Chapter Twenty-Six
Thursday, 21 July 1825
Campion’s Gentlemen’s Emporium
Six in the morning
Timothy stirred inhis sleep, and Eloise jerked awake. She’d dozed off in the chair next to the bed, and now she squirmed and stretched, every muscle achy and cramped. Timothy’s breathing changed, and she waited as he slowly came back to consciousness.
They had arrived back at the emporium, and Gilley had locked the door from the inside after setting an extra guard at the end of the alley. He then left them in the bedchamber, where Eloise had hoped Timothy could rest before they returned to the Pentney home in the morning.
But within ten minutes, Lucy and Ophelia had arrived with a bathtub, clean clothes for Timothy—including a nightshirt, topcoat, cravat, and silk shirt—and a tray of sandwiches and tea for all of them. As they ate, servants from the women’s side brought over buckets of steaming water for the tub. After the feast, the women waited in the office as Timothy bathed, then Ophelia produced a salve for the burn. Then Timothy had dropped off, a cup of tea almost slipping from his hand. Eloise had grabbed it and helped him into bed.
Curled on his side, his blond curls limp against his forehead, he looked like a young boy again. But she had seen the distant look in his eyes, heard the gravel in his voice. She fought a deep anger that craved revenge on the men who had done this to him, who had aged him. She knew the most she could hope for was justice, possibly due to the raid last night, but doubted she would ever hear the outcome unless it showed up inThe Morning Chronicle.
She rubbed her eyes, trying to force tears to cleanse away the sleep granules crusting the edges of her lids. When she dropped her hands away, Timothy stared at her. “Good morning,” she whispered.
“I thought it might be a dream. But you are here.”
“I am.”
“And we are truly in a private room at Campion’s Gentlemen’s Emporium.”
“We are.”
“And that man was Lord Rob...?”
“Lord Robert Ashton. He works here as Robbie Green.”
“The floor manager?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know where I...?”
“That was Lord Robert. Because of his work here, he knew of those men. Since you seemed to have vanished from here, he thought he could track them, find them.”
“So you were not cozening me with all you said last night.”
“No.”
He turned his face more into the pillow, and his eyes went to that distant stare again. Eloise waited, merely watching him as the minutes passed.
“Ellie?”
“Yes?”
His eyes focused on her face. “I know.”
She stilled.He could not.But the icy chill that spread out from the base of her spine, through her gut, and up into her skull told her otherwise. She forced her voice to remain even. “You know what?”
“That you are not my sister.”
Her breath caught. “Timothy—”
“I overheard Papa—the earl and the countess—talking one night when they did not think I was awake. I heard their concerns that you and I were too close. That you might ‘reveal too much.’ That’s why they have been planning for you to go to Aunt Cynthia’s. Why they sent me to Eton so early.” His voice rose, and Eloise both understood but needed to breach his anger.
“Timothy. First of all, Papa is your father by law if not by birth. Second, I’m moving to Aunt Cynthia’s because I am a spinster who will only become a burden to both my parents if I continue to stay in London. That would have been my due no matter what. Finally, we are so close because... because I’m weak, and I could not stay away from you. And Papa did not have the heart to send me away when you were a child.”
