“I’ll purchase you whatever you need.”
“Your coins are precious, and I have a few things I’d rather not leave behind. We must be grown up, responsible. I also need to write a letter to my parents, so they won’t worry or come looking for us. Tomorrow night, at midnight. What say you to that?”
“I’ll be there waiting.”
Chapter 11
1871
Arms folded across his chest, encased in midnight shadows, Finn leaned against a building across from the foundling home and watched, just as he had for three nights now, striving not to recall how familiar all this seemed, the many hours he’d waited for her when he was younger and in love. He especially fought not to remember what it had felt like to be in love, to greet each day with hopeful optimism, to believe the world was filled with promises of good things waiting around the corner, to dream she would walk by his side, that together they would conquer the world.
He didn’t even know why he was here, why he felt a need to look out for her. It was folly to stand here night after night when he had no idea if she even had an arranged rendezvous with anyone. Perhaps she’d given up her quest. Perhaps she’d returned home where she belonged.
Although if she hadn’t returned home in three months, why did he think she would now? If she’d come here on a lark, she had to be tired of playing about. The girl he’d known wouldn’t have stayed for more than a few hours, not once she realized the harshness that awaited her. But the woman she’d become seemed intent on remaining. He was both baffled and intrigued, each sensation irritating him. Even more annoyed with himself for keeping to his post as wisps of fog began waltzing around him, bringing with it a dampness and a chill.
He was an even greater fool than he’d been eight years earlier. He should abandon this endeavor, get on with the business that awaited him, but then he heard the muffled footsteps, the clack of heels hitting stone, echoing on the other side of the wrought iron gate. His heart sped up with wild abandon as every muscle forged to fight and protect, to take and deliver blows, tightened in preparation for pouncing if the action were needed.
Then she emerged, the hood of her cloak brought up over her head in a way that kept her face hidden, but he didn’t need to see it to know it was her. He recognized the outline of her body, the curves he had once caressed, although his memory recalled there being a bit more to them. She was thinner now, but still he knew that form.
With a clank, she opened the gate and walked through it. With another clank, she closed it behind her and didn’t hesitate to begin marching down the street, purpose in every stride.
“Little fool,” he whispered before shoving himself away from the wall and following. Her steps were as silent as his. She was aware of every sound that disturbed the night, was constantly glancing around, making careful note of her surroundings.
Why did she care about these children who weren’t hers? Why was she living in near poverty? Why had she not married one of the most powerful dukes in England? Thornley could have assisted her in her quest to do good—with money, with clout, with influence. Marriage to him would have made her life so much easier. Why take the more challenging road?
She turned a corner. He quickened his pace. People were on this street, leaving taverns and public houses, staggering home. Or plying their services. Ribald laughter hung on the air. He wondered if she had any idea where she was being led.
A man grabbed her arm, and unmitigated fury swept through him, nearly causing him to stagger with its strength. She broke free of the hold, shoved the man with enough force to send him reeling backward, and carried on. The bloke righted himself, took a step to follow her—
Finn grabbed him and delivered a blow that sent the oaf to the ground. He pointed a finger at him. “Leave off.”
Straightening, he began walking in the direction she’d been going, quickening into a trot, glancing around wildly, striving to catch sight of her among the thickening crowd, all the while his gut clenching tighter and tighter in danger of doubling him over.
Where was she? Where the devil was she?
Like a madman, he began shoving people out of his way, fighting to move more quickly as though that were the problem. He simply wasn’t running fast enough. His stealth left him. His footsteps were no longer silent. He was hit with something he hadn’t been hit with in eight years: panic.
She’d disappeared.
There were three of them, bulky men with faces so hideous that even the shadows avoided them. She suspected that had they lived a different life, they might have been handsome, but their ugliness, greed, and desire to hurt had shaped their features to reflect their inner souls. One had grabbed and dragged her into the alleyway between the two buildings, the others following with their laughter echoing off the brick walls. She hadn’t had a chance to unsheathe her rapier, and now her arms were pinned behind her back with beefy hands at her wrists serving as the shackles.
Inwardly she cursed. Knowing Finn was trailing her—she’d caught sight of him as she’d gone through the gate—she’d become irritated, distracted, hadn’t paid as much attention as she should have, and now she was in a bit of a bother, but she was far from panicked. As long as she kept her wits about her, she stood a good chance of making her way out of this mess unharmed.
“Ain’t ye a pretty one,” the smallest of the group sneered.
“I have money,” she stated firmly.
“Ye want to pay us to take ye?” her captor asked, his foul breath a vaporous fog that nearly caused her to gag.
“I shall pay you to leave me alone.”
“Ah, ye silly lass. We’ll take yer money, after we’ve—”
Because he held her too close to effectively bring her knee up, she stomped her heel down fast and hard on his instep. With a howl of pain, he loosened his grip just enough that she was able to twist free and retrieve the knife secreted away in her boot. The smallest one reached for her, and with an upward slash she sliced into his hand. Hollering, he dropped back, and the middle-sized man began bouncing on the balls of his feet as though preparing to make a dash for her.
The growl of a savage beast echoed around them, and suddenly he was off his feet flying toward the ground with such speed that she was barely able to register that someone was on top of him.
Her original captor came at her. She held the knife at the ready, prepared to plunge it deep.
