“At any moment I will drop into a deep sleep.”
“It’s far too bright in this room for sleeping.”
“You’re holding me captive in this bright room to interrogate me, and I feel threatened.”
“You know no threat, from me or anyone else,” she said. “You are impervious to threat. But I am beginning to believe you had no wish to marry me at all, you saw no benefit, and you did it only out of pity.”
“It wasn’t that.”
“Then why?”
“You want me to tell you?”
She cocked her head in frustration and stifled the urge to demand,Say it.
“Fine,” he said. “I did it because I had grown weary of saving women.”
“What?” Sabine sat up.
“And children,” he added. “And every other victimized soul I stumbled upon. Or who stumbled upon me.Youwere my swan song, so to speak.”
It was not what she expected to hear. And not simply because it made no sense. His answer had absolutely nothing to do with her.
“Explain,” she said, scooting closer to him on the bed.
He let out a heavy sigh. “You know Bryson and Elisabeth Courtland?”
She nodded.
“I met this couple—well, I met Elisabeth—because she was actually an old friend of my mother’s.”
“Your mother the prostitute?”
“My mother the prostitute, yes. Never let it be said that you mince words, Sabine.”
“Well, perhaps she was, but I’m certain there was more to her than her profession.”
Stoker looked at her carefully. It was as if no one had ever suggested this notion to him. Sabine shrugged. “I am more than a travel-guide writer. I am more than an amateur smuggler hunter. I am also a compassionate nursemaid, for example.”
Stoker barked out a laugh but continued, watching her closely. “Yes, well, Elisabeth Courtland was kidnapped as a girl and my mother helped her escape a dreadful situation. They became... friends. My mother’sonlyreasonable friend. And when I was ten or eleven and took to the streets because I could no longer tolerate life inside the brothel, my mother sent me to call on Elisabeth, who was a charity crusader and niece to an esteemed countess in Mayfair. It was the one piece of useful advice my mother, God rest her, ever gave me. For weeks I followed Elisabeth. I was bored and curious and a little dazzled. I eventually approached her. A collaboration ensued.”
Sabine wrinkled her brow. “A street boy and a wealthy Mayfair maiden. What a collaboration.”
“She was a friend at first.”
“A very unlikely friend,” said Sabine.
“Elisabeth is very unlikely.”
Sabine nodded and looked at her lap. She’d seen Elisabeth Courtland on two occasions, both happenstance encounters around London, but they had never spoken. She was older than Stoker, although only by ten years or so, and she was still very beautiful, despite being a married matron with three children. She obviously regarded Stoker as a member of family. Still, Sabine felt a twinge of something unsettling. Stoker always spoke of her with such clear fondness, almost reverence.
Sabine nodded. “Go on.”
“Elisabeth’s life’s work is saving young girls from prostitution. Her charity aims to stem the tide of helpless, unwitting girls from being scooped up into this life. But her organization has always operated the way all charities do—through proper channels. She works with the church and the government. Because of the limits of traditional charities, she always felt her work was incomplete. She was powerless to actually physically extract entrenched girls from this life. And that is where I came in. I was from the streets, I knew every street and dark alley, I knew the dens of iniquity, and the lavish courtesan townhomes. The lawless underworld had been my home for as long as I could remember. I was also fifteen and seized by a restless energy that was well suited to knocking down doors, spiriting away girls into the night, fighting, conning, setting things ablaze—whatever it took. And so, working together with Elisabeth, I began to raid brothels on behalf of her charity.”
“And byraid,” asked Sabine, “you do not mean you approached these establishments formally and led the girls away? You did not negotiate with whomever was in charge? You literally stole them?”
He nodded. “We stole them. I organized a band of street boys and we began sneaking into brothels, rescuing these girls, and delivering them to Elisabeth’s care.”
