Chapter 5

 

 

 

 In a crouched position, Oliver waited on a rooftop overlooking the corner of Pottery Lane and Portland Road in Notting Dale. It is not that he lacked faith in Claudia Ellingford’s investigative skills. Still, he spent the past few days pouring over maps of the area, familiarizing himself with the streets and back alleys of Notting Dale. Oliver wanted to see for himself what his brother was up to. 

The slum had seen its worst days mid-century, when sewage and pig slurry ran in rivulets along the streets and fed into old clay pits, turning into a lagoon called The Ocean. The noxious hole was filled in some years ago, but the filth and stench of the area remained. The pig owners, along with most of the criminal element, were also driven out in the past two decades, but poverty and crime persisted in a tightly packed neighborhood of five streets. 

When at Parliament yesterday, he asked the other members of the Hawkestone Progressive Caucus (as they were now calling themselves) about Notting Dale. Oliver was informed clearances were already underway and that by 1910, a mix of public and private housing would be in place. It was an ambitious plan, and after inspecting the site, he was skeptical it could be achieved.

Although some of the makeshift shacks had already been pulled down in some sections, all that remained were empty lots with piles of rubble or wood. Irish travelers had moved in on those vacant blocks of land with their colorful caravans. They were next on the list to be cleared, or so Oliver had been told.

Oliver watched Claudia—yes, he was thinking of her by her first name—stroll along Pottery Lane. She wore a brassy gold wig and the same outfit she had worn when he encountered her in the East End. Every one of his nerve endings pinged with awareness at the sight of her. Even in disguise, her very presence had his insides in a whirl.

A man, staggering down the street, stopped and leered, no doubt suggesting all sorts. He roughly grabbed Claudia’s arm, and Oliver stood and ran along the edge of the crumbling roof toward them. But Claudia raised her skirt, pulled out her knife, and held it to the man’s throat. The startled drunk stumbled away as fast as his short legs could take him. Oliver halted and smiled. She didn’t need his help at all. At least not tonight. But he knew that anyway. He had complete confidence in Claudia’s abilities. She was bold and fierce. Perhaps that caught his attention more than her beauty. Although she tried to hide her emotions, they slipped out, mainly when she made no bones about her low opinion of the upper class.

He turned and headed from whence he came. The buildings were so close that he could travel from roof to roof in most circumstances. Most buildings were two or three stories, hopefully not too dangerous if he had to jump to the ground. Glancing at the sky, Oliver scowled. It looked like rain, so he would make this an early night. Not too far away, in an abandoned building, he had hidden a sack containing his street clothes.

A scream and a torrent of curses reached Oliver’s hearing. He halted and observed a rickety set of stairs hugging the side of the building heading right to the street. Grabbing the roof’s edge, he swung downward, silently resting in a crouch position on the landing, his hand splayed in front of him. 

“Gimmie the money, you hag!” the man growled, jostling the woman so hard her head bobbed back and forth.

“I earned it, ’tis mine, you daft gobshite!” the woman screamed.

The man hauled off and slapped her hard, then punched her midsection, causing her to drop to the ground. That was more than enough. Oliver took the stairs two at a time, then jumped in front of them. With a swift motion, he grabbed the truncheon from his belt and shoved it into the man’s soft belly, bringing him to his knees.

He groaned. “Ya feckin’ shite!”

With a lightning-swift motion, Oliver gave him a bash on the temple with the cudgel, hard enough to knock him out. The man lay unconscious on the broken, dirty cobbles.

Oliver held out his hand to the woman to assist her with standing. “I’d leave him there. He will awake soon enough.”

Once on her feet, the woman spat in the insentient man’s direction. “Aye, he deserved it and all. He tried to take me laundry earnings. I don’t work bloody fourteen-hour shifts as an ironer to have this layabout snatch me money. Aye, he’s me husband. Doesn’t do a stitch of work and lets the kiddies run wild; he does. Anyways, thanks and all.”

Oliver touched the brim of his floppy hat. “The Sentinel, at your service.”

“Well, ta. Too bad you won’t be around the next time I get paid. I’d best hurry off, settle the rent, and buy food afore he steals it all to purchase gin. Obliged to you.”

“Are you well?” Even in the dark alley, he could see the red welt on her cheek from the slap.

“Kind of you to inquire, but ’tis typical of the men ’round here. I manage, as do others.” The woman smiled at him, showing broken teeth. Then she turned and hurried down the street.

If only those snobs in The House of Lords could see how others live, perhaps they would be moved enough to do more—wishful thinking, as most of the upper crust could not give a hang for anyone less fortunate. 

“Well, if it isn’t Tall Leather Man, once again. You’re called The Sentinel, right? What are you doing in this slum section of the city? Following me, perhaps?”

Oliver swung about in the direction of the feminine voice. 

Claudia Ellingford.

Well, damn.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Claudia had heard the commotion and arrived in the alley in time enough to see The Sentinel put the boots to a drunk and hear his conversation with the washerwoman. 

The changes in The Piggeries since she had lived here almost ten years ago astounded Claudia. While still a slum, it was not nearly as horrifying as her reminisces. There was more industry, like numerous steam laundries, which the woman The Sentinel had rescued no doubt worked. 

“No, I am not following you.”

Claudia raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “So, it’s a coincidence?” 

“It is. I do not spend my time just in the East End.”

Claudia stepped closer and leaned in.

