“We’re not married,” she said. “We’re simply friends enjoying a night of entertainment.”

“Your brothers don’t know about him, I suspect.”

“No, and you’re not going to tell them.”

“When would I have the opportunity? I haven’t seen them in ages.” He gave Matthew a long once-over. “Take care of her, mate.”

Then he was striding off with his torch and tankard bearer striving to catch up.

“You didn’t mention you knew him.” Matthew modulated his tone, striving not to sound jealous.

“I met him shortly after he began performing. The Fire King. What young girl wouldn’t be captivated? He has quite a following.”

“I imagine he does.”

She angled her head slightly. “You sound jealous.”

“Don’t be absurd.” He was being absurd enough for both of them.

She slipped her arm around his. “Shall we see what other entertainments await us?”

Growing up, Fancy had always enjoyed the nights when the streets transformed into a festival. Some of these people made their living performing while others brought out their talents only on those occasions when they could share the attention. She suspected it wasn’t an easy life, but then very little in the rookeries was.

But on nights like this it was so lively, so energetic. And she certainly enjoyed sharing it with Mr. Sommersby. He seemed at once enthralled and wary, as though expecting to be attacked at any moment. Although she knew all she had to do was say, “I’m Fancy Trewlove,” and any bad characters would skitter away. Such was her brothers’ reputation and power in this area of London. While Mick, Aiden, and Finn were no longer a part of the rookeries, like Beast now, they had at one time ruled them. Anyone with any sense at all avoided getting on the wrong side of a Trewlove. It always ended badly, and not for the Trewloves.

She very much liked having her arm wrapped around Mr. Sommersby’s. She liked even more the way he would shift his body slightly to protect her if it appeared that anyone with too much drink in him might stagger into her. His movements were subtle, but she noted them all the same. Although it seemed she noted the smallest of things about him. His alertness and the way his head swiveled as though he were constantly watching for any sign of danger. His hands fisting as she’d spoken with the Fire King as though he were jealous. The subtle way he removed coins from his pocket and handed one at a time off to the barefoot children they passed. So many coins, leading her to believe it was a habit he engaged in when he wandered through the poorer sections of London. He’d known what to expect here, and he’d come prepared.