Page 30 of Forgotten No More

She’d found her tongue, but Harold wasn’t quite ready to take his leave. The girl was not about to sound the alarm at their presence, or she already would have. “I am sure we can await his arrival.”

“Are you crazy?” Ruby asked in a whisper.

“Only as crazy as you for dragging us into this,” he replied.

She flashed a pleading look at him. “Please, let us out of here.”

“I fear it is too late for us to depart unscathed.”

“The marquis never handles business here, nor do the servants use this room,” the girl retorted. “Now, I must decide what to do with the pair of you.”

“What to do with us?” Ruby sounded breathless beside him.

The girl cocked her head in thought, her finger tapping her pinched lips. “Maybe I will call the magistrate.”

Harold had wanted a little adventure, to make a few memories before he was forced to settle down, but taken to the Newgate? He could not imagine explaining this to Brock, let alone his father.

“That will not be necessary,” Ruby pleaded. “This was all a misunderstanding. If you’ll only give me the opportunity to explain.”

Ruby had insisted that Drake was out for the evening and not expected to return until the wee hours of the morning. That had been the only reason Harold had even entertained the idea of letting her follow through with her absurd plan. It was clear that she felt the outcome of her search could affect her greatly, but he wanted to know how—even if that put him in peril. The punishment for stealing from the wealthy and titled was grave, since every man in Parliament was of wealthy and titled birth. They did not take kindly to those who sought to take what they saw as their own.

It was highly doubtful that either of them would be smiling if they were sitting in a jail cell, eating moldy bread and drinking putrid water from the River Thames.

“I believe we started on the wrong foot. Let us introduce ourselves,” Harold began his last-ditch effort to save them both.

Ruby stiffened at his side. “No—”

Harold clasped her elbow in comfort. “I do apologize for the confusion. We are here on official business.” He executed a slight, awkward bow, keeping his hold on Ruby firm. “You see, my associate is a representative of Foldger’s Foundling House, an orphanage in Hampshire. I wrote the Marquis of Drake to set up a meeting for this evening to discuss a sizable donation.”

The girl snorted—actually snorted. He’d never heard a female make that particular sound, but for some reason it fit the young woman. “While that sounds completely believable and—for any other member of the ton—a generous cause, you have obviously never made the acquaintance of the marquis. One, he would rather gather his shillings in a bag and toss them in the ocean than donate them. And secondly…” She ticked her reasons off on her fingers. “He is more likely to throw children in after his money than to see it spent on them.”

“I beg your pardon?” he stuttered, sure he had misheard her.

“I said, he would rather sink his money and orphaned children along with it than willingly give coin away.” A catlike smile overtook her face.

She enjoyed their discomfort. The little minx!

“Now, I would be remiss if I allowed the pair of you to walk out of here without paying for your deception,” she continued, her smile growing ever more devious. “So, are either of you gamblers?”

Harold shook his head, and he sensed Ruby doing the same. “I do believe if you think on it a bit, no harm has been done. I can contact the marquis at a later date that works within his busy schedule.”

“Lucky for you both, I am.” She turned from the dark room and signaled for them to follow her, without giving the impression she’d heard Harold’s words. “This way, please. We will need a more hospitable place to discuss our wager.”

They followed her, single file, down the dim corridor. Harold tried to situate himself in front of Ruby in a misguided attempt to protect her from the unknown dangers posed by the slight figure in front of them. But true to form, Ruby—head high and shoulders squared—marched as if on her way to the guillotine. He maneuvered himself to her side, determined to face whatever lay ahead unified. A bulk of the responsibility for their situation set firmly on his shoulders, he was fully aware. He was the man, after all, and should have been able to waylay her plan, if not dissuade her completely. No part of their situation was funny, yet he found himself chuckling at the thought of ever dissuading Ruby when she had her mind set on something.

His laugh stopped abruptly when Ruby shot a glare at him, followed by an almost identical glare from their unknown capture. He hadn’t the time to ponder the resemblance before they all stopped outside a room off the dark corridor, closer to the main entrance.

As they entered, Harold gazed around the foyer. With no servants in sight—and Brock keeping the marquis occupied at White’s—they very well may escape before anymore notice was given to them.

“Sit, please.” The girl swung her arm wide, ushering them into the room lit by several candles and a blazing fire, overly warm for the mild weather outside.

Ruby immediately moved to sit on a straight-backed chair, her head lowered as if she were waiting to be scolded by her schoolmarm. Harold opted for an armchair, directly across from Ruby. The chair was comfortable, which he considered fortunate. There was no telling how long the girl planned to string them along, threatening detainment by the magistrate.

The only other available seat facing them was a long, low-slung lounge chair. Not surprisingly, the girl opted to pace the length of the room, her arms clasped tightly behind her as she surveyed her prey.

Yes, Harold felt as if he were a mouse, eyed from above by a falcon waiting to swoop down and sink its talons deep.

“Where were we?” she asked. “Oh, yes! What to do with two unwanted intruders.”