***
Mark felt her pulse pounding in his grip. The girl’s heart raced like a trapped hare—and for good reason. She’d stowed away in his carriage, the little minx. She’d best explain herself.
“Speak,” he said, tightening his hold on her, “Or I’ll toss you out onto the cobbles.”
He wouldn’t. Such a frail little thing, she looked like a street urchin. Shesmelledlike a street urchin. If he chucked her from a moving carriage, she’d probably break every bone in her malnourished body.
“Speak! Sharpish!” Mark shook her—lightly—for emphasis.
“I-I’m sorry, sir. Truly, I am. You see, I was in a spot of trouble back there, and I needed a place to hide. I meant no harm, guvnor. I swear it!”
He eyed her. “What sort of trouble?”
She was going to lie to him, he knew. Her eyes looked everywhere but to his. “Two men were chasing me. Real rough thugs. Brutes, they were. I hid in the rosebushes ’till I found my chance. If you could just put me out on any corner hereabouts, I’d be ever so grateful. We could…say no more about it?”
Now her gaze met his. Her eyes were blue, rimmed with red—not from tears, but from a life on the streets spent inhaling soot and smoke. Mark noticed her skin was pale, streaked with ash and grime. She bore a scuff on her cheek. A fresh scuff, as if someone had dragged her face along a brick wall.
A prostitute, surely. Despite her wretched state, she was young and pretty enough to earn a decent living on her back.
“What did they want with you?” he asked.
He waited for a lie. What she did next surprised him.
The girl reached into her skirt pocket and produced a man’s purse. “This,” she said, offering it to him.
Mark dropped her arms to reach for the wallet. It looked stuffed with money.
The instant he turned her loose, the little tart scrambled for the door. She wrenched it open as the carriage clipped down Park Lane. She was going to jump!
“Don’t!” he cried, letting the purse fall forgotten. “You’ll break your neck!”
She looked back at him, her blue eyes wide. She was scared. She did notwishto jump, but what choice had she?
Mark held his hands out to her. “I won’t hurt you. Please!”
The carriage door swung freely. It clapped against the side of the landau, which spooked the horses.Clap! Crack! Clap!The greys bolted. The driver shouted.
They picked up speed heading straight toward Marble Arch. The runaway team galloped toward their deaths, too dumb and too terrified to consider the consequences of their actions. If they hit traffic at this pace, it would cause an accident of terrible, tragic proportions.
Above him, in the driver’s box, his coachman fought to rein in the team. Mark could hear the man speaking to soothe the horses. In a desperate effort, the man hauled them back with all his strength, sending the landau careening up onto the pavement.
It slowed them long enough for the skilled driver to regain control, but the sudden jerk of the carriage sent Mark and the girl lurching forward. He lost his balance. She lost her grip.
She screamed as she fell through the open doorway.
CHAPTER TWO
The man’s hand latched onto her jacket hem. He hauled her back into the carriage an instant before she splattered onto the cobblestones.
“Cor blimey!” she said as she sprawled onto the carriage floor. Eliza struggled to catch her breath.
“You little fool, what were you thinking? You could have got us all killed.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Please don’t turn me in to the coppers.”
He blinked at her. “Why would I do that?”
She’d tossed him the pocket book as a distraction. It lay on the floor between his feet. She looked down at it, but all she could focus on were his polished black shoes. He’d been dressed for going out—he wore white tie and tails—but hadn’t disembarked at the duchess’ ball.
