I glared at him. “That’s a bloody awful thing to say.”
“Is it?” he asked, his voice subdued. The cab was dark, his face shadowed, his expression invisible. “I hate the thought of losing people I love, Kit. It scares me more than dying. But I don’t care how much money we have. We can’t always keep the people we love safe.” His voice fell, as if the weight of the thought dragged his spirits low. “I’d like to think so, but it’s just an artful dodge I’m playing on myself.”
The rawness in his voice melted my anger and put a burn into the back of my throat that I couldn’t swallow down.
We reached the far side of the bridge.
“How could she not tell me?” I asked, my voice cracking over the words. “She’s never lied to me outright before. She knows I can’t bear a lie. Not from someone I love.”
He didn’t reply.
The hansom jolted over a pitted patch in the macadam, and my hand came up to the leather loop strap. The edges were frayed and sticky from other palms, but I didn’t let go.
The more I considered, the more my imagined version of the previous evening seemed plausible: Sarah coming from Mayfair—the streets well lit—and by one gas lamp’s light, seeing a Castle man, perhaps on the corner or coming toward her on the pavement.
I shivered.
Would she have known not to speak to him? To turn away? Or God forbid, would she have greeted him? Had they come face-to-face?
If it was a Castle man, he likely never intended to commit murder; it was the surest way to draw police attention. It had started as a robbery—but once the servants had seen him—well, he’d have no choice. But the murders would be discovered, an investigation mounted, and if he’d seen Sarah, he knew she’d suspect him.
He’d kill Sarah to keep her quiet.
My left hand clawed the edge of the seat, and James put his on top of it. The warmth of his showed me how cold mine were.
“Wait till you talk to her before you go too far down that road,” he said.
I managed a nod, and he removed his hand from mine. He remained quiet all the way to the inn, where we dismounted and he paid the driver. I looked at him uncertainly. Wasn’t he going back to Fleet Street?
“I’m staying with Emma. She’s expecting me.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Good night, Kit. Try not to worry. Sarah’s a sensible girl.” With that, he turned away, vanishing into the shadows.
But Emma’s was in the other direction.
Full of misgiving, I picked up my skirts and followed. As I rounded the corner, a strong hand came out and grasped my arm.
I yanked back—until I saw it was James.
“Where are you going?” I hissed. “You can’t ask about Sarah—”
“Jaysus, Kit!” He rolled his eyes skyward as if I was being ridiculous. “What do you take me for?”
My voice hardened. “This isserious, James. I need you topromiseyou won’t—”
Every bit of humor vanished from his face. “When have Ieverbetrayed you, or been unfair? When did I ever fail you? Or arrive too late?”
The fierceness of it startled me, and I stepped backward for space to sift my memories of our badger dodges. Foremost of my recollections was laughing with him afterward. But he wasn’t wrong. He had never let the mark get beyond a kiss or two, and he’d always made me take more than half the poke. “You’re doing most of the work,” he’d say. “It’s only fair.”
The way he looked now, his eyes deadly serious and fixed on mine, gave me a peculiar feeling, like the pivoting of a small screw, a gear of a watch slipping a quarter turn under my fingers. Was it possible I’d been wrong about him—or had he changed from what I once knew, and I was just noticing? Was this what Sarah had been trying to tell me?
“Didn’t I?” he asked. “Keep you safe?”
“Yes.” It came out barely above a whisper.
His expression eased. “Then trust me now. I’m not going toaskanything, and I won’t mention Sarah. I’m just going to listen.”
I swallowed. “Listen where?”
“Caleb’s game,” he said. “Half the Castle men will be there. If I hear anything, I’ll send you word.”
