A line of coaches of varying colours and sizes rolled down the nocturnal streets of London. Not a single one of them looked anything alike. They seemed just like random parts of the traffic—which was exactly the point.

Pushing aside the curtain that covered the windows of his carriage, Lord Patrick Day peeked out onto the street. They weren't anywhere near their destination yet, but it was best to be careful. Especially tonight.

Letting the curtain fall, he leaned back into the carriage and let his eyes wander over his companions. Titus, dressed in an outrageously extravagant purple tailcoat with a red rose in the buttonhole, lounged in a corner, relishing in the fact that he could play the debauchee for an entire night without anybody being able to protest. Karim looked like a massive boulder wrapped in silk and satin. Amy was resplendent in a dress of silver and blue, her green eyes making her look like a queen of mermaids fresh from the sea.

As for him...

Lord Patrick Day glanced down at himself. Specifically, at his muddy boots, torn overcoat and second-hand shirt that smelled oddly of formaldehyde.

"So," he enquired, "I am noticing a slight discrepancy in our dress code."

"Oh, ye noticed dat, did ye?" Amy grinned. "Good work!"

Lord Patrick's aristocratic brow twitched ever so slightly. "Thank you so much for the compliment. But would you mind telling me why, while I am dressed in rags, you are wearing a priceless silk dress imported straight from Paris?"

The emerald-eyed vixen sent him a sweet smile. "Naturally, because it is suitable for a lady such as myself. I'm engaged to be married to a duke's son, you know."

His eyebrow twitched again. "And I am wearing these, ehem...'clothes' because...?"

"I don't quite understand." She batted her eyelashes at him, the picture of innocence. "Isn't that what's suitable for Willy Perv?"

Lord Patrick opened his mouth—then closed it again.

Tarnation! He hated it when she was right.

After all, he was going to have to go in through the back door disguised as a gangster in order for their plan to play out. A plan which, he realized belatedly, Amy had come up with. Once again, he glanced at her resplendent gown, then at his sorry excuse for clothes. It couldn't be that...It was impossible all of this was planned by her from the beginning, just in order to...

He glanced over at her again, where she was sitting, whistling innocently.

No. Surely not.

"It's time," a gruff voice came from outside. "We're approaching the location. We should split."

"I see." Amy nodded. "Park over dere, will ye?"

In answer came a low grumble, and the coach swerved, coming to a halt a moment later. There was a thud as someone leapt down from the box and the grumpy, mustachioed face of a fat man dressed in coachman's livery appeared in front of the window.

"This," Pritchard growled, scratching under his powdered wig, "is not going to be spread, understood? One word to anyone, and I will find something to throw you in chokey for the rest of your lives!"

"Come on now, don't be such a spoilsport, Inspector." Amy lifted an eyebrow. "Or would you have preferred to ride up to the illegal slave auction organized by London's most vicious street gang in a freshly ironed police uniform?"

Pritchard opened his mouth—then growled, and closed it again.

Ah. Lord Patrick nodded to himself, satisfied. So it wasn't just him, was it?

Rattling and creaking, the other coaches came to a halt around them. More and more men climbed out, some dressed as servants and attendants, some as street hawkers or beggars. At a signal from Pritchard and Hendrickson, the beggars and street hawkers dispersed. They each had their instructions, and it would be best if they were in no way connected to the two main prongs of attack.

One of which, Patrick reminded himself, just so happened to consist solely of himself.

Why had he agreed to this plan again?

Oh yes! Because he was a good man. With a conscience.

Maybe he should reform and become a criminal.

He glanced down at himself.

Well, you've made a good first step.

"What now?" he demanded, mostly to distract himself from the smell of formaldehyde.

"Now?" Titus grinned from ear to ear. "Now we split up. You, my friend, will join your fellow gangsters, while I and your fiancée go visit a den of iniquity and pretend to be a couple."

Patrick suppressed his desire to deck his friend. He was successful, thanks to having a lot of practice. "You don't have to sound so happy about it!"

"Of course I don't have to," Titus cheerfully agreed. "But I want to."

Suppress. Suppress. Suppress.

At least until after this was all over and done with. Then he could pomel Titus to his heart's content.

"What would you have me do?" Karim enquired. His hand slid to his sabre, making it all too clear to His Lordship what he wanted to do. And Lord Patrick couldn't exactly blame him. He might have a desire to punch Titus in the face, but it was dwarfed by the overwhelming need he felt to beat those thrice-cursed child slavers into a bloody pulp!

"You," he told Karim, "will accompany Miss Amy."

The man opened his mouth to protest indignantly—then noticed Patrick's meaningful look and closed it again. His gaze flitted between His Lordship and the lady of the night.

"Oh. I see." He gave a curt nod. "Yes. I shall accompany Miss Amy."

"Now wait just a minute—" Amy spoke up.

"You're going with Titus as a wealthy gentleman and his courtesan, are you not?" he cut her off. "Wouldn't such people have a bodyguard with them if they entered the East End?"

"Hm..." With narrowed eyes, she gave him a hesitant nod. "I suppose you are right."

"Quite." Besides, I won't be able to be there to protect you. There is no way I am going to let you go into that place alone. Not while knowing what you mean to me.

He didn't say those things out loud, though. It was scary enough to think them.

At the beginning, asking for Amy's help to infiltrate the East End had seemed like such a great idea. She was an expert, after all. And she had lived there for years already anyway, right? It wouldn't make a difference.

That was before he'd gotten to know her. That was before he had cared.

Now he did. He cared a lot. Enough for crazy visions of an impossible yet oh-so-tempting future to appear before his inner eye. Fiercely shoving those ideas aside, he nodded to the others and stepped back. "Very well. Let's get going, then."

