her wrist, turning to Georgie with his past affability. “A man gets to a certain age,” he said, “when he wants to track down his old mates. Me and Rafferty go way back—he’d tell you that himself. Now why don’t you tell me where he is so I can go and renew my acquaintance?”

“Right behind you, Stiles.”

Georgie breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t seen him approach, she’d been so mesmerized by Stiles, like a rabbit with a snake.

The moment passed in an instant. Stiles rose, all bluff friendliness, clasping Rafferty’s hand, but it looked anything but friendly. Martina had risen, and Georgie tried to follow suit, but a moment later, Rafferty’s strong hand came down on her shoulder, keeping her in place.

“Well, ain’t this cozy!” Stiles said in his hearty voice. “Why don’t we all sit down and share a cup of tea, and you can tell me how you’ve been doing on our little venture?”

Rafferty didn’t move. “Well enough. These things take time.”

“I’m afraid I’m not a patient man, Sunny Jim. We ’ave a bit of a misunderstanding about certain things, and I wouldn’t want you to have an unfair advantage. You’re a bloodthirsty bastard, all right, and I happen to value my neck.”

“Do you?” Rafferty’s voice was silky smooth.

And deadly. There was no missing the strain of violence in his voice, and for the first time in a long time, Georgie remembered where she had found him, who he said he was.

A thief, a criminal, a bad man. She could believe it.

And it didn’t change her feelings one whit.

Stiles met the subdued violence in Rafferty’s voice without a blink. “I wouldn’t want to think you were holding out on me. You’ve had more than enough time, seems to me. And Billy Stiles is not the man to cheat. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your old friend Martin.”

Rafferty’s flint-like expression didn’t change. “Keep your hands off.”

But Stiles merely smiled as he turned his beady eyes on Georgie. “Then again, there are always other choices. Guess you like the ladies well-bred too. You’re taking too much time. And I wonder if this little ladybird has anything to do with it.”