AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Again, Jacqueline felt his upset as an almost tangible thing. Despite her own fears, she grasped his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “All will be well. I’ll help you explain—”
His blue eyes finally found hers. “He already knows. I sent him a message last night and told him everything—with the exception of the Archangel’s involvement. As far as Gonson knows, the school is just a charity that takes in abandoned girls.” He nodded at Tavistoke. “And he’s merely its co-founder and your friend, which explains his interest.”
Dropping her voice to a whisper, she spoke through the fear that threatened to paralyze her—fear not for herself, but for the good man who’d helped her and so many others. “But you pretended to be the Archangel to lure her out. And have you forgotten that the true Archangel revealed himself in front of that Fergus fellow?”
“I’ll tell Gonson it was all part of the ruse—he’ll believe me,” assured Will. “I told him about Boucher’s letter demanding the Archangel’s name and explained that she thought you knew his identity because a child she’d sold to a client had escaped and been brought to you. Under those circumstances, my impersonating the man to draw her out was perfectly logical. As for Tavistoke claiming the title, we’ll say he did it only to save us and buy time until help could arrive. You did expunge all evidence of his involvement from the girls’ files?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then there is no need for concern. Your friend is safe—as long as the girls keep the secret and he lies low from now on,” he added, shooting the other man a meaningful glance.
Tavistoke acquiesced with a sober nod, and murmured, “You may consider the Archangel unofficially retired.” His manner calm and assured, he then addressed her. “With Boucher dead, her top man in custody, and The Nest being raided as we speak, the need for such a personage is greatly lessened.” Again, his gaze moved to Will. “And now that Westminster has established a special constabulary, London has a means to fight back if anyone should attempt to follow Boucher’s example.”
Will’s chin rose. “Indeed, it does.”
“Danbury?” One of the men who’d been helping clear the bodies walked up and clasped Will’s uninjured arm. “Glad to see you alive and well. I’ve sent for the coroner to meet us at the slaughterhouse.”
“Good, then that’s where we should go now,” answered Will. “Jacqueline? I must speak with my superiors, but you and I need to discuss—”
“There will be plenty of time for that later,” she interrupted, glancing nervously at her benefactor and the men now joining them. “Right now, your arm needs a physician’s care, and there are other, more pressing matters.” She met his eyes. “Please.”
For a moment, she thought he might object, but then he nodded. “Very well.”
As he turned to beckon his fellows, she caught Tavistoke’s piercing look. Ignoring it, she followed Will.
The slaughterhouse was like an anthill that had been kicked. Men were everywhere, all of whom appeared to know Will. Friendly greetings and congratulations were called out as they passed, and more than one man came over to shake his hand and offer to buy him a celebratory pint later that night.
At the center of the storm stood a portly man in a fine suit of clothes. “Danbury!” he boomed on seeing them. “Excellent work. Pity you had to shoot Boucher, but we have her man. That Fergus fellow is already singing like a bird in the hope of avoiding the noose.” His eyes glinted as they fell on her and Tavistoke. “But please, introduce me to your friends.”
Jacqueline couldn’t help trembling inside as Will did so and proceeded to coolly explain their part in the event. The tension that should have bled away as Sir Gonson appeared to accept his story didn’t, and she realized it was more than concern for Tavistoke and herself that made her so uneasy.
This was Will’s world. He’d clearly known and worked with many of these people for a long time. How easy his manner had become, how comfortable he was amongst them! They treated one another almost like extended family.
Family.
Dread cast its shadow over her like a funeral pall, and in its darkness Jacqueline tasted such bitterness as rivaled any she’d ever known. Being beaten to within an inch of her life had been easier to endure than the pain that squeezed her heart now.
He was lost to her. Utterly. Even if the wife and children he’d told Boucher about were indeed fictitious, still she could not dare to hope for herself. The words he’d spoken echoed inside her mind.
Creature.
Harlot.
Whore.
He deserved to marry a woman of good name and irreproachable virtue who could do him honor and bear him children.
“Jacqueline?”
Flinching, she looked up at Will with chagrin, and realized Sir Gonson and Tavistoke had gone. They were several paces away, talking quietly. “Forgive me—I-I fear I became lost in my own thoughts. I did not mean to be rude to your superior.”
“You were not. I asked him to give us a moment of privacy.” His blue eyes shone with remorse. “The things I said today in that alley—you know I meant none of it—not one word. I beg you to forgive me for saying them. I had to convince her—to buy time so I could reposition before firing. I was afraid of hitting you… I love you, Jacqueline,” he said fiercely. “More than life itself. Please say I have not committed an irreparable offense?”
Tears stung her eyes. Unashamed, she let them fall as she laid her head against his shoulder. “There is nothing to forgive,” she choked out, holding him tight. The pain in her heart eased as his uninjured arm came up around her, but only a little. This was temporary, ephemeral. He loved her, but it could not last.
“My God, if anything had gone wrong, if I’d lost you…” He buried his face in the curve of her neck. “I don’t ever want to lose you.” Leaning back, he fixed her with his deep blue gaze. “Say you’ll marry me, Mademoiselle Trouvère, and become my Mrs. Danbury.”
Though her heart leaped for a brief instant, Jacqueline maintained self-discipline. “But what of your work with Sir Gonson? What of my past? And…” She hesitated and lowered her voice. “What of children? Do you truly mean to give up all hope of fatherhood?”
