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"Nope. I think that's it. As I said, I 'ave no idea where James Huntley put the black diamond or if 'e really cheated 'is partner. But I don't see why Bencroft would be callin' out to 'im if 'e 'ad."
"Thank you, Mr. Barnes." Aurora covered his wrinkled hand with her smooth one. "You've been very kind and helped us a great deal."
"Yes." Julian extracted some bills, peeled off a hefty amount, and placed it on the table before Barnes. "We appreciate your time and your insight."
Ignoring the pound notes, Barnes leaned toward Aurora, gingerly touching a strand of her hair that had escaped from the bonnet. "Keep yer money, Bencroft," he told Julian. "But be good to yer wife. She's a real beauty—and not only on the outside." His face creased into a grin. "'Er 'eart is in the right place. Yer great-grandfather would be real pleased with yer choice."
Julian nodded. "I think he would, too."
"Please, Mr. Barnes." Aurora pressed the notes into his palm. "For the peace you've afforded not only us, but our great-grandfathers—please take this. It will buy you food, ale … and a chance to fulfill any of the dreams you've yet to realize."
The elderly sailor's eyes grew damp. "When ye put it that way … all right. And God bless ye."
Julian led Aurora out of the tavern and into the night. "That was a lovely gesture, soleil," he said when they were alone. "The second one today, in fact. First, Emma, now Barnes." Tenderly he tucked her hair back into her bonnet. "Barnes was right. Your beauty transcends the mere physical. I'm indeed a lucky man."
"We're both lucky," Aurora amended. "You were as moved by Barnes and what he said, as I was. 'Twas no accident, that king's ransom you just left him."
"I won't deny being moved. It felt damned good to hear something commendable said about my great-grandfather—especially by a man who knew him personally. Still, from a more practical perspective, I'm not sure we learned anything of consequence."
"I suppose you're right." Aurora tipped back her head, frowning thoughtfully at her husband. "We already surmised Geoffrey's urgency to reach James before he died, presumably so together they could restore the black diamond to King George." A speculative pause.
"But…?" Julian prompted.
"But I have the nagging feeling we learned something more, something we have yet to discern. Maybe it's because Mr. Scollard guided us in this direction, and he never does that without having a specific purpose in mind. So why would he want us to find Mr. Barnes only to learn what we already knew? No, I suspect there's more to this than we've yet…"
"'Elp! Please 'elp me!" A smudged, scrawny boy of about eleven barreled down the path, nearly crashing into them in his haste. "Sir, ma'am, ye gotta 'elp me."
Aurora caught his flailing arms. "Help you? What's wrong?" She scrutinized the deserted path; then, seeing no one, she turned her attention back to the ragged urchin. "Is someone trying to hurt you?"
"No. It's me little sister. She's in that alley." He pointed. "She fell. She's bleedin' real bad. I can't get 'er to wake up. She's only four. Please…" He tugged at Aurora's sleeve. "Ye've gotta come."
"Where's your mother?" Julian demanded.
"'Ome. Takin' care of me dad. 'E's sick. I was supposed to get bread and watch me sister at the same time, to bring 'er 'ome safe. And now she's 'urt—bad. Please—'urry." The boy started back, gesturing frantically for them to follow.
"Julian, we've got to help him." Aurora had already gathered up her skirts to rush after the lad.
"Wait." Julian caught her arm, eyes narrowed on the deserted path and the remote alleyway entrance that seemed to disappear into nothingness. "I don't like this. He could be a thief or Lord knows what else. We need more information before we go tearing after…"
"We'll have to take that chance. I can't leave a four-year-old child in that horrible alley, alone and injured." Wrenching her arm free, Aurora sprinted off after the boy.
"Dammit." Julian shot after her, unwilling to let Aurora out of his sight—although his instincts screamed their conviction that this whole situation smelled rotten.
A minute later his suspicions were confirmed.
Rounding the alleyway entrance just behind his wife, Julian had scarcely taken a dozen strides when the lad—now twenty feet ahead—came to a screeching halt, spinning about to face them, an expectant look in his eyes.
There was no little sister.
In a rush Julian acted, grabbing for Aurora, simultaneously groping in his coat pocket for his pistol.
He never reached either.
Abruptly he was struck from behind, a sharp glancing blow between the shoulder blades that left him reeling. Before he could recover, he was shoved head-on against the brick wall. Reflexively his elbows came up to take the brunt of the impact, his ears ringing with Aurora's sharp cry of distress.
That sound was enough to supplant the pain lancing through his arms and back. Julian whipped about, only to see a glint of metal, feel the piercing point of a sword as it jabbed against his throat.
"At last, Merlin." The swarthy, venomous man at the other end of the sword was as familiar as his voice. "The day of reckoning has come."