"Or driving, for those fortunate ones among us who belong to a proper class of society," said Titus. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he waved it at Lord Patrick dismissively. "Now run along, lowly gangster! Ladies and gentlemen like us," he gestured between himself and Amy with a shit-eating grin, "can't possibly associate with lowly scum like you."

Lord Patrick Day took a deep, deep breath. Why was he friends with this fellow again?

He'd have to figure it out later. He had a feeling that finding the answer would take some time.

"Very well." He gave an ironic bow. "Then this 'lowly scum' will take himself off to do his job." And, casting a last quick glance at Amy, he turned and strode off towards the—

"Wait!"

The single word froze him in his place.

Or rather, not the word, but the voice that spoke it. Instinctively, he turned. A moment later, he saw a blurred shape rush towards him. All he managed to make out was a blue gown and a flash of brilliant green before a pair of arms was flung around his neck and something soft and oh-so-tempting brushed against his lips.

Time stopped.

The world ceased to turn.

Had it ever been turning? Had it ever really existed? Right now, it felt as if the only thing that had ever existed was the feeling of Amy's soft lips on his.

He was fine with that.

Two gentle hands reached out and grabbed hold of his face not so very gently. The fiery kiss stretched out for two seconds. Three. Five. Ten.

Finally, she broke away, leaving him breathless and shaken. Gazing into her deep emerald eyes, he swallowed.

"Come back in one piece," she ordered.

Patrick nodded.

She turned away and strode off. He stared after her for a long moment—then noticed Titus grinning like the cat who ate a dozen canary pies. Huffing, Lord Patrick whirled around and strode into the dark.

Nobody paid attention to him as he strode down the street. Nobody even threw him a glance. It was still a strange experience, and a humbling one. He was not Lord Patrick Day anymore. He was just another vagrant to be ignored, and for the moment he was glad about that. It made it easier to fight the urge to rush back, envelop Amy in his arms, and order her to not get near that cesspit he was heading towards.

She will be fine. He told himself. We both will. And when we meet again, I will go to her and—

He cut that thought off ruthlessly.

Not now. Later. When justice is done.

With that thought in mind, his eyes hardened. His steps sped up and, keeping to the shadows, he headed straight towards his goal. It didn't take long before the back door of a certain house appeared in front of him. A scruffy figure beside the entrance was biting on a piece of chewing tobacco—until he noticed Patrick, and spat it at his feet.

"Dere ye are, Perv! Finally! Where 'ave ye bin? Get yer arse in 'ere, we've gotta set things up!"

"I'm comin!" he growled and, turning up his collar, stepped towards the looming open doorway. "I'm comin'."

And when I'm done with you all, I'm coming for her.

***

Amy stood there for a long moment, gazing at where Patrick had disappeared into the shadows.

'e's gonna be fine, she tried to tell herself. Nothing's gonna 'appen ta 'im. 'e's just supposed ta be a spy. Da gangster's ain't gonna 'urt him.

"Tsk-tsk..." Sadly, Titus shook his head. "A lady of good breeding such as you risking her good reputation for a piece-of-garbage gangster...it breaks my heart, it does."

On the other hand, maybe there were some people who did deserve to be pummeled into a pulp by gangsters.

"Titus?"

"Yes, My Lady?"

"Shut up, or I'll rip that gaudy flower from your buttonhole and stuff it down your throat!"

"Yes, My Lady!" He strode towards the most extravagant among the coaches. "Shall we get going?"

"Aye. Let's."

"Very well." Pulling open the carriage door, Titus smiled and bowed to her. "Ladies of the night first."

Amy gave the man a sweet smile, her eyes fixing on a certain vulnerable part of the male anatomy.

"Do you want this lady of the night to demonstrate what she can do with a parasol, a pin and a pair of tweezers?"

"Ehem, I meant ladies first. Yes, definitely. Ladies first."

"That's what I thought." With a nod, Amy strode past the man and climbed into the coach. Titus followed her, and Karim pulled himself up onto the box. The whip cracked and, a moment later, the carriage set out down the nightly street. Through the open window, Amy saw the other carriages disperse in various directions.

She smiled. Good. Nobody would be able to connect them to each other.

"You remember the plan?" she asked, narrowed eyes suggesting what she would do if Titus answered in the negative.

"Yes." He nodded quickly. "I most definitely do."

"Good. Here." Amy reached into the folds of her dress and handed him a large, serrated knife. "Just in case."

"Err...just in case, right." Gripping the knife with two fingers, Titus cautiously took the thing. "You know, I feel sudden, inexplicable regret that I didn't put on a gangster outfit and go with Patrick."

"Don't worry." Smiling, Amy patted his arm. "After all, I'm with you, aren't I?"

Titus covered his eyes with one hand. "I know."

They fell into silence until the usual sounds of the city around them subsided, replaced by excited chatter and raucous laughter. Glancing out of the window, Amy saw a familiar, large town house surrounding a courtyard. But, whereas the last time she had seen the place it had been nearly deserted, now there were dozens of elegant coaches parked all around. People were exiting from said coaches. Men, mostly, but there were some women among them, too. All of them were dressed in the most elegant, sumptuous clothes, as well as the most precious jewelry imaginable. They were the crème de la crème. The highest of high society.

Amy clenched her fists.

Scum!

"It's time." With a grim smile, Amy turned towards Titus. "Ready to act like a dissolute reprobate?"

Titus answered her grin with one of his own. "I was born ready!"

With a curt nod, Amy pushed open the door. "Then let's get going."

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I'm slowly crawling my way back to health again - hopefully. Thank you for your support! :)