“Are you sniffing me?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Just seeing if you are wearing that expensive scent again.”

“I don’t wear a scent.”

Well, she could argue that point, for she certainly smelled one the last time they had met. And it was an enticing aroma.

The man sprawled on the cobbles started to moan.

The Sentinel touched the brim of his oversized hat. Blast, she still couldn’t see his eyes. “Good evening, Lady Investigator. Stay safe.”

Before she could blink, he disappeared around the corner. He had followed her, for Claudia did not believe in coincidences. This time, she wouldn’t let him slip away into the shadows. Claudia rushed along in the same direction he headed but couldn’t see him. Then, she glanced skyward. By the light of the moon, partly covered by gray clouds, she saw a man’s silhouette running along the edge of the roofs. Claudia picked up the pace, keeping the mysterious figure in her sight.

She turned the corner, and—no Sentinel. What did he do, drop into one of the buildings? Some of these places looked as if they were about to be demolished. Good. The whole area should have been razed decades ago. Claudia scanned up, then down the street. With hands on her hips, she huffed in exasperation. She stood there for several minutes, wondering where to go and what to do next.

An arm looped about her waist from behind, causing her to gasp. She was brought up against hardened muscle. “Don’t reach for your dagger. I mean you no harm.”

The Sentinel. 

Claudia hadn’t heard him come up behind her at all. 

Oh, he is good. 

“Hell’s bells. You shouldn’t do that.”

His hot breath trickled across her neck, sending shivers through her—and not from fear. His mask must be made of material that allowed him to breathe easily but thick enough to muffle his voice. He nuzzled behind her ear. “You’re not wearing any scent, either.”

“Too much of a giveaway,” Claudia murmured.

“Yes, I will remember that.” He trailed his gloved hand over the curve of her hip, leaving heat in its wake.

About to turn around and face him, numerous raised voices headed in their direction.

“This way, yeah? He ain’t got too far. Beat me, will he?”

“We’re with you, Charlie!” another yelled.

The Sentinel clasped her hand. “Come with me.”

“We can fight them,” Claudia stated emphatically.

“Not tonight.”

They started running along Portland Road, with the sounds of numerous pairs of boots hitting the cobblestones not far behind. Keeping up with the man’s long strides wasn’t exactly easy, but Claudia managed it. They turned into an alley, and The Sentinel propelled her between a half-demolished shack and another building. She glanced over her shoulder to see him pulling loose boards across the narrow entrance behind her. 

“Quiet,” he whispered. 

The vigilante knew his way around The Piggeries, for how else could he know about this hiding place? The Sentinel looped his arm around her waist again, pulling her against him. Only this time, there was something hard and prodding at her back. Was the man aroused? While that should disgust her, it did not. Instead, Claudia rolled her hips against that noticeable hardness, causing a hissing, low moan to escape his lips. Feeling bold, she reached behind for his hand and brought it to her breast. Already, her nipples were hard. When had she ever had such an immediate and sensual reaction toward a man? 

Never. Not like this.

Until tonight.

She found Tensbridge attractive, but the reaction paled next to the one she experienced with this masked vigilante. 

The Sentinel froze for a moment, then cupped her breast. She wasn’t wearing a corset, only a thin chemise, so when his fingers brushed by her nipple, she was the one moaning. He rubbed against her, massaging her breast, and Claudia let her head fall back against his muscled chest. How tempting to lift her skirt—

“Check that alley, Andy!” a voice yelled.

They stopped moving, although he kept his hand on her aching breast. Claudia held her breath as the man stomped along the broken cobbles. Thankfully, there was no light from this angle, not even from the moon. The Sentinel reached into her low-cut gown and clasped her breast. He had removed his glove at some point, so they were skin against skin. How had he managed that? Claudia bit her lip to stem the passionate moan from escaping. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, causing her to grow wetter. 

Emboldened, Claudia reached behind and laid her hand against that prodding hardness. She didn’t dare grip it (not that she could do it effectively as she wasn’t a contortionist), or the leather would creak. As best as Claudia could, she ran the tip of her finger along his length. Impressive. The feel of him only heightened her passion. How surprising to find she even possessed any.

When the man called Andy moved the boards, all he would see was darkness. The Sentinel wearing all black would melt into the shadows. They stayed perfectly still. 

The man pulled the boards aside. “’Tis nothin’ here!” Andy yelled. 

The sound of the boards banging against the wall and retreating footsteps allowed Claudia to expel the breath she had been holding. 

The Sentinel pulled his hand from the front of her gown and stepped out of her reach. “Wait here. I’ll check to see if it is safe.” 

Then he did the strangest thing. He moved aside Claudia’s hair, leaned in, and kissed her neck. Soft lips made contact on that sensitive spot at the curve of her shoulder. He must have pulled his mask up far enough to kiss her. The man was incredibly deft at silently moving about and removing a glove or lifting his mask without making a sound. Claudia spun about, not manageable in such a narrow space.

But he was gone.

“Hell’s bells,” she whispered. 

Striding out of the hiding place, she made her way to the head of the alley, glancing up and down the street. Deciding it was safe, Claudia pulled her shawl over her head and strolled toward Pottery Lane.

Every nerve ending was alive and thrumming. 

So, this is how passion feels. It certainly is exhilarating. 

And she had a distinct feeling this would not be the last time their paths crossed.

Claudia was looking forward to it.