Page 22 of The Thorn and the Rose

Thorn straightened and hurried towards the slim figure dressed in a severe dark blue gown. A large man escorting a less than respectable lady wearing a preposterous hat blocked his view of her and, by the time Thorn had hurried past them, the figure had disappeared again.

Thorn turned in a circle as he continued to move forward to where the figure had been. Where the hell had she gone? Surely, she would have waited a few minutes longer?

“Mr Barry.”

He swung around so fast he startled her, and with a slight gasp, she took a step backwards.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed with relief, swiping the hat from his head. “I beg your pardon. I only received your note moments ago and… and I’m so sorry I was late.”

Thorn stared at her, drinking in the sight of her. Only in this moment did he realise how much he’d wanted to see her again. He did not know if she was guilty of the things his family believed she had done; he suspected she was, and yet he had to see her, to know her, to figure her out. No matter if she was leading him into danger.

Her bonnet, a stylish if simple affair in the same dark blue silk as her gown, shadowed much of her face, making her expression hard to read. Her gown had a high neck, but she had added a plain silk scarf that wound about her throat too. The ensemble was as sombre as the rest of her attire and certainly rather out of fashion. Thorn wondered if that was her brother’s doing or her own choice. The only slightly frivolous aspect in her toilette was a little knot of ribbons on the left side of the bonnet, with a lighter blue silk flower at the centre. The rather severe outfit did nothing to detract from her beauty, though, from the trim waist and flare of generous hips to the delicate pink lips that she licked nervously.

“I thought perhaps you would not come,” she admitted.

“Of course I came,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “I will always come if you need me.”

She stared at his hand but did not take it, instead lacing her fingers together, clearly agitated.

“You are well?” he asked urgently, promising himself the pleasure of murdering her brother if she was not. “He… your brother, he didn’t…?”

“I am quite well, Mr Barry, thank you. My brother has not harmed me. I promised you he would not, I believe.”

Her voice was calm enough, though her tangled fingers suggested she was not so serene as she sounded. He forbore to remind her that her letter had given him cause to fear for her safety, for now at least, too afraid she would bolt if he pushed her. The clouds had parted, and sunlight slanted across her face, showing him her eyes. She might be outwardly placid, but there was something in those hazel depths that spoke of barely contained panic.

“We cannot talk here,” Thorn said, far too aware of the chances they would be seen together.

He did not know if she had acquaintances in town, but her reputation would be damaged if she was seen alone with him in such a place. Why she had suggested Covent Garden, he could not fathom, for it was hardly a place for a respectable lady, certainly not alone. Pip’s suspicious demand to know why a respectable woman had been out alone the night she’d found him rang unpleasantly in his ears. Her being there had certainly not been an accident.

“Shall we take a little walk?” he suggested.

Marie nodded but declined to take his arm, so they walked side by side, with Thorn doing his best to protect her from the bustle of the marketplace. As they walked, he glanced down at her, interested to note that her eyes were on stalks, taking in the vibrant and chaotic scene around them. She had never been here before. He felt certain of that much and remembered his conviction that she must be a country girl with little experience of the city. The way she started at the raucous shouts and banter that went hand in hand with such a place only confirmed his suspicions. Perhaps that was why she had suggested Covent Garden. Perhaps she had heard the name and really believed St Paul's was a pretty little church on the edge of a lovely garden.

He led her down Bow Street, racking his brain for somewhere peaceful they could talk. Most of the ton had left London by now, so a walk in the park at Lincoln’s Inn Fields would be unexceptional, so long as it did not have the air of an illicit rendezvous.

She said nothing as they walked, apparently trusting him to lead her, and Thorn darted glances at her, wondering what was going on in her mind. They were close to the park when he decided he had better try to get her to speak.

“The letter you sent me made me afraid for you,” he said quietly. “You sounded terrified.”

“That letter ought never to have been sent,” she said, turning her face away from him. “I am sorry if it worried you. There was no cause for alarm. I am afraid it… it was sent in a fit of pique with my brother. I beg your pardon for the trouble it caused.”

Thorn paused and took her arm, settling her hand upon his sleeve. “I’m glad you sent it, whatever the reason. I am so glad to see you again, Marie. I have thought of you so often and wondered how you were. Where you were.”

She flushed and turned away from him. “I suppose you went back to the house to look for me.”

“My brother did, with our mother. You weren’t there, and apparently never had been.”

“What must you think of me?” she said, such a despairing note to the words that he covered the hand on his arm with his own.

“I think you are in trouble and in need of help. I think your brother is using you for his own ends. Tell me how I may serve you, Marie?”

She withdrew her hand and walked on, faster now, and Thorn hurried after her.

“Marie?”

“You should go,” she said, her voice terse. “You cannot help me. If you persist… Oh, Mr Barry… do yourself a very great favour and go away.”

There was a catch in her voice and Thorn caught her arm again, forcing her to stop.