Valentine nodded and paid the man. He had no interest in food. His stomach gave a loud growl as if in defiance of that last thought, but he ignored it. First, he had to make sure that the daft chit didn’t compromise herself by meeting with a strange man alone. This wasn’t the place for aristocratic young ladies. Though maybe he was mistaken about Ashvale’s little sister. It wouldn’t be the only time he’d ever been wrong about a woman.

She’s not Lisbeth.

No, Lisbeth had been raised by strict, pious, wealthy parents, but her father had often done business in seedier parts of London. She’d given her virginity to a flashman when she was fifteen and then robbed him blind. To her, sex and seduction were tools to be used, and use them well she did. It was Lisbeth who had told him that sheltered girls were usually the most repressed, and they tended to act out when offered a modicum of independence.

Was that what Bronwyn was doing? Acting out?

Fulfilling her fantasies?

Keeping the collar of his own coat high, Valentine waited a few minutes near the entrance before shifting to an empty table with a view of the room. It was crowded and dim, but he spotted her quickly. Now that he was on to her disguise, his attention was instantly drawn to where she sat in a shadowed corner of the ale house. Facing the door, he sipped on a mug of ale, one gloved hand clasped around the tankard.

Her face still remained partially obscured by the hat brim, but he had no doubt it was her. That imperious jut of her chin and the impatient flutter of her fingers were dead giveaways. She did the latter when she was nervous. He frowned. Sitting hunched as she was and in profile, she reminded him of someone else, too, but for the life of him he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What’ll you have, boss?” a buxom girl asked, the look in her eye stating that she’d offer a lot more than tavern fare if he was interested.

“Ale.” His stomach rumbled as he threw a few coppers onto the table. “And a sausage pie.”

“Comin’ right up. Ya let ol’ Dolly know if ya need anythin’ else.”

He nodded, never taking his eye off Bronwyn. How long did she intend to wait, and who was she meeting? The minutes turned into a quarter of an hour, and when his drink and food were delivered, he devoured them. She didn’t do anything but nurse that mug of hers, eyes trained intently on the doorway.