With a sigh, I picked up the wedge of cheese and bit off the corner. It tasted delicious, not like my usual fare of stale crumbs that even the rats turned their noses up at. I devoured the rest, shoveling it in, unable to eat fast enough.

Then I promptly threw up in the corner. What a waste. I should have opened the window and deposited the contents of my guts on the front steps. That notion made me smile.

The lock clicked in the door. Fitzroy must have finished his business with Lord Gillingham already and come to question me again. I steeled myself and took courage in the fact that he'd not yet hit me.

But instead of my captor, another man entered. I guessed him to be about forty, with rust-colored hair starting high on his forehead and a short beard of a redder hue. He cut a fine form in a dark suit, with shoes polished to a high sheen and a gold watch chain hanging from his waistcoat pocket. He clutched a walking stick in one hand, and I caught a glimpse of the tiger shaped head as he adjusted his grip. It wasn't his clothing that told me he was Lord Gillingham, however, but his bearing. His body was ramrod straight, his mouth turned down in disapproval, and his head tilted back so that he looked down his nose at me, even though he wasn't very tall. Fitzroy may be a gentleman, but this man was a cut above—and he knew it.

"Close the door," he said over his shoulder to Gus.

Gus and Seth, standing in the hallway outside the room, frowned at one another, then Gus closed the door. I was alone with the stranger.

I debated whether I should bow to Lord Gillingham, nod, or take his hand. I was still trying to remember the proper etiquette for when a boy met a lord—and whether I wanted to conform—when he spoke.

"You are the child." He sounded as if his mouth were full of strawberries that he didn't want to spill. It was quite ridiculous. I had to press my lips together to suppress a laugh.

"Don't see no other in here, do you?" I said.

"My lord."

"Name's Charlie, but 'my lord' will do just as well." I winked, warming to my bit of fun. Mimicking and mocking the upper classes had always been a popular pastime in the slums, no matter if it were Stringer's gang or any of the others I'd lived with over the years.

Gillingham's wide nostrils flared and his pale blue eyes flashed. "Do not play the fool with me."

"Yes, my lord." Perhaps riling him wasn't a good idea when he could prove an ally. I knelt on the carpet and clutched my hands together. "Please, my lord, will you help me? The man named Fitzroy has kidnapped me and is keeping me prisoner here. Against my will," I added when he gave no sign of concern or surprise.