She took it, then nearly screeched when he lifted her into his arms. Such strong arms, so powerful. Thornley’s holding of her paled in comparison to being cradled by this strapping young man as he hurried down the stairs. The comparison was unfair to Thorne, who had held her as a gentleman would, with a certain amount of distance because it was the proper way to do it, and in their world doing things properly was of the utmost importance.
Once they’d again reached a carpeted hallway, he lowered her feet to the floor, took the lantern from her, grabbed her hand, and led her in a mad dash to the kitchens.
Before she had time to ponder that no servants were about, he opened a door and escorted her outside. After quietly closing the door, he picked up a satchel and headed toward the path that led to the mews.
Glancing over her shoulder, she noted no light coming to life in any windows. They’d done it! They’d made a successful escape. Funny how the realization filled her with such joy that she wanted to leap in the air and kick her heels together, as though she’d accomplished something truly remarkable. She’d never before thought about doing something she shouldn’t, and here she was about to make an entire night of it.
In the alleyway was the ugly cart, the one that had taken Sophie from her. After slinging his bag into the back, he blew out the candle in his lantern and placed it inside. Taking her hand again, he led her to the front, placed his hands on her waist, and hefted her with ease onto the hard, wooden bench seat. Then he climbed up the side of the wagon, scrambled over her, took the reins, and urged the pair of horses forward.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice low and deep in the quiet of the night, calling forth all manner of secrets.
She nearly laughed, only then realizing they’d never been properly introduced. She shouldn’t have even spoken to him, much less clambered into a wagon with him. Unexpectedly, she was hit with an unwelcome feeling she wasn’t the first girl to do so. “Lady Lavinia.”
“Fancy name.”
“I’m a fancy lady. What’s your name?”
“Finn.”
She suspected he was far too complex for so simple a name. “What’s your surname?”
“Trewlove.”
She furrowed her brow. “I overheard my brother talking with a friend this afternoon about a Trewlove and a gaming hell. Is that yours?”
“My brother’s. Aiden.”
“He said it’s a secret place.”
With the occasional streetlamp guiding them, she could make out his shrug.
“It’s not exactly a licensed gentlemen’s club.”
“But if people can’t find it—”
“Oh, they find it. It appeals to the swells because it’s not quite proper. Makes them feel as though they’re bad and mad and living dangerously.” He chuckled low. “When they haven’t a clue what living dangerously is truly like.”
She suspected he knew, suspected he knew very well. She was probably a fool for trusting him, and yet for some reason she’d never felt safer in her life. “Why didn’t you kill Sophie?”
He tugged on the brim of his cap, bringing it down lower as though the half-moon in the black velvety sky would blind him. “Dunno. Seemed a waste of good horseflesh. But you can’t tell your father, ever. My boss would see me in prison.”
“You did it without his permission?”
“Nah, I had his permission, but he’d say I didn’t in order to protect his business, his license. Like I told you earlier, if we don’t do the job, we get reported. They’d close us down, find someone else more trustworthy.”
She studied his profile, limned more by moonlight now than streetlamps, the latter becoming fewer. She didn’t want to consider that he might be taking her out of London, out of England entirely. Why wasn’t she feeling some unease? What spell had he cast over her? She seldom spoke to servants, much less commoners, and yet here she was, intrigued by a man who’d only recently left boyhood behind. “Why do you do such a cruel thing?”
“I don’t see it as cruelty, but mercy to put a beast out of its misery. I have a way with horses, of talking with them, calming them. I send them to horse heaven without them even knowing they’re going to take the journey.”
“But there are other ways to earn a living.”
“Someone has to take on the unpleasant tasks, so folks like you aren’t even aware they exist.”
She heard a bit of disgust in his voice, knew she might be deserving of it because she was sheltered and protected. If she was honest, she would go so far as to say she was spoiled. Her father had announced at dinner that he’d already managed to purchase another horse for her and it would be delivered by the end of the week. She never went without for long.
“How is your arm?” he asked, the genuine interest in his tone taking her by surprise, and she imagined him whispering to the horses with the same amount of caring.
“It hurts a bit.” The jarring of the wagon added to the discomfort, not that she was going to complain to him about it. “I was given a dose of laudanum before retiring. It puts my mind in a fog, no doubt the reason I came out with you tonight.”
