Olivia Twist(23)

A barking cough drew Olivia’s attention to where Chip lolled on the floor, his head resting on Brom’s furry back. She squatted beside the little blond boy, whose skin had taken on a disturbing gray tinge. She rested a hand on his head, but he felt cool and dry.

“Well, what do you suggest?” Brit asked. “We can’t just let that dinger Monks take everythin’ we’ve got!”

“I say we fight!” Half of the boys cheered at Archie’s suggestion, while the other half stared wide-eyed at the two older boys.

“Arch,” Brit said, “you know I’d never back down from a good brawl, but look at your face. And you saw Turner after Monks’s boys finished with him. What chance do we ’ave if they got the best of a bloomin’ blacksmith?”

“Those prats jumped me from behind and you know it! Let ’em come at me fair and see what happens to ’em,” Archie snarled, rising on his toes to get in Brit’s face.

Olivia jumped up and positioned herself between the two boys. “That’s enough!” She put a hand on both of their chests and shoved. “Monks can’t be everywhere at once. We’ve just got to outsmart him.”

“Outsmart him, how?” Brit asked as he shot Archie a glare.

Olivia shoved a finger under her hat and covertly scratched beneath her wig. “I haven’t figured that out quite yet.” There was honor amongst thieves, a code that they all lived by: your score, your prize. Those who broke the code were brought down quickly. All except this Monks character.

Needing time to think, she opened her bag and let the boys converge on the apples and fresh bread inside. She’d brought the rest of Jack’s money with her, but she was having second thoughts about giving it to the boys. She told herself that reluctance had absolutely nothing to do with Jack’s heartfelt plea on the dance floor, or the amazing feeling of his lips on hers. Damn his blue eyes, anyway.

When they finished eating, she motioned for Brit and Archie to follow her to the far side of the room. “Does Monks know about this place?” she whispered.

“No. And he ain’t goin’ to find out, neither,” Archie insisted, throwing a look at Brit. “We’d do anything to keep this place secret. All the boys know it.”

“It’s true, Ollie. A couple of us slept in the street a few nights back, to throw Monks’s bludgers off the trail.” Brit shook his head, the corners of his mouth turned down in a deep frown. “But he’s getting closer, I can feel it.”

“Brit.” Olivia put a hand on his broad shoulder. He appeared to have grown another inch in the last week; the ragged hem of his trousers barely covered his calves. “You know you can’t protect them all. You’ve trained them well. You have to trust they can take care of themselves.”

Brit met her searching gaze. “I’ve forbidden Chip and the younger boys from working the streets. I try to take ’em for an outing once a day, to tire ’em out. But I can’t stand the thought of any of them . . .” His mouth clamped shut, and a muscle worked in his jaw as he turned away to face the window.

Olivia exchanged a knowing glance with Archie. Suppressing the urge to pull the boy into a hug, she settled for roughing up his shock of red-orange hair and sent him to check on Chip.

She moved to lean against the window frame, opposite Brit. A weak stream of moonlight highlighted the shadows under his eyes, making him appear years older. He looked as if he might implode at any moment, but Olivia knew a way that she might reassure him that he wasn’t alone. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked, “Do any of the other boys know . . . that I’m a girl?”

Brit’s lips compressed as he tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin. He’d confronted her about her ruse less than a week ago, and she’d admitted to him she was female, but hadn’t shared any further details about her life.

“Hey.” When he looked at her, she pushed the dirty brown wig off her forehead. Then with a full, dimpled grin, she gave him a saucy wink.

Brit’s reaction was instantaneous. He laughed—something she hadn’t heard him do in weeks. The grin on his face was a beautiful sight to behold. “Stop, Ollie. What if they see you?”

Olivia tugged her wig back into place. “It’s time I shared the truth with you. My real name is Olivia Brownlow. You can find me anytime, night or day, at Number Four, Cavendish Square. If you ever need me, send word, and I’ll get to you as quickly as I can.”

Brit’s wide brown eyes blinked repeatedly. “Yer a proper lady?”

“Shh!” Olivia glanced over her shoulder at the other children, but no one seemed to notice Brit’s outburst. “Yes, that is true. But I was once just like you, living on the streets, until providence intervened and my uncle took me in.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and accused in a harsh whisper, “You’re a lady, living in a proper house! I ain’t gonna show up on your doorstep in me filthy coat and short pants, like some stinkin’ beggar.”

“I don’t give a fig about that. Nothing has changed. I’m still the same old Ollie.” When his skeptical expression didn’t change, she captured his gaze and lifted her chin. “You’ve seen me fight. I can hold my own.”

Brit tore his eyes from hers and stared down at his foot as he moved the toe of his shoe through a layer of grime on the hardwood floor.