Her palms curved over her elbows as her gaze skittered away. “No-o-o.”
“Sarah, please. I’m not going to yell.”
With a sigh she looked at me. “They might’ve.”
My heart plummeted.
I swallowed down the first hasty words that came to my lips. “That’s dangerous for you.”
Her brown eyes were wide, wounded. “You think I don’t know? I’m nearly fifteen, Kit. God sakes, you were running a badger scheme when you were my age. Do you think I’m a fool?”
“No, of course not.” My hands formed fists inside my pockets. “Can you ... tell me exactly what happened, one moment at a time?”
“Itoldyou. I saw them across the street, under a lamp. I recognized Billy’s walk and heard Tommy’s voice—you know its high pitch. I stopped, stepped out of the light, and turned my head. I stayed in the shadows until they were well past.” Her eyes were sober, earnest. “I swear, Kit.”
“When you stopped—was it a sudden movement?”
Her face fell. “I don’t know. Likely it was. I was surprised.”
I drew a breath. “Why didn’t you tell me straightaway?”
“Because I knew you’d be like this!” She spread her hands. “You might even try to get me to quit, and I like it here,” she said pleadingly, her chin tilting up. “And they like me.”
“Ishouldmake you quit, Sarah.” Although she might be safer here than at home, where Billy and Tommy lived. If they had seen her, they might assume she worked in Mayfair, but they wouldn’t know which house—unlessSarah had mentioned the Willits name to someone at Elephant and Castle. I longed to ask, but Sarah’s face told me she felt guilty and frightened enough already.
I scrubbed my palm against my forehead and let my hand drop. “You can’t tell anyone. Just because Billy and Tommy know you doesn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt you to keep you quiet. And a secret like this could be hard for someone else to keep.”
“I know what those men are,” Sarah said softly. “No one will know but us.”
Except that James had already guessed she’d seen someone, though he didn’t know who.
A cart clattered to the top of the stairs, drawing her gaze. She looked at me miserably. “It’s another delivery for the party.” Her face was pinched with worry, but she stepped away. “I have to get back.”
“Be careful about going out until I know they didn’t see you.”
She nodded her promise and slipped back inside.
As two delivery men carrying wooden boxes of food came down the steps, I put my back against the wall to let them pass. The door opened and the housekeeper—her silver chatelaine at her waist—shooed the delivery men inside.
How difficult would it be for Billy or Tommy—or any thief dressed as a delivery man or a remover—to enter the house? Not very. Certainly not during the days before or after a party.
This house was as much a target as the Fairleighs’—indeed, more so, with all those engagement gifts stacked in piles and ready for the taking. No doubt the engagement, if not the party, had been announced in the papers.
I turned away, my stomach in knots.
As for her accusation that I was acting like Ma? That was a shot that stung and burrowed deep. But I could bear that, so long as Sarah was on her guard.
Dreading the thought of seeing Billy and Tommy at the inn, I spent the day away from Elephant and Castle, so it was dark by the time I reached my lodging house and made my way upstairs. A light came from under the door, and I composed my face, conscious of all I couldn’t tell Mary. I opened the door to find her in her wrapper, with her brown day dress in her lap, squinting as she sought to thread a needle. The curtains were drawn, and the lamp cast a dull yellow glow. “Ach,” she said with a look of relief, holding them out to me. “Could you? The eye’s tiny.”
With the ease that came of long practice, I slid the thread through the eye and passed it back to her. “I’ll do it for you, if you like. Just let me get out of my things.”
“Thanks. I’ve fixed one rip, but this one’s tricky. It’s not along a seam.”
I hung my coat on its nail and removed my boots, placing them under the bed.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Just tired.” I took the dress, casting a quick eye over the long stitches that puckered the fabric. Mary’s hands were thieving clever, but she was no seamstress. I rustled around my drawer for my small scissors, slipped a point under the threads, and began to snip. In the corner, the coal hissed inside the stove.
