“Now,” the woman demanded.
Zach was now sure he’d heard her speak before, but it was the French that was throwing him.Did he know her?
“Or what?” one of the men leered. “Maybe if we take you away from him, we can have some fun without paying for it.”
“Do you think she wears the veil because she’s ugly,” one of the men said.
“Not about to look at her face. It’s the other parts that interest me,” another said.
Zach stepped from the shadows just as the woman raised her skirts. She lashed out with her foot and caught one of the men in the chest, forcing him backward. Plunge swung his fist and sent another staggering.
Zach entered the fray swinging fists.
“Run, Madame Lucienne!” he roared. She ignored him and continued to kick out with her feet. Small, shapely, and deadly, he thought as she lashed out again and connected with a man’s knee, forcing him back to howl in pain.
Taking precious seconds, he looked at the woman to ensure she was all right. The veil had risen, and he saw her chin and lips. His chest gave a vicious thud.
It couldn’t be.
Zach heard the thud of feet, as did the men still standing.
“Go, more are coming!” one of them yelled. Picking up their fallen friends, they disappeared into the dark.
“I blame you for this, cousin! Your baser needs forced me to come here. Get me from this place!” Plunge cried dramatically. “I fear I am about to faint.”
A volley of French followed, then a howl of pain from Plunge. “My wrist is surely broken!”
“Stay,” Zach growled as he turned to watch his brothers arrive. When he looked back, it was to find Plunge and Madame Lucienne walking away. Light from the brothel highlighted them briefly, and it was the long blonde curl that drew his eye.
“Wait!” he roared.
She picked up her skirts, and in seconds, both had disappeared into the darkness.
“It can’t be,” Zach whispered, his feet rooted to the spot.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Sleep had not come easy to Zach last night when he’d finally reached his bed after visiting Madam Bolade’s. He’d tossed and turned, thinking that surely he was wrong. Madame Lucienne was not in fact Mary. But he could not doubt the conclusion he’d come to.
Eventually he’d risen to sit in the window and wait for dawn.
He’d told his brothers and Forrest what he believed as they’d left the brothel, and to their credit, they had not thought him mad. They had, however, been concerned and asked him questions. When they fell silent, it had been a sobering drive back to their lodgings while they all grappled with Zach’s belief about Mary.
After watching the pathetic attempt at sunrise over London, Zach decided he needed to walk. Dressing himself, as his valet would expire from heart palpitations were he to see him awake at such an hour, he left the still quiet house.
Raising the collar of his overcoat, Zach struck out in any direction, which just happened to be left. He walked to clear his head, but his thoughts became even more jumbled.
He worked back over what he could remember about Mary’s behavior. He could find nothing to alert him that she was anything but what he’d always believed her to be. A lady. Annoying and irritating yes, but always a lady. The daughter of Lord Blake. Member of Alexius.
That thought had a shiver traversing his spine.
“Morning to you.”
Looking up from his contemplation of the cracked path, he found a vendor standing huddled in a thick coat and scarf smiling at him. Beside him was another, an old woman wrapped in a blanket that had a hole for her head.
“Good morning, what are you selling?”
“Fruit pies, and Bessie has pea soup.”
