What Angels Fear: A Sebastian St. Cyr Mystery

like a child. Puzzled, Sebastian crossed the street.
    “I’ll announce myself,” he told the thin, mousy-haired maid who answered his knock at the door.
    He was already taking the stairs to the first floor two at a time before the woman had recovered enough to say, “But— sir ! You can’t do that!”
    He could hear Kat’s husky voice, even before he reached the drawing room door.
    “There’s a saying, that a good foist must have the same talents as agood surgeon: an eagle’s eye, a lady’s hand, and a lion’s heart. An eagle’s eye to ascertain a purse’s precise location, a lady’s hand to slip lightly, nimbly into the man’s clothes, and a lion’s heart”—she paused, and he could hear the smile in her voice—“to fear not the consequences.”
    “Gor. How did you do that?” said a voice Sebastian recognized as belonging to his young protégé, Tom.
    Sebastian could see them now, standing at the far end of the room with their backs to the door. Kat was wearing a black silk gown made high at the neck, with modest crepe sleeves that told him she must have only recently returned from Rachel York’s funeral. He couldn’t even begin to guess at the reason for Tom’s presence.
    “Now let’s try it again,” she said, handing the boy a small silk purse. “This time, I’ll close my eyes while you hide it in one of your pockets. Try to detect the instant I lift it.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
    Tom tucked the purse deep into his pocket. “Ready.”
    Leaning against the door frame, Sebastian watched as Kat brushed past the boy once, then again, extricating the purse from his pocket on the second pass with deft, practiced skill. She was good. Very good. But then, before he’d met her, before she’d become one of Covent Garden’s most acclaimed actresses, this is what she had done, on the streets of London. This, and other things she rarely talked about.
    “When you gonna lift it?” said Tom, still waiting patiently.
    Kat laughed and waved the purse under the boy’s nose.
    Tom’s face shone with admiration and delight. “Blimey. You are good.”
    “One of the best,” said Sebastian, and pushed away from the doorway.
    Kat swung to face him, an amused smile still curving her full lips. “At least this time you knocked,” she said, and he was left wondering if she’d been aware of his presence, of him watching them, all along.
    He turned to Tom. “I thought you were planning to spend the evening searching for Mary Grant?”
    Tom nodded. “I figured Miss Kat ’ere might be able to put me on to a few places to look.”
    Sebastian took off his highwayman’s jaunty hat and tossed it onto anearby chair. “I don’t think I’ll ask how you progressed from that to pickpocket lessons.”
    The boy ducked his head to hide a grin. “Well, I’ll be off, then.”
    Sebastian watched Tom saunter off whistling a most improper ditty through his teeth. Beside him, Kat said, “Tom tells me you’ve hired him as a snapper.”
    Sebastian smiled. “Actually, he’s proving useful for a variety of tasks.”
    She tilted her head, looking up at him. “You trust him?”
    Sebastian met her thoughtful gaze and held it. “You know me. I have a foolishly trusting nature.”
    “I wouldn’t have said that. On the contrary, I’d have said you’re an extraordinarily perceptive judge of character.”
    Sebastian lifted one corner of his mouth in an ironic smile and turned away to strip off his greatcoat. “You went to the funeral,” he said, tossing the coat and his gloves onto the chair.
    Kat walked over to the bellpull and gave it a sharp tug. “Yes.”
    He could see the strain of the last few days in her face. She might not have been excessively close to Rachel York, but the young woman’s death had obviously shaken Kat, and the funeral had been hard on her. He wondered what she’d say if she knew he had a rendezvous with a group of resurrection men scheduled for midnight.
    She ordered tea and cakes from the flustered, mousy-haired maid, who appeared stuttering apologies for her failure to properly guard the door.
    “Hugh Gordon was there,” said Kat, when the housemaid had taken herself off.
    “Was he?” Sebastian stood with his back to the fire, his gaze on the face of the woman he’d once loved to such distraction he’d thought he couldn’t live without her. “That’s interesting. How about Leo Pierrepont?”
    She came to settle on a sofa covered in cream and peach striped silk.