Behind him came uniformed men, Bow Street runners by the cut of them, faces set, businesslike, unquestioning.
Marcus turned only long enough to speak.
“He’s alive,” he said evenly. “Bound. And he answers for more than tonight.”
He drew the small metal piece from his coat and placed it in the nearest officer’s hand.
“You’ll want that,” Marcus added. “It’s an axle pin. It didn’t fail on its own.”
The man’s expression tightened. He nodded once.
“Lord Wolfton.”
Marcus inclined his head. Nothing more.
He bent, retrieved the dagger, and tucked it into his coat. Then he offered his hand.
She took it without hesitation.
They stepped over Fenwick’s unconscious form and toward the stairs.
Two silhouettes moving side by side into the night air.
Not rescuer and rescued. Not protector and protected.
Partners.
Chapter Forty
They left beforeFenwick stirred.
Marcus untied the horse where he had hidden it and helped Lila into the saddle. She was not fragile. She was not trembling. But the rush had ebbed, leaving a fine persistent tremor she tried and failed to conceal. Marcus shifted without comment and drew her back against his chest.
“Lean on me,” he murmured.
“I’m steady.”
“I know,” he said. “Lean anyway.”
She did.
Her back settled fully against his chest, the line of him solid and warm, his breath steady at her temple. The horse adjusted beneath them, and Marcus’s arm tightened just enough to sayI have you.
For the first time since the carriage doors had closed on her, the ground beneath her felt certain again. And Marcus’s arm around her made it steadier still.
The night air tasted cold and metallic as they turned into the narrow lane. The city thinned to fragments. A drunk singing a broken ballad. The distant roll of carriage wheels. A dog barking in some unseen courtyard.
Marcus rode toward the main road. He did not rush. He kept an even, deliberate pace.
“He wanted you,” she said after a long moment. “Not me.”
Marcus exhaled through his nose. “He wanted revenge. He chose you because he believed you were the way to hurt me.”
Her voice barely lifted. “Was he wrong?”
He did not answer at once.
She turned, the lantern light catching the shadows beneath his jaw, the tightness around his eyes, the bruise darkening near his temple.
