The corner of her mouth lifted, just barely, in that infuriating way she had when she believed herself wholly in the right. “I suspect the distinction will be academic. If all I need to do is point and shoot, I won’t miss at close range.”
It should have enraged me. Instead, cold fear slid beneath my ribs and took hold. The danger was no longer distant or theoretical. It was immediate and personal.
“Fine. Let’s say you’ve somehow managed to overpower the guard—something I doubt you can do—how will you get the women out?” Fighting the urge to shake her, I cupped my hands on her shoulders. “There will be more than two dozen of them, and every likelihood they will be drugged. You will not be able to rouse them or persuade them to act.”
“I will save the ones I can,” she said at once. “Including Lady Honora. You, Nicky, Finch, and his associates can deal with the rest.” She glanced up at me. “You need to trust me, Steele.”
Trust was not the difficulty. I trusted her completely. Her courage, her judgment, her resolve. Letting her walk willingly into peril was the torment.
“This is madness,” I said at last. “You speak of it as if it were an errand. These men trade in cruelty. In degradation. You cannot possibly know what?—”
“I know exactly what they are capable of,” she interrupted, her voice calm and unyielding. “I saw what they did to that poor girl in the mortuary. That is precisely why I must go, Steele. Can you not see that?”
Nothing I would say would change her mind. If I forbade her, she would find some way to get into that house. All I could do was minimize the peril.
“Your plan will not work.”
Rosalynd’s chin lifted a fraction. I saw the protest gather in her eyes, sharp as a drawn blade.
Before she could speak, I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “It will need to be revised.”
Her hands clenched. Not with fear but resolve. Stubborn, infuriating resolve.
“As long as I’m part of it.”
The words landed like a dare. I held her gaze, though every instinct in me wanted to refuse. To lock her in Rosehaven House and bar the doors.
“You will be,” I said at last, forcing the promise out with steady calm.
“Fine.” She gave a single, decisive nod, as though the matter were settled. As though my agreement did not feel like stepping toward the edge of a cliff.
“You will not be reckless,” I said at last, my voice low and absolute. “You will do nothing unless it is unavoidable. You will leave the instant you sense danger. Not after. At the first sign. Do you hear me?”
Her expression softened, though her resolve did not waver.
“And if something goes wrong,” I began.
“You will already be moving,” she said gently. “You, Finch, and his men. I know that. I trust you implicitly to do what must be done.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and braced myself against the desk, the weight of it pressing heavily against me.
She slid her arms around me and lay her head against my chest. “I trust you, Steele,” she whispered.
“Do you?” I asked, lifting her chin. “If anything were to happen to you?—”
She placed a finger against my lips. “Nothing will.”
I lowered my head and kissed her gently, as though committing her to memory. And then I drew her closer and allowed myself to believe her. Even though I knew it was a lie.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Holding their Breath
The following evening, we waited in the back room of The Black Horse for Nicky to arrive with word of where the barge would be moored.
Finch had managed to gather a dozen associates, every one of them committed to the cause we were about to undertake—the rescue of those young women, no matter the cost or the methods required.
