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“Does it hurt?”
“No.” His voice came out curiously hoarse. “It tickles.”
The barmaid returned then with a piece of clean cloth, and Beatrice dabbed it in the whisky before cleaning the wound. Adam hissed, every muscle in his body tensing. She looked him in the eyes and watched him carefully as she spoke. “Now, this is really going to hurt.”
“What are you going to—Argh!” Adam bit on the inside of his cheek as she poured the remaining whisky over and into the wound, holding the cloth just below it to make certain his breeches didn’t get wet. “Oh, you bloody… pirate,” he croaked.
A hint of surprise registered on Beatrice’s face before she fell into heaps of laughter, no sign of even a tiny bit of remorse.
Adam gritted his teeth but soon joined in.
“Pirate?” She raised her brows over still-laughing eyes.
“Yes, a ruthless pirate to treat me like this!” Adam said with a chuckle.
Beatrice patted Adam on his knee. “In that case, you sit here while I look for the treasure.”
“Treasure?” One of the men cleaning the pub perked up.
“She is talking about my watch,” Adam clarified.
“Hm…” The man scratched his jaw. “And what kind of a watch is it?”
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Beatrice said before Adam even opened his mouth to reply. “It’s silver, the lid is intricately engraved with delicate patterns that resemble vines or leaves.” Adam couldn’t help but be impressed. She’d seen it but once for a few moments and she remembered.
“It’s fine 16th-century craftsmanship,” he added. “And has a small, finely crafted rose for winding on the side. Looks very valuable. But it’s just a family heirloom.” He tried to minimize the value of the item, omitting the diamond dusting, as it couldn’t be verified without an appraisal and would likely encourage these people to keep the watch for themselves if they came across it.
“You said it looks valuable. How valuable?” the man insisted.
Priceless. “To an untrained eye? Very.”
“Oh, that kind of watch,” the barmaid said with a tone that held a lot of meaning. “That watch is gone. Trust me. Someone with nimble fingers has already stolen it.”
“Well, where would they take it?” Beatrice insisted.
“Hard to say. A pawnshop on Petticoat Lane if the thief is a drunken fool. Any other pawnshop if the thief is just a fool. But if the thief is not a fool at all, then he shall find a fool to sell the item to for a higher price. ”
“And if he thinks the item is very valuable as you said, then there’s only one place where the watch will end up.” The pub workers exchanged knowing gazes.
“Where?” Beatrice breathed wide-eyed.
“The underground auction. You might have heard of it. It moves around town with only thieves and criminals taking part in the bidding. Come to think of it, Smoke’s thieves were here today.”
Damn it. Adam was afraid he knew exactly what had happened to his watch now. Mr. Smoke was a thief who had risen to fame quite recently, swindling from aristocrats so stealthily people barely noticed. Hence the moniker, Mr. Smoke. Gone before you notice it.
“Who’s what?” Beatrice stepped closer.
“Mr. Smoke is the most notorious thief in London,” the man at the bar supplied. “Can steal anything. And his network of thieves roams around London every night. Then they sell everything at this auction and live their cozy lives.”
“How do we get there?” Beatrice asked, her eyes shining.
“No, no, no,” Adam hurried to step in. “We are not going in there.”
“Why not? If that’s where your watch is.” Her eyes shone with excitement.
“We don’t even know that for sure!”
“No offense,” the man at the bar said. “But nobody will let you in there. You’re too proper. Only criminals and members of the demimonde are allowed. No toffs, unless they’re also criminals, of course. And especially not…” He paused, looking Beatrice up and down. “Whatever you are.”
