He hurried out of the Fox, but he didn't go home.His feet carried him toward the Hasting residence, not with a plan, not with the right words—just the pull of his need for the woman he loved.
The street was dark when he arrived, the house quiet.Most of the windows were black.He stood on the pavement across the road and stared up at her window.He was about to climb the lattice, when a figure slipped out the servants' entrance at the side of the house.
Wesley pressed himself against the iron railing behind him.The figure, dressed like a man and small in stature, moved through the garden and out the gate.Thea.She turned up the street without looking back.
His first instinct was to chase after her.To grab her arm and demand to know what the hell she thought she was doing, sneaking out alone after everything that had happened between them.
He didn't.He'd tried demands already.He knew where that had led.
Instead, he followed.
She moved through the streets with a sureness that told him she'd done this countless times.She knew this route and she walked it without fear.Wesley had to lengthen his stride to keep her in sight, while staying far enough behind that she wouldn't hear his footsteps.
But she didn't go to the Fox.He'd expected her to turn east toward the gaming hell, but instead she kept south, moving into a part of London that was respectable but modest—the kind of neighborhood where second sons rented rooms and merchants' widows kept small households.Not dangerous, but not the sort of place a lady of the ton had any business visiting at this hour.
Thea stopped before a narrow townhome on a quiet street.A lamp burned in the ground-floor window.She knocked—two quick raps and a pause, then a third—and the door opened.Warm light spilled out, and a voice said something Wesley couldn't hear.He couldn’t even make out if it was male or female.
Then Thea stepped inside, and the door closed behind her.
Wesley stood in the dark across the street.He didn’t know what she was playing at.What on earth could possibly have her in this part of town entering a strange house.His mind raced with all of the possibilities, and he didn’t like any of them.
He kept watching for another ten minutes, and then he couldn’t stand it any longer.
Unable to stop himself or think better of it, he approached the door.He pushed it open and stepped into a narrow front hall lit by a sconce.The house was warm and clean, spare in its furnishings but well-kept.Voices came from deeper inside—women's voices, and beneath them, the sound of a child fussing.
“Hello?”he called out.
A woman appeared from a doorway to his left.The moment she saw him her expression went from surprise to alarm.She stepped in front of the doorway, and behind her, he could see a woman with a bruised and beaten face.There were two children sitting at a table nearby.Something was wrong here.
“Who are you?”Her voice was hard.“How did you get in?”
The protectiveness in her posture made him take a couple steps back.Whatever he might have thought Thea had gotten herself into, this wasn’t it.
“I'm not here to cause harm.”Other than to whomever had abused the woman.He might like to give that person a good thrashing.He raised both hands and took another step back for good measure.“I followed someone here.A woman.She came in just a moment ago.”
The dark-haired woman didn't move.Her gaze stayed fixed on him.
“Betsy.”Thea's voice came from behind her.“It's all right.I know him.”
Chapter 9
Thea
AssoonasTheaentered the house, she was greeted with a new arrival to the shelter.Thea sat with the woman—Mary—at the long table in the front room, while Betsy settled the woman’s children with blankets and warm milk.Mary's left eye was swollen shut.Her lip had been split and was crusted over.She held her hands in her lap, fingers laced tight, flinching at every sound, afraid her husband would appear at any moment and drag her back.
“You're safe here.”Thea kept her voice low and even.“No one knows where you are.”
Mary didn't look convinced.She wouldn't be, not yet.It took days, sometimes weeks and months, before the women recovered from the abuse they’d suffered.
Betsy ran the shelter, taking in all women and children in need.Mary and her children were her latest arrivals, and Betsy would have them safely out of London in a few days.
Thea and Mary looked up as Betsy returned from the back room and took over, pulling a chair up beside Mary and laying a hand on her arm.This was Betsy's life work—the schedules, the safe houses, the network of discreet contacts who helped women start a new life.Thea's role was simpler.She provided what funds she could to ensure Betsy could keep the shelter going.
A few other ladies of the ton and their husbands also helped in secret.The shelter and its location had to remain confidential or else their horrid husbands would show up looking for their wives.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.”Betsy focused on Thea.“And you’ve certainly looked better.”
Thea had been in a miserable state all day.It was why she decided to come to here tonight.She couldn’t sit in her bedchamber any longer.
