Her forehead wrinkled. “‘Until all those who wear the cursed bands reunite with one another in the presence of the box, they cannot be removed. If the bracelets are not returned to the box by the eclipse of the full moon, those enslaved will surely perish.’” She bookmarked the spot with her hand and looked up at him. “It does appear my mortality is still at risk.”
He grabbed another chair and angled it across from her. “Esme, you’re not going to die. I’ll make certain of that.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and exhaled slowly.
She released a shaky laugh. “Somehow I don’t think you can prevent an ancient curse from taking its toll.”
Fielding could only look at her in silence. Perhaps his fair maiden was finally beginning to understand that he was no hero.
“What about the Raven’s men? Should we locate them and try to warn them? Can they be reasoned with?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Thatcher has never been particularly steady. I do know that the Raven would never be so fond of an employee that he wouldn’t use them as leverage.”
“Surely they would see reason if we explained to them the seriousness of the curse.”
He wiped a hand down his face. “These men are unscrupulous, Esme. They can be cutthroat and dangerous, and they are not to be trifled with. And they are not afraid of curses. Or death. More than anything, though, they are loyal to the Raven. Without hesitation.”
“But you said Waters was most likely afraid of the Raven,” she countered.
“Oftentimes fear and loyalty go hand in hand.”
“You are not taking into consideration the bands they wear.” She fumbled with her own as she spoke, the gold twinkling as it twirled around her wrist. “The strong pull they have. The way they can make you do things you will only regret later.” She met his eyes as she spoke.
Her words were well deserved, but they hurt nonetheless. He had gone out of his way to prove to her he was not the hero she made him out to be. Evidently his hard work had paid off, as she clearly wished she’d never let him touch her.
“Where will we find Waters?” she asked.
“We?” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Oh, no.” He stepped over to the window.
“Oh, no, what?” Esme asked. “If you think to leave me behind, you are quite mistaken.”
“Damnation, Esme, I will not argue with you about this.” He turned away from the window to face her. “The places I’ll have to go to look for Waters are not for for a lady. It’s too dangerous in those parts of the city.”
“Fielding, I’m going to die in less than a week if I do nothing. I hear your argument, but in light of my circumstances, it’s weak.” She slowly made her way over to his side and smiled sweetly. “I’ll be right by your side, and no harm will come to me. Would you allow anything to happen to me?” She tentatively touched his chest.
He gritted his teeth, then rolled his eyes. “That is a ridiculous question. But whether or not I would protect you isn’t even the point.” He grabbed her arms and looked into her eyes. “Putting you in a position where you could get hurt would be grossly irresponsible of me.”
“Ah, but I managed to get myself kidnapped without your help. So it is not as if you’d be introducing danger into my life for the first time.”
He exhaled in frustration and dropped his arms.
She straightened, her slight height gaining at least an inch. “I am a grown woman.” She frowned as she pointed a delicate finger at him. “I certainly do not need you to tell me”—she jabbed him in the chest—“what I can or cannot do. If you won’t allow me to go with you, I’ll simply hire a rig and follow you.”
He eyed her for several minutes, hoping his glare would make her back down, intimidate her, but it didn’t work. She was quite serious; he could see it in the firm set of her chin and the unwavering look in her eyes. She would follow him, and then if she got lost or too far behind he wouldn’t be able to protect her.
He swore loudly, which only made her smile as she recognized her triumph.
“I am not happy about this,” he said.
“Duly noted.” She slanted him a mocking frown.
“I’m serious, Esme. This is not a part of town you’ve ever been in. It’s dangerous; it’s dirty; it smells terrible. I cannot prepare you for what you might see on the street.”
“I know about prostitutes,” she said defiantly.
“I’m only trying to warn you.”
“Consider me warned. I’ll try not to be too shocked by anything we see. Or smell.” She did nothing to hide her impish grin.
The following evening, Fielding and Esme sat in a darkened corner of a less-than-reputable tavern on the edge of the Thames. Fielding had insisted she wear a cloak and keep the hood up around her face, which made seeing anything around her rather challenging. He himself had worn a greatcoat, and together they kept to the shadows.
