Page 65 of A Sham Engagement

The man with the cudgel held up his arms in front of his fellows. “She’s a right vixen. Let’er go. Tain’t worth riskin’ our lives over.” As the mood of the crowd deflated, Jack, Benjamin and Elenora’s brothers retreated out of the door and he slammed it shut behind them.

Peg and Rosie slid an ancient but still solid beam into place across the door.

Jack hesitated. There was still the matter of Warren’s body. However, the Wetherby brothers seemed to have that well in hand.

“Grab his legs, he’s heavier than he looks,” Jolyon said, indicating Warren’s body lying where they’d left it. “Can’t leave any evidence behind us.”

Matthew grabbed the legs and the two young men heaved the inert mass to the edge of the wharf.

“Tide’s out, damn it,” Jolyon grunted.

“I told you it was before. Chuck him onto the mud,” Ivy snapped. “Tide’ll be in before long and roll him down to the sea if we’re lucky. Now, stop dawdlin’ and run.”

Elenora ran, aware that beside her Jack had hold of Edward’s hand again and the child was running between him and Ivy, his little legs pounding through the darkness and the mud. Fog swarmed in all around them, damp and cold and cloying in her straining lungs, bringing with it the stench of soot and dirt and the filthy waters of the Thames.

They ran for what seemed like forever, her feet slamming against uneven cobbles or splashing through mud and other liquids she didn’t want to discover. The soaked skirt of her gown flapped cold against her legs and moisture formed on the wool of her pelisse.

“I can’t run anymore,” Edward gasped before long. Jack sheathed his sword in its camouflaging stick and scooped him up in his arms, and they ran on, keeping as silent as they could, only the sound of their breathing rasping in the cloaking fog. At least that might stop anyone pursuing them. Or at any rate, finding them in it.

Ivy, who was leading the way now, led them through a winding maze of narrow, dirty alleyways and streets. They passed through shadowy courtyards overhung with tumbledown buildings and lines of smut-covered washing, where scarcely any light showed from filthy windows.

Elenora, whose sense of direction had been thrown akimbo early on, had no way of telling which way they were going until, at last, they emerged as if from a nightmare, onto a street whose lamps made it seem like daylight after the dark gloom of the slums. Fog still clouded the street, but it was not a slum, there being decent, red-brick houses in a row, their faces calm and welcoming. Not yet the streets Elenora knew as home, but nearer to Betterton Street in form.

“This way,” Ivy said.

Although he was now carrying Edward, Jack still had the swordstick in his hand, and both her brothers still gripped their pistols. They might be out of the slums, but that didn’t make them safe. Hadn’t Mama told her often enough that the streets of London, wherever you were, could not be considered safe after dark? And it must be getting late now.

Twenty minutes hurried walking brought their party back to Betterton Street, but it appeared they were not going in. Jack set a sleepy Edward on his feet. “You girls and Benjamin go in. I have you all to thank for tonight, for fetching Elenora’s brothers with their pistols. I couldn’t have done this alone, even though I thought I could.” His gaze slid to Elenora. “You are all very brave.”

The girls exchanged glances. “It were nothin’ compared wiv what you’ve done fer us,” Ivy said. “Otherwise, it’d have bin us you’d have seen in that warehouse, sleepin’ rough, sellin’ ourselves for the price of a meat pie.”

Peg and Rosie nodded. Had any of them been forced to do that in their past? Before Jack had rescued them? And what about all the other girls still in that position? Elenora shuddered.

“Will you be safe, milord?” Ivy asked. “We can come back wiv you if you needs us to? Or Benjamin can.”

The look on that young man’s face said that he’d had enough of escorting nobs about the dangerous backstreets of London.

Jack shook his head. “Elenora and I have her brothers to see us home. Have no fear. Although your knives would be a handy addition to our munition. You’ve seen us out of the Devil’s Acre and that’s all you needed to do. I have my sword and I’ll give Elenora back her pistol, just in case, and her brothers are armed to the teeth. We’ll be safe. You’d best go inside and explain to Mrs. Sharpe where you’ve all been.” A smile lit his face. “My brave soldier girls.”

“I’m cold,” Edward said.

Ivy had her shawl off in a moment and was wrapping it around his shoulders. “There, my little lord, that should keep you warm till you gets home and into your bed.” She dropped a kiss on his curly head.

Edward smiled and made a little bow. “Thank you, miss.”

The girls went inside, not without noticeably longing looks at Jolyon and Matthew, who seemed to appreciate their attention, and Jack scooped up Edward again. “Back to Portland Place.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Portland Place had never looked so welcoming, although rather worryingly a carriage stood in the street outside, the driver’s shoulders draped in a thick blanket against the cold. A wave of relief that they’d made it back unmolested washed over Elenora as they approached the front doors. As if their return had been foreseen, these doors swung open and Alcock appeared, haloed in bright light but managing, nevertheless, to look very harassed. As well he might. Behind him loomed the unmistakably upright figure of Lady Amberley, her expression heavy with approbation.

Oh no. Not Jack’s mother. What on earth was she doing here at this time of night? But Elenora had met more intimidating people tonight than she’d ever imagined possible, and even though she no longer required a pistol to deal with this one, determination rose in her heart. Whatever Lady Amberley had to say, she could face it. She tucked the aforesaid pistol away in her reticule, in case Lady Amberley might think she intended to shoot her with it.

Jack stood back and allowed Elenora to pass inside in front of him, then carried Edward into the wide front hallway. Jolyon and Matthew, sober-faced now, probably at the sight of Lady Amberley’s expression, sidled in behind them, keeping well back as though afraid of entering the line of fire. Their pistols had also vanished into some inner pockets of their great coats.

“My lord! Miss Wetherby.” Alcock’s voice held a mixture of the same relief Elenora felt and a strong degree of remonstration. A little more than one would expect from a butler, but then, he’d probably had an extremely trying evening.

A further reason for his discomfiture emerged from the door on the right hand side. A portly man in a slightly shabby blue coat and carrying a walking stick emerged, his unusual white top hat tucked under his arm. Behind him followed four more fellows, all in drab navy blue uniforms from top to toe, apart from their black boots and hats. Elenora needed no telling that these were the Bow Street Runners Jack had sent for before their departure.