Jack Lark: Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page B

had come into the saloon. She had taken a table next to theirs and now sat no more than three feet away from where he was choking on the raw spirit.
    She must have seen him looking at her and she slowly raised her skirt a fraction. His eyes immediately dropped lower and he stared at the shapely ankle and calf being revealed inch by inch. The gin forgotten, he gawped at the girl’s rose-coloured stockings and his imagination started to run faster than the skirt would move.
    ‘Stick your poker into that and it’ll likely fall off.’ Sir Humphrey chortled at his son’s discomfort.
    Edmund blushed. He had never heard his father speak so coarsely. He put it down to the gin. He watched the way his father looked at the girl, a swift, knowing appraisal that finished with a wry smile. Unable to resist, he allowed his own eyes to roam over her body, pausing for a moment on the swell of her chest before he looked up at her face.
    She smiled. ‘You want to buy me a drink, love?’ Her teasing smile revealed the tip of a pink tongue as she licked her lips.
    Edmund could feel his body react. He wanted her. He had heard the other boys at his school talk about taking a woman, about the things they did to them. Now he was starting to understand their obsession.
    ‘It is time to go.’ His father thumped his glass down and rose immediately to his feet. He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Come along, my boy, that is enough education for one day.’
    Edmund stood too, leaving his glass half full. He glanced back at the girl, whose smile had vanished the moment she understood that her trade was moving on. He was still staring as his father led him out and back into the press of bodies by the bar. He lost sight of her as they joined the throng, a gasp of regret escaping his mouth. He tried to engrave the image of her in his mind, knowing that he would replay it many times that night when he was alone in his room.

Chapter 4
    Jack watched the young toff carefully. He had slipped in with the last of the lunchtime crowd, the quality of his clothing marking him out like a monk in a brothel. He bided his time, hiding behind a pair of costermongers who had bumped into each other outside and had stepped in for a quick drain before returning to their long parade around the streets.
    The toff was nervous. Jack could see it in the way his eyes darted around the room. Yet it was clear he was looking for someone or something, his head craning this way and that as he peered through the thin crowd waiting to be served.
    ‘What’ll it be?’ Jack asked the same question that he asked a thousand times a day.
    ‘Pennyworth of the Bairn’s Favourite, Jack my love.’ The old woman making the request offered him a toothless smile. Jack barely noticed. The customers tended to blur together, their faces forgotten the moment the drink was handed over.
    His hands worked quickly, his actions instinctive. The quick flick of the wrist to open the right tap, the snap back to stop the gin the moment it filled the measure.
    ‘Penny.’ His hand reached out for the coin but his eyes remained fixed on the toff, who had made his way up behind the crone.
    ‘What’ll it be?’ he snapped the moment the old woman had turned away, her lips already slurping at the harsh spirit that kept her alive. The toff started, as if unprepared for the inevitable question.
    ‘A half-quart of your finest.’ The answer was given with hesitation.
    Jack’s hand moved with practised ease, the measure poured in less time than it took the boy to have one more glance around.
    ‘Shilling.’ He slapped the bar, his palm held open.
    The toff scowled. ‘That’s not right. That’s too much.’
    Jack feigned indifference. ‘You asked for our finest; that’s it.’
    ‘No it isn’t. I was here the other day. It was a shilling for two half-quarts, and they came with cake.’
    ‘Different barrel.’ Jack shrugged. ‘This is better stuff. More expensive.’
    ‘You are cheating