Except there was no longer any sign of him. The bastard was getting away. He’d have the chance to rally and pose additional threats in the future. But going after him might not be as easy as Adrian wished. Truth was, Edward was right. Adrian wasn’t in any position to rescue Samantha or hunt down O’Leary.
So he pushed aside all his pride and said, “Can you please go see if I hit him or if he escaped?”
“Of course.” No questions asked, Edward went to do as Adrian requested.
“You ought to take Kendrick with you,” Adrian called after him. “Just to be safe.”
Edward sent him a backward wave, and Adrian returned his attention to the building that remained standing. He swallowed and started toward it, his pace slow and awkward. Light would be helpful, even if it was only a little.
Spying a piece of broken wood near his feet, he grabbed it, then tore his cravat from around his neck and tied it to one end. Once secure, he rummaged through his pocket until he found his tinderbox. A few seconds later, and his makeshift torch was burning. It probably wouldn’t last long, so he’d best make good use of it while he was able.
Rubble shifted beneath the soles of his feet, displacing his balance and making him wince as fresh pain drove its way through his ankle. He stopped, steadied himself, then continued climbing over the piles of debris with more care. The light from his torch fell on the family huddled against a partially demolished corner of their home. They barely had any roof left over their heads.
“Go to The Toothless Cat inn,” he told them. “Ask for Dunken and tell him Mr. Croft sent you.” He pulled some coins from his pocket and placed them on the closest flat surface — the remains of a wall. “Return here tomorrow if you want your home rebuilt.”
None of the people moved or uttered a word. It wasn’t until Adrian put distance between them and himself that he heard the scurry of feet. One of them had gone for the blunt. The man, no doubt. And while there was every chance in the world that he and the rest of his family thrived on stealing, Adrian couldn’t ignore what they were forced to endure. Not when he felt he was partially to blame.
A gust of frigid air swept toward him, freezing the raindrops that clung to his face and nearly extinguishing his light. The flame guttered, but continued to burn.
The building he’d been approaching wasn’t far now. He set his palm against a brick wall for support, then scrambled over a pile of bricks blocking the street.
Back on solid ground, he slipped a dagger concealed in his jacket sleeve into his palm, and advanced toward the front door.
It creaked open before he took his next breath, putting his body on instant alert. Every muscle went taut as he readied himself to face a potential threat. Never mind the fact that his ankle now roared in pain. He gritted his teeth, curled his fingers tightly around the dagger’s grip and positioned himself in a wide-legged stance with his arm raised, prepared to strike.
But it wasn’t a brutish thug who stepped into the torchlight once the door had been fully opened. Nor was it Chapman, the scoundrel who’d probably built the bomb for O’Leary.
It was Melody Roberts with her arm slung around Samantha as they stumbled into the open outdoors together. Behind them came another woman, followed by Murry.
Adrian’s heart could barely stand it. His hands started shaking so violently he dropped his dagger. They were alive. Both of them lived. A realization that made his eyes sting with emotion.
Merciful heavens.
He handed the torch to Murry, who refused to meet his gaze. “I think it’s time you found yourself a new valet.”
Adrian stared at him, at the bruises marring his face. “What are you talking about?”
“I failed both you and your wife. She rescued me when I ought to have rescued her.”
“You were restrained and locked in a room that was bolted shut from the outside,” Samantha whispered.
“I know, but—”
“You’re alive,” Adrian said, his voice firm, the words directed not only at Murry but also at Samantha.
Desperate to have her back in his arms, he reached for her, his gut twisting in response to the damage caused to her beautiful face. But it could have been worse. She could have been carved to pieces. Killed. Yet she was whole and they were together again. He hugged her to him, palms splayed across her back as he buried his face against her neck and breathed in her scent.
“Thank Christ you’re all right,” he murmured. And then, “I’m sorry, Samantha. This never should have happened to you. It’s all my fault and—”
“No.” She nudged him back, forced him to meet her cold gaze. “You didn’t do this. O’Leary did. And I will find him so I can have my revenge.”
Adrian nodded. Looking at the bruises that edged her eyes, the swelling that made it difficult for her to blink, her puffy lip and the cut on one cheek, he was ready to murder O’Leary himself. A notion that made him look toward the end of the alley and the two figures now striding toward their assembled group.
“Well?” Adrian asked once Kendrick and Edward came within earshot.
“You missed,” Edward said. “O’Leary’s gone.”
With this confirmation, Adrian told Samantha, “I’ll help you catch him.” To Melody and her companion, he hastened to add, “You should go, before Marsdale sees you.”
