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“Steady.” Keeping one hand firmly on his own reins, Simon reached for Isla’s arm. “If you wish to dismount, you need only ask and I will assist you.”

“I want to,” she repeated, this time with more urgency.

“Very well.” Thanking all the saints that Blaze had chosen to remain unruffled, he slid from his saddle. “Anson,” he called. “Take the reins, would you?”

His obedient servant edged his mount close enough to grasp the straps, and Simon lifted Isla from her saddle and onto her feet.

“Are you well?” he asked, searching her face for any sign of illness. Her complexion was a becoming and healthy shade, but she was clearly distressed.

“I am fine, but that little girl is not.” She pointed to the other side of the road, where a child who looked to be similar in age to Will and Sam was lying in the dirt at the entrance to one of the alleys. “I noticed her when she was a little way off because her steps were so unsteady. But then she collapsed.” She caught hold of his arm. “We must go to her, Simon. She is obviously alone and in need of help.”

Simon stood completely still. From his position behind Stormy, he could clearly see the child’s ragged clothing and tangled hair, but his gaze glossed over those things to settle on the girl’s hands. Blackened skin tipped every finger. “No, Isla.”

She swung around, shock shining in her eyes. “No?”

“No.” He reached for her, but she backed away.

“Is it because she is poor?”

“Of course not.” Alarm consumed him. They had to leave. Now. “The child has the plague.”

“The plague!” Isla stared at him. “How can you possibly know that?”

“She has blackened fingers, her neck is swollen, and she appears to be feverish.”

Isla looked across the street once more, and when she turned back to him, her eyes were filled with tears. “But she’s only a child.”

“I know.” The anguish on her face cut him to his core.

“Can we truly do nothing for her?”

He did not answer her question. He could not bring himself to tell her that with such evident symptoms, the child would likely be dead by nightfall.

“Come,” he said. “We must leave here immediately.”

She was openly weeping now, but she offered no resistance when he lifted her back into the saddle.

“Can you manage?” he asked softly.

She nodded mutely.

“Once we are away from here, we shall stop again,” he promised. She nodded again, and he leaped into his saddle. “Make haste, Anson,” he said, reclaiming his reins. “We must put some distance between us and this place.”

When Simon saw the tops of the trees signaling the edge of St. James’s Park, he veered off the road and onto the grass that surrounded the royal estate. Isla followed his lead, her mount remaining at Blaze’s side as they approached the fringes of the park. Without an invitation from the king, they could not go beyond the first line of trees, but the solid oaks would offer Isla the privacy she deserved to grieve for the little girl she did not know.

A quick glance over his shoulder reassured Simon that Anson was near. He brought Blaze to a stop and dismounted. Then he reached for Isla. Wordlessly, she set her hands on his shoulders, and he lifted her off Stormy’s back.

“I am leaving the horses in your care, Anson,” he said. “Miss Crawford needs a moment to recover her equilibrium. I daresay our mounts will be glad of the opportunity to graze.”

“Of course, my lord.” Anson had dismounted and was already gathering the various straps.

Taking Isla by the hand, Simon led her to a break in the trees. There he stopped and met her sorrow-filled eyes. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Her lips quivered. “You had nothing to do with the little girl contracting the plague and everything to do with protecting me from the illness.”

“I should not have taken you out. I knew full well that the city has been overrun with the disease. It is the very reason I escaped to Copfield Hall.”

“You told me as much, but I didn’t think . . .” Her voice broke. “I didn’t think I would actually see . . .” She covered her face with her hands. “She was so young.”