Kimber's Dilemma - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 6

In the days that follow, I become obsessed with finding R.D Spiegler.

My father's never heard of him, though he does ask hopefully if Spiegler is unmarried and would be willing to take me so that I can, in his words, Go the fuck away and stop being so useless. Cheers, Dad.

I reply that I could always get a house of my own in the city if he wants me to leave. He calls me a hussy and burns me with his cigar for that.

The cuff of my riding jacket keeps chafing uncomfortably across the burn mark. I'll need to bandage it up, but right now I'm on horseback, escaping that house and hoping a ride along the tree line might clear my head.

I checked in the directory and found only three Spieglers in Birmingham, and none of them had the right initials. It's been over a week since searching the cars, and I fear the Peaky Blinders could storm the place at any moment, Tommy having figured it all out and placing the blame on my father.

But he doesn't.

I need to expand my search beyond Birmingham, I decide, ducking beneath a low tree branch. My father has a London directory list tucked away in his office, and I long to check it out— but if I bring the name up again, he might become suspicious. And searching his office is out of the question now, with the current state of affairs.

A group of my father's top bookies stole almost a hundred pounds over the weekend, a monumental sum, before clearing off somewhere to lay low. As a result, everyone's distracted from the Peaky Blinders and their guns. But everyone's also desperate to curry favour with my father, to prove they weren't in cahoots with the bookies and they wouldn't dream of fucking him over in such a fashion. The house is busier than ever. I can barely leave my room without bumping into a security guard or one of my father's cronies.

It's making it very hard to go about my snooping.

I loop back around the driveway. It's taken me an hour to ride the perimeter, and I'm in no keen hurry to go back in just yet. My heels squeeze Spangles to a trot, but I soon slow him once more, spotting a black car snaking along the drive.

My breath hitches in my chest. I suddenly find myself straightening my spine, tidying the reins between my fingers, almost self-conscious in a way I've not felt before.

The car approaches, window rolling down, and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

It's a bearded man I've never seen before. I feel a pang of disappointment, then scold myself — why on earth am I disappointed? It's not as though I'd been hoping for anyone else.

"Afternoon," he tips his hat, speaking in a thick cockney accent. "Alfie Solomons. Billy Kimber 'ere?"

I nod, trying to collect myself. "Just up at the house."

"Some fucking drive, innit?" He sighs, before glancing up at the ominous grey clouds gathering in the sky. "Looks like it might rain," he warns.

I retort without thinking. "It's water, not fire."

He booms with laughter at that. "Alright, darling. Enjoy getting wet."

I wait in the same spot, leaning down to pat Spangles reassuringly across the neck, while Alfie drives up to the house. He parks up and slips easily through the front door. By this time, the rain really has begun to come down, and I'm soaked right through. I grit my teeth — I don't want to cut the ride short. But I can't afford to catch a cold.

"Enjoy your ride, miss?" Toby asks, taking the reins as I walk Spangles into the stables.

"Very much,"

"Last one on Spangles, I'm afraid."

My heart sinks. "Father's going to race her?"

"Says she's old enough now. Won't be for another season or two, but we're to start her diet and training."

Spangles isn't a racer. Anyone with eyes can see that. But Father won't admit he made a bad investment without cold, glaring proof. Proof that will probably cost him more lost money in the end when she fails to place at the races — but then, I suppose a man's pride isn't a logical thing.

Maybe I can convince him to keep Spangles afterward. More likely, he'll auction the horse off.

"Are you alright, Miss?" Toby asks. "You haven't been riding as much as usual."

"I've had a bit on my mind," I say quietly, loosening the girth.

"Anything I can help with?"

I sigh. "Happen to know an R.D. Spiegler?"

He frowns. "Your father placing an order?"

My hands freeze around the leather, my heart skipping a few paces. "An order of what?"

"Spiegler's a stationary company," he says. "My brother placed an order for his pub once. Whole box went missing, I had to help him sort it out. Bloody nightmare. They only sell in bulk to businesses... I hope you'll forgive me for saying, miss, but Billy won't accept less than Italian leather for his diaries, and Spiegler's books are cheap. But I suppose if the bookies are only going to get mud on their notebooks anyway, he might be hoping to save some coin."

"Where are they located?" I ask quickly, my hands beginning to shake in excitement.

"Just south of town, I believe."

If they're that close to home, I'm willing to bet Tommy's found them already. I've got no time to waste.

"Thanks, Toby!" I call out, my riding boots sloshing in the mud as I take off back to the house.

A maid screeches when she sees me enter, dripping wet and covered in mud, but I ignore her as I take the stairs two at a time and throw myself into my room, locking the door.

Ripping the directory from the bookshelf, I flip quickly through the pages. I hadn't even thought to look in the business section — I'd been so sure Spiegler is a person.

But here it is. Clear as day.

I rip the page free, knowing I'll need the address.