And realised—
They were surrounded by a veritable army of Bow Street Runners.
Heat rushed instantly to her cheeks.
What must she look like—clinging to Lord Stanley as though she had entirely forgotten propriety?
Mortified, she attempted to pull away.
‘My lord, I—’
But his arms tightened slightly.
Not enough to restrain her. Merely enough to delay her escape.
As though, for one brief moment longer, he was unwilling to let her go.
Charlotte felt her breath catch.
Then, slowly—reluctantly—he released her.
She stepped back at once, smoothing her gown with trembling hands and attempting to regain some semblance of composure.
And then—
‘Tom?’
Her voice rose in alarm as she caught sight of a small familiar figure stepping forward through the cluster of men.
‘What on earth are you doing down here?’
Tom grinned at her, entirely unrepentant.
‘Saving you, of course.’
Charlotte stared at him in disbelief. She looked aghast from Tom to Lord Stanley.
‘Saving—Tom, this is not a game, you—’
She broke off, turning instinctively to Lord Stanley for an explanation.
But he merely shook his head faintly, though there was the slightest hint of amusement beneath the gravity of his expression.
‘All in good time,’ he said. ‘There shall be explanations enough once we are above ground. But for now—’
His tone shifted from gentleness to firm command.
‘We must get you to safety.’
His arm settled around her shoulders once more, steadier now and more deliberate.
Charlotte shook her head immediately.
‘No.’
He drew back slightly.
‘No?’ he repeated.
