Just a gentleman in a brown coat who did not look at her. A woman hurrying past with her head down against the wind.
Stop it. Nothing is going to happen surrounded by so many people.
She had almost convinced herself by the time she turned back and nearly walked into the girl.
“Can you help me?” she asked.
She was young, perhaps nine or ten, with a scarf wound around her dark hair and a dress that had been mended so many times, the original fabric was almost a memory. Her shoes were even worse.
Tilly bent slightly to speak to her. “What do you need?”
The girl had wide, dark eyes that were wet with what looked like genuine tears. “I need your help. My brother is injured,” she said.
“Of course.” Tilly straightened, already thinking of what was in her reticule, wondering whether there was enough tocover the cost of a cab to take the boy somewhere and her own journey home. “What has happened to him? Where is he?”
But the girl did not answer. Instead, she turned and ran. Not away, but sideways, back toward the narrow lanes, and then, stopping in the gap between two buildings where shadows swallowed most of her tiny figure, she turned and beckoned.
Tilly hesitated for just a moment, every self-preservation instinct she’d spent years honing battling with the need to help the child.A boy is injured and needs your help.Taking a deep breath, she followed.
The gap between the buildings was barely wide enough for her skirts. She turned sideways, the books tucked hard against her ribs, and edged through into the darkness. It smelled of damp stone and something older and less pleasant. Ahead of her, the girl’s pale scarf bobbed like a signal flag.
“He is here. Hurry!”
The passage opened onto what looked to be a loading dock, a wide, flat space behind the buildings, entirely enclosed on three sides and currently empty of carts or workers. There were great wooden doors to her left that were padlocked shut. Barrels were stacked against the far wall.
Tilly stepped out of the passage and turned to ask the girl where her brother was and heard footsteps behind her.
Three men were advancing, and Tilly knew they had been waiting for her. Looking for the child again, she saw she’d gone. Her job had been to lure Tilly here, no doubt with the promise of some coins.
She hurried back toward the lane, but it was too late. They were on her. Something dark and heavy came downover her head, and panic had her inhaling. The wool smelled musty. Tilly screamed and then swung her fist. It connected with something hard, and she heard a grunt. She then kicked. More curses rang out as her boot hit a leg.
Then someone caught both her arms from behind, and the books went down, hitting the cobbles with a thud. She fought with everything she had, twisting, pulling, and trying to drop her weight the way she’d once read that one should do when seized because the weight of even a small person is considerable when they are entirely unwilling. The wool was in her mouth when she tried to shout, muffling the words.
Then something wound around her arms, pinning them to her sides. She felt the rope biting into her skin through the layers of her clothing as they tightened it. Her legs were bound next, and she would have fallen if they hadn’t been holding her up.
“Why are you doing this?” The words were muffled by the cloth over her face, but she knew they would have heard them. “Who sent you?”
No one answered her. She was then lifted and carried as if she weighed no more than the small girl who had lured her here.
Where were they taking her? Why was this happening? Thoughts tumbled over and over inside her head. Could this be to do with her club or what was happening below it?
She heard the rough scrape of boots over cobbles, but no one spoke. Tilly focused, trying to work out where they were taking her, but with no vision, that was not easy. She heard what she thought was the squeak of a door hinge, and then the street noise was gone, and only the sound of footsteps remained.
Ambrose, she thought, and then was immediately furious with herself for thinking about him. What could he do forher now? He was gone, and she was alone with her wits. She must stay calm until an opportunity for escape arose.
But right then, she felt a desperate need to see the man who she felt far too many emotions for. A man she may never see again.
CHAPTER 20
“Is there a particular reason you have summoned your family together, Mother?” Violet asked.
Ambrose looked up from his plate, which was full of roast meat and potatoes. There were also carrots, which his family’s cook glazed with honey. He’d never tasted better in all of London and beyond.
“Can I not just wish to have all my family together at our table?”
Looking from Charles to Violet, Ambrose saw they didn’t believe his mother’s reasoning, just as he didn’t.
His plan had been to arrive, eat as much as he could before all hell broke loose, as surely it would, then leave and go to his club, which he told himself was simply because he wanted to and not so that he may catch a glimpse of the woman who was slowly driving him mad.
