Page 16 of The Thorn and the Rose

“For the love of God, Pip. Get me out of here before I go out of my bloody mind!”

Pip sighed and folded his arms. “You promised Mother…”

“Oh, of course I did, because she would have kept crying if I hadn’t, but you can see I’m perfectly well. Look, I’m dressed and shaved and ready to go. Lord, Pip, how can you have a meeting of the Sons without me?”

Pip rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt you. As it happens, the parents are out. They’ve taken Tilly down to Dern for the day and won’t be back until late.”

“To visit Pippin?” Thorn guessed with a grin. “And you didn’t go,” he added with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare call me a coward! I would have gone, but this meeting is important, and I promised Mother I’d keep an eye on you,” Pip retorted.

“And so you shall, all the way to Portman Square and back again,” Thorn said, heading for the door.

“Fine,” Pip groused, following him out. “But you are not to drink or smoke and don’t even think about—”

“Oh, shut up,” Thorn said cheerfully, hurrying down the stairs.

14th June 1845, The Sons of Hades, Portman Square, London.

“Lyall sends his regrets, but Muir and I represent him, aye,” Hamilton said, sitting down around the long table as his brother pulled out a chair beside his.

Thorn too settled himself down in a chair, relieved to be out of the house and to have something other than endless and pointless questions about Marie circling his brain at all hours of the day and night. He looked around at the familiar faces. Leo had taken charge of things as usual, and Ashton was glowering at Thorn from across the table. The man seemed to blame himself for the beating Thorn had received and took his fading bruises as a personal affront. They were barely even visible now, but Ash’s golden skin had paled dramatically upon seeing him and he would not be shaken of the belief he could have stopped it. Likely he could have, if he’d been there, it was true. Thorn and Ash against the three bastards that had done him over would have been far better odds. But Ash had stayed on at the club instead of walking back with him that night. Of course, they had not realised then any of them needed a bodyguard, so in Thorn’s opinion it was foolish to make a fuss about it.

Hart arrived last, as usual. He looked as if he’d been dragged through a bush and would far rather return to whatever he’d been doing in it.

“Well, get on with it. Some of us have got work to do,” he said, pulling a chair out and sitting down.

Leo and Hart exchanged their usual insults as Hart surveyed the table, his gaze resting on Thorn.

“Well, you don’t look any the worse for wear. Are you well, Thorn?”

“Fit as a flea,” Thorn remarked with a grin, though he could feel Pip’s eyes upon him and rather resented it. He might need a bodyguard, but he didn’t need a damned babysitter.

The meeting proceeded, with Leo demanding the list of suspects he had asked everyone to make. There were a few names that appeared on several lists, and rather more names than any of them had anticipated, but none that stuck out as being potential threats to their lives.

Thorn was dismayed to hear that Muir thought he’d been followed home and made sure to pull the fellow aside once the meeting was over.

“You can’t go about alone, you blithering idiot,” he said frankly. “I was damned lucky, and I wouldn’t wish the beating I had on anyone. Well, apart from the fellow responsible for it.”

Muir grimaced. “Aye, ye are nae the only person to tell me so. I will nae do so again, ye have my word, but it’s a damned mucky business. I dinnae like it one bit.”

“You think I do? But there were three of them to one of me, and next time I’ll have the odds evened out. I’m all for a fair fight, but not for getting my head kicked in while two great brutes hold me still.”

“And what about your guardian angel?” Muir asked with a wink.

Thorn shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “No idea. Up and vanished. A shame, though. Prettiest little thing I ever saw,” he added with an insouciant grin, and walked quickly away, not wishing to discuss Marie any further.

Whenever he thought of her, he was struck by a sense of regret, of an opportunity missed that he would never have again. Well, damn that. If she really had been playing him for a fool, he was well rid of her. Yet there was a stubborn part of him that would not let the memory of her go: those glinting hazel eyes and the proud, slender figure that seemed shrouded in sadness.

He would find her, he promised himself, and whether she was an angel or a something else entirely, he would figure her out. Once and for all.

15th August 1845, Near Trevick House, Trevick, Warwickshire.

When Leo had invited Thorn and Muir to take their curricles for a jaunt up to Warwickshire with him, they’d been quick to accept. Muir had been on his way back to Scotland anyway as his older brother, Lyall, was getting married. So, he agreed to go with them as far as Warwick and then carry on home.

Thorn had been bored to death and whilst the trouble surrounding the club seemed to have died off somewhat—probably because of their heightened security—none of them could be at ease in town. So, they left the club under the surveillance of the guards they’d employed via Gabriel Knight and vacated the city. London in August was not the place to be in any case. Usually this was because stench of the Thames permeated far and wide as the temperature rose. This year the weather was appalling, wet and miserable, and the streets filled with mud and muck, which was equally awful. Thorn had had enough and was eager for a change of scene and something to occupy his mind.

“Will we call at Trevick while we’re here?” Thorn asked, draining the glass of beer he’d been drinking and setting the empty glass down on the table. The inn they’d stopped at was busy at lunchtime, with eager patrons wanting to get out of the damp drizzle that settled over everything and made you feel thoroughly miserable.