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The streets were no place for a lady of Orris’s status. Yes, these were mostly street merchants and their customers, but there were also pickpockets and any other urchin looking to garner a few extra coin by any means. Abram was glad he had gotten to her when he had. She might have been light a reticule before making it home—that was, if she were to make it home at all.

“I believe that is her,” he said over his shoulder.

“I am aware,” she said, finally ceasing her incessant yanking.

Orris was stronger than she looked, Abram noted as a cramp formed in the hand he used to hold her. Pulling her closer, he centered her in front of him and held on to her shoulders to keep her from running off. “Please, Orris,” he whispered into the sweet scent of her hair. “I cannot protect you if you sprint away from me.”

“It is you who required protection, remember?” She tossed a scornful look at him over her shoulder, those brown eyes fiery, blazing a hole into him. At least she did not try to escape his grip. There were so many dangerous-looking characters on the street, it was all he could do to keep from tossing her over his shoulder and carting her out of there.

They reached the merchant, a pale woman who had more dirt on her clothes than the people back home who worked the land. Her white hair was stringy, escaping the bonnet she wore on all sides. “Pasties at two pence,” she said as they approached.

“We’re looking for—” Orris started.

Abram let go of her for a moment. “We thought you might have some information,” he said, cutting Orris off and sliding a note across the counter of her makeshift stand.

She accepted the bill. “Information about what? Or is it ‘who’?” The woman coughed so aggressively, Abram thought she might lose consciousness.

“Who. We’re looking for a Grady Easton. Thought he may be one of your relations?”

Orris glanced between the two of them, her eyes wide and expectant. She did not speak, however.

“That is my brother,” she said. “You won’t find him outside in the daytime. He is likely sleeping off the drink from last night. He lives in whatever dive he passes out in. Just walk up and down the street and you’ll find him eventually. I last saw him at a place called ‘the Wharf’ near the docks. You might want to start there.”

“Thank you.” Abram passed another note over to her. She had done them a good turn, and he knew how hard it was to live in a world where the only way to earn respectability was through a coin purse.

“Do not say I sent you,” she called after them.

Abram gave her a wave before turning to walk away.

Orris did not pull away this time. He grabbed her hand and held on to it in an effort to ensure she did not get lost, or worse, snatched into the crowd. “Place your reticule on this side,” she said. He showed her how to position it between their bodies with his hand.

Thankfully, she did as he said without question. “Will you go to the docks tonight?”

“If I tell you, will you escape the ball and try to meet me there?” Bloody hell, he worried she would show up there next.

“Perhaps I won’t. That is if you promise to keep me apprised of the situation. If you do not, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.”

He knew she was trying to get a rise out of him the moment he glanced at her and saw the smirk on her lips. “Funny. You should consider a career in the theater.”

“I would, but sadly, my mama would disown me and I would find myself down here. The sad part is, I am not the best cook, so I don’t think I could make it on my own.”

“Do you believe this to be humorous?” Abram turned to face her, the frustration turning a bit more heated. No, he would need to make her understand. None of it was a game, and he worried she was treating it as such.

He grabbed her wrist, drawing in closer so she could hear him over the noise of industry. “I am fighting for my life and you are treating this as some sort of game. As if you were merely here for amusement. My friend is dead, Orris. I could have potentially stopped it, but I did not. I shall have to live with the knowledge forever. You, on the other hand, are merely trying to find something to do with your boring life in Mayfair. People are not your playthings. And it is time you realize that.”

“Look around you, Princess Orris,” he snapped. “These people are trying their hardest to feed their families. And while some of them had been reduced to criminality, it is no wonder since they could work all year and never be able to afford the dress on your back. So please…” He stopped for a moment, pulling away, aware he had likely gone too far. “I beg of you, please stop pretending to be a crusader for the right. At the moment, you seem to be losing the battle.”

Orris snatched away from him once he was done. “Abram, all I have ever done to you is like you. I made an effort to take up your cause. Instead, you stuck your fingers up my dress and ran off. Just like you ran away from your family.”

Orris walked away before returning again, her fist balled at her are side and wearing an even more venomous stare, as if that were even possible. “I have only ever tried to help you. And instead of being thankful for that, you lambast me for being born into privilege. The same privilege you were born into. I realize I have not traveled the world in an effort to bottle some kind of happiness, as if traveling, or having an occupation, or even walking down the street alone was something afforded to the fairer sex, but I am smart enough to know the kind of joy you seek only comes from within. I have never looked down on those who were not born into my circumstances. I shall not allow you to assign me the blame for what you failed to do for your friend.” Orris slapped the reticule against her side and pranced off, hands on her hips.

Her carriage was but a few yards away. She did not look back at him, even though he stood there waiting for her to do just that.

In that moment, Abram wanted to run to her. If he could have, he would have ridden back to her home and held her throughout the day and night, never leaving her side. Instead, he stood there watching her drive away. There was no way he would forget her. Not only because she was beautiful, but because she was the first person to hold him to account for his selfish behavior.

The pain in his side kicked up again. He rubbed at it absently. All in all, it was nothing compared to the ache he felt in his chest. What had stricken him most was how he had put her in a similar situation to the one his father had put Abram in. Limiting her. Treating her as if she had not choice in her own life. Yet it had to be done. To protect her.

There was one silver lining to her being so angry with him. He knew she would not likely go to the docks searching for Grady Easton. She was as angry as anyone could possibly be. He could tell by her fists she had held by her sides to keep from hitting him. She had a fiery temper and a determination he had yet to see in any other woman. He yearned to sit in her warmth, to caress her body, and bask in the glow of her sun.