Again, he asked, “Why would I turn you in to the police?” He followed her gaze. Keeping one hand firmly on her arm, he picked the wallet up with the other. He thumbed through it. Just as she’d expected, the fine leather purse was stuffed with tenners and twenties. There must have been fifteen hundred pounds in there!
“Stolen, I presume?”
She nodded. “Please, sir. Not the coppers.”
He took a deep breath, trying to decide what to do with her. Yes, she was a thief, a stowaway. But she would surely hang for taking such a fortune. “If I promise not to report you, do you swear not to run? Give me your word, girl. When I turn you loose, you’ll stay put.”
For some inexplicable reason, she trusted this stranger. He’d saved her from falling, after all. “I swear it.”
He let go of her arm. The carriage had stopped. Eliza could easily have hopped out and ran off into the night, but she stayed where she sat.
The man leaned out of the carriage to speak with his coachman. When he was certain everything was all right—he asked about the landau, of course, but also after his fine grey horses and the young footman who’d nearly been bounced off the box—he closed the door. She’d missed her chance to escape.
“You’re kind to worry about them,” she whispered.
“Ah, so you do have compassion, then? A little late, perhaps, but I’m pleased to find you’ve some idea of the danger you put my driver, my footman, my horses, and myself in.”
He was cross with her.
“Again, I’m sorry.” She truly was.
The man sighed, settled back in his seat, and tossed her the purse. “How’d you come by it?”
She ran her fingers through the money. Such a fortune couldn’t be real. “Lifted it off a gent walking near Piccadilly. He was easy enough, but I didn’t realize he had pals.”
“The two thugs?”
She nodded. “They chased me ’till I was nearly out of breath. I ran and ran, and when I couldn’t run anymore, I hid. That’s when I saw your carriage at the kerb. I thought it empty.”
“And what did you intend to do with my carriage?”
“Hop out when it stopped somewhere far enough away that I’d be safe to walk home.”
The man studied her dirty face and ragged clothes. “Where is home?”
“Nowhere, currently. I’ve been sleeping rough.”
At that, he frowned. “I see.”
“Where is your home?” Eliza didn’t know why she was curious about him. She didn’t know him, and likely never would. Best case scenario, she never saw this fellow again.
“I suppose you’ll find out soon enough—we’re almost there.”
The carriage limped around the side of a large townhouse. Through the window, she saw bright lamps and flower pots on the terrace. This was Green Street, just off Park Lane, home to toffs and debutantes. A quiet, safe place where one might sip tea in one’s private garden or promenade in nearby Hyde Park.
“You livehere?”
“Are you surprised, girl?” She swore a smile tickled his lips.
Eliza couldn’t help but grin. “I just meant…well, it’s rather grand, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is.”
The carriage door opened. The footman stood at the kerb, trying his best not to stare at the stowaway. Seeing her must have been a shock, as no one but her gentleman savior had known she was even on board.
She climbed out of the landau. The man followed. Eliza tucked the pocketbook safely into her skirt and turned to extend her hand to him.
“Thanks for saving my life back there,” she said, “and I’m sorry about spooking your horses.”
