The Secret in East End [Agents of the Crown #1]

Chapter 2 - Picture of Elle

After ten years of flawless pickpocketing, the heart within was starting to stir very furiously as she realized no matter how she struggled, the hand that her would-be victim remained firmly grasped on her wrist. Realizing how futile it was beginning to look, Elle finally relaxed, tossing her head back and using a hand to swipe the rest of the unruly hair out of his sight. "What do you want with me, my lord?" the last part she sneered, having never had much respect for the upper class society. "How could one respect them, when they wasted so much? Resources, food, everything. They worked hard to better their country, yet they don't even help their citizens as much as they should.

"What were you thinking of doing, young man? Pickpocketing in the middle of Kensington this way." 

"I do what I have to to survive. I don't have everything handed to me on a silver platter. I'm quite sure you've never had a day in your life where you had to struggle for food, have ya?" Elle spat back, still trying to wriggle her way out of his firm grip, even if it was quite futile. How could someone's hold be so strong? The darkness of the streets made it impossible to tell how he looked like, but she could almost bet he was some drunken old lout who was returning to his townhouse after a whole night of carousing around.

"Careful what you say. You can't judge all of us by the same cover." he replied in a drawl. With a start, Elle realized he was beginning to ascend the steps to the entrance of the house. "Where are you bringing me, you lick-splittle!" 

"Oh, sharp." His amused drawl was beginning to irritate Elle, helpless as she was to do anything as she was dragged through the hallway. The door closed to reveal a surprised, rather old-looking butler, to which Elle was tossed at once the door was closed. Sprawled on the ground, her eyes turned to glare at her captor, only to be surprised at what greeted her face.

Dirty blond locks, cropped and short, complemented the forest green eyes her captor owned. But it was the image that entirely did not match the drunken lout she had pictured him to be on the darkened steps of the town house. Instead, what Elle did see was well defined cheekbones and a jaw line, bronzed skin and a taut body his clothing clung to. The gold vest across the white shirt was complemented well by the emerald green frock coat he wore, which all together set off the depths of seriousness in his eyes. How could she believe him to be one of those weak, useless members of the ton when he looked like he slaved away at work everyday? While she liked to believe the rumors of the upper class who did nothing productive everyday, the bags under his eyes along with the sunken cheeks proved otherwise.

"Collingsworth, please see to it that this young lad here is secure until the morning, when I can speak to him."

"Yes, your Grace." his butler did as he was told, easily taking what appeared to be a young lad of eighteen away. Only when the wriggling young boy was taken away, did Fabian's shoulders droop. He found his way to his study, heaving a heavy breathe as he took a swig of the port he poured himself, his mind turning over what Lionel had told him as he had left headquarters. Young... wait, young and skinny boys?

His drink almost sloshed out of his glass when Fabian turned and made his way quickly across the landing, arriving just in time to see Collingsworth tying up the knot on his young captive's wrists, bound to the post of the servant's quarters. "Are you from the East End?"

"Oh no guv'nor. I stay in posh Mayfair, o'cors. Cor, whaddaya think?" his language was coarse, grating to Collingsworth's ears if the old man's cringe was anything to go by. But Fabian needed help, and he was going to get it.

"I'll strike you a deal. I won't turn you over to the authorities, but in return I need you to bring me to the East End."

"Whaddaya need me ter do that for? Just waltz in there like ye dandies always do!"