"And her mother," Marianne murmured.
Desire curled in Ambrose's gut.
"Mr. Kent's family is staying with us as well," she continued. "He has a sister named Polly the same age as you, and I think you two will get along famously."
"I've never had a friend. Or been around other children." Primrose's voice lost some of its cheery confidence, and her small hands clutched her ever present doll.
"You'll like Polly and my other siblings," Ambrose assured her even as he saw Marianne's lips form a tight line.
In order to spare her daughter from further trauma, she hadn't revealed the full extent of Coyner's nefarious plan. She'd said that Coyner had stolen Primrose because he wanted a child of his own. At Ambrose's urging, Marianne had warned her daughter that Coyner was a dangerous man—that whilst he might seem kind on the outside, he was not to be trusted and under no circumstances should Primrose have any contact with him. Though Primrose's brow had furrowed, she'd agreed.
Arriving at the townhouse, Ambrose disembarked first, and when he found no sign of threat, he escorted Marianne and Primrose into the house where his family was waiting. They were greeted with shrieks of welcome and the usual pandemonium. By the time the dust settled, Primrose stood sandwiched between Polly and Violet, her arms linked with the other girls'.
"May we show Primrose her room?" Polly said.
"We decorated it," Violet added. "Emma cut yellow roses from the garden, and Harry and I helped put up the new bed-hangings."
Marianne smiled. "How lovely of you all. Would you like to go with them, Rosie?"
"Yes, please," her daughter said with shining eyes.
"I'll be along in a minute," Marianne promised.
After everyone left, she turned to Ambrose.
"What is it, love?" he said.
"I don't know. Having Primrose here, at last, it's like a dream…" She trailed off, shadows darkening her gaze. "Oh, Ambrose, she's safe now, isn't she?"
He cupped Marianne's face in his palms.
"We'll keep her safe," he said. "You have my word on that."
* * *
The next few days passed in a blur of activity. Ambrose insisted that until Coyner was caught, Marianne and Primrose remain in the house. Marianne agreed... and, to his exasperation, proceeded to bring the world into her townhouse instead. Day after day, he and Lugo scrutinized a parade of dressmakers, shoemakers, and haberdashers as they tromped their way to the drawing room. Not only did Marianne outfit Primrose to the nines, but she insisted the Kents have the same royal treatment as well.
Indeed, his family's future was looking as bright as their new buttons. Yesterday, Magistrate Simpson from Wapping Station had come to offer Ambrose reinstatement as Principle Surveyor. Apparently, his old superior Dalrymple had been investigated and sacked for malfeasance, and Ambrose and his team would now be working under Simpson. Simpson had given Ambrose a raise and assigned him as liaison to Bow Street during the ongoing hunt for Coyner. Shaking hands with his new magistrate, Ambrose had been reassured by the other's forthright grip.
Then, at week's end, more good news arrived, delivered this time by a Runner named George Smythe. Ambrose had met Smythe before at the Bow Street offices; something about the fellow's pomaded curls and flashy waistcoat set his teeth on edge. It didn't help matters that Smythe was making eyes at Marianne as she opened the missive bearing Sir Birnie's official seal.
"Have you been with Bow Street long, Mr. Smythe?" Ambrose said curtly.
"A few months, give or take. Made my reputation as a thief-taker before that." Smythe winked. "But the ladies—they prefer a Runner, eh?"
Ambrose scowled at the same time that Marianne said, "My God."
"What is it?" he asked.
"They've got Coyner." She raised glimmering eyes. "They found him in France, and they're bringing him back to face justice."
Knots loosened in Ambrose's chest. He opened his arms, and Marianne walked into them, burying her face against his chest.
"Welcome news indeed," he said hoarsely. "When did they find Coyner?"
"Three days ago," Smythe said. "Accounting for the travel time, they expect to have him back in London by early next week."
A shudder traveled through Marianne, and Ambrose held her closer.
