God, this really was ridiculous.
“Hadleigh, you just tried to save a woman’s life. A woman who fell to her death. How are youfeeling?”
“I failed you.” His words, wholly unexpected, made her jerk in shock. As did the volcanic emotion in his eyes. “I should never have gone after Grigg. I was angry—at so many things. I blamed him, targeted him…but I never meant for him to die.” His throat worked above his cravat. “It doesn’t absolve me of anything, but I want you to know that, Beatrice.I never meant to kill him.”
Hearing her brother’s gut-wrenching remorse, seeing the torment in his eyes, she took a step closer. Touched his quivering arm. “I believe you.”
A sheen appeared in his eyes, and he quickly looked away. She gave him the space to gather himself and, in truth, she needed it too. The emotion roiling inside her—the amalgamation of past and present—was overwhelming. She felt Wick behind her. His arms closed around her waist, and she let herself lean into his solid warmth.
After a few moments, Hadleigh cleared his throat. “Am I to congratulate the two of you?”
“Yes,” Wick said, the firmness of his tone giving her a thrill.
“I don’t expect I shall be invited to the wedding, but perhaps, in the future, at your convenience…I might call upon you, Beatrice?”
Was she ready to have her brother back in her life? She wasn’t sure. But she wasn’t ready to close the door either.
“I would like that, Ben,” she said.
At her use of his familiar name, the lines eased on his weary features, making him look more like the younger brother she’d known.
“Thank you.” He gave a gruff nod. “I’ll bid my adieu. I believe your attention is wanted elsewhere.”
As her brother left, she turned to see the mudlarks had lined up behind her.
“We’ll be on our way, milady,” Long Mikey said.
“How will I ever repay you? I still don’t understand why—”
“A wrong against me you’ll regret, but a favor to me I’ll ne’er forget.”
The words stroked her memory like a match against a tinderbox, recognition flaring.
“That boy in the park with Grigg…” she said in wonder. “He said those exact words.”
“It’s the motto o’ the mudlarks. The boy you saved, ’is name is Long Joe, and e’s my brother. ’E gives his regards, by the way.”
“Long Joe is here?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes, milady. O’er there.”
She followed the direction of Mikey’s pointed finger. A strapping brown-haired lad well over six feet tall was heading toward them. When he saw her, he grinned—showing the familiar gap between his teeth.
“We larks ’ave long owed you a favor,” Mikey went on. “When we ’eard you arrived in London and were in a spot o’ trouble, we knew it was time to pay the debt. Been keeping an eye out for you for days.”
“That’s why you were following me…to protect me?”
Mikey nodded. “Now the ledger is clean.”
A whistle pierced the night. It came from the canal, where a lighter was floating by the banks. A figure stepped from the boat’s cabin; from the distance, Bea couldn’t see much of him. He whistled again, and the children filed into line, Mikey leading and Joe shepherding. They scampered to the boat and boarded, the vessel gliding off into the darkness.
Bea looked at Wick. “I can’t believe the mudlarks were looking out for me all this time.”
He brushed his knuckles against her jaw, his eyes warm. “Your good deeds did not go unnoticed.”
“But yours have.” She drew a breath. “I’ve been so selfish, Wick. So stubborn and blind.”
“That’s untrue,” he said, frowning.
