‘What if something happens? What if I’m hurt or stolen, or worse, what if I’m discovered and returned home where my parents will believe me ruined? I couldn’t bear their shame or disappointment. I thought I could manage it. I planned and prepared, but the truth persists my parents have been through too much already. With Crispin gone and no word for months, we don’t know if he remains secluded in England or has left for the continent. Mother cries every day. My father lives in a perpetual state of stony discontent. I could never add to their misery by bringing trouble to the doorstep, even if my goal seeks to ease their misery. I’m so sorry, Gemma.’
‘But I thought you sought information. That Crispin was last seen at the hell and Vivienne would gain us entry.’ Gemma didn’t know which emotion to settle upon, disappointment, anger, or a portion of both. She carried her own guilt at manipulating Nan and disregarding her brother’s rules.
‘Against my advisement, Vivienne told her husband of our idea. She seems a completely different type of friend now that she’s married. For some odd reason, she refuses to keep anything from her husband. Sinclair insisted Vivienne tell me not to come. Still, now that I see you in disguise, I believe you might go undetected. I did not send you a message because I didn’t want to ruin your plans with my cowardice. Please know I will uphold my half of our bargain even if you decide not to venture into the Underworld.’
‘No, I understand.’ Gemma shuffled her boots against the floor, not wishing to cause her friend further distress. ‘I appreciate that you kept to our arrangement even though you won’t be joining me inside.’ She leaned across and grasped one of Sophie’s bare hands. ‘And I know your brother will come home safely. I can feel it in my soul, just as I’m positive something needs to be discovered concerning my father’s death.’
The solemn vow lent a grave silence to their ride and Gemma considered Sophie’s earnest despair. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who truly cared for one’s welfare, not just as a responsibility, but because of the emotional attachment? It was times like this when she missed her mother dearly. Someday she hoped to find a good man, a husband who would love and cherish her above all other matters in life.
It was a good thing when Sophie broke the quiet. ‘Turn up the lamp.’ She gestured towards the brass fixture closest to Gemma. ‘I want to see you in your new menswear.’
Sophie let out an appreciative squeal as lamplight flooded the interior.
‘Your clothes are ideal, but you are too pretty to be a boy. If anyone looks closely they will know straight away.’ Her friend’s attention traced over her face, dropped to her bosom and finally arched a brow at assessment of her hips.
‘Do you think so?’ Gemma refused to accept it as true. She was determined to get into the hell and fulfil her half of the bargain. Being perceived as a young man was vital.
‘I suppose you’re going to find out, aren’t you?’
The carriage rolled to a stop and the driver opened the door at Sophie’s command. ‘James is the very best driver. He knows how important it is to keep a secret.’ She fluttered her eyelashes at the man in blatant flirtation though she’d spoken as if the servant needed no reminder.
‘I’ll return in an hour. Until then we will circle the city and exercise the horses. Don’t be late. I have it all planned so I can return you home and me to Daventry House with Mother and Father none the wiser.’
‘I promise.’ Gemma nodded to cement the vow. ‘I won’t let you down.’
Then she slipped into the darkness, her dark clothing just the thing.
Cole closed the ledger on his desk and claimed his cap from the hook by the door. He’d stared at numbers for over an hour with little progress. his mind distracted and body restless, though for the life of him he couldn’t determine why. Earlier in the day, when he’d gone to visit Maggie, he’d hoped their conversation would settle his unrest. Concentrating on their combined effort to aid the forgotten children of the streets often realigned his priorities whenever he seemed adrift. But with her out of house he’d chased a thief and met a breathtakingly beautiful lady instead. A woman whose presence reminded him of his origin, the darkness of his soul best kept smothered. She reminded how much remained impossibly unattainable.
The lady remained clear in his mind. Long blonde hair, jade-green eyes and the kind of smile that must cause every gentleman to fall in love. Yet he wasn’t so foolish to be taken in by Lady Amberson’s charms. She remained a curiosity, nothing more. Women of her ilk were above him. Mayhap he should have mentioned the surname to Max Sinclair earlier. Sin would know where in the order of things this lady belonged and banish all convoluted attention. Cole’s life and history contained strict parameters. Refined ladies were not interested in a by-blow whose past contained a long list of shameful activity, the grime of the street forever ingrained in his pores. In that, an immeasurable chasm separated his kind from the jewels of the ton.
Not that it mattered, he reminded himself. Not that it made one iota of difference. He’d never yearned for what lurked beyond his grasp and he wouldn’t start now because a pair of glittering green eyes had caught his attention. Love, that elusive and fickle emotion, was better left alone.
Jamming his cap down a little too hard, he left the Underworld by way of the side door, determined to walk a length and shake loose agitation, but as he rounded the side of the building he glimpsed a young boy peering in the first-floor window, or at least attempting to do so, his lean body poised on tiptoe as he struggled to balance on a rock required to reach the pane. It wasn’t one of the reformed urchins he’d trained and employed to put in an honest day’s effort, and none of the lads who worked for the hell would commit the offence.
‘You there.’ Cole paused two strides away, confident his startling bark of reprimand would spark the boy into a fast run and the situation would resolve itself, but the opposite proved true. The lad froze, as motionless as a star in the sky, and due to his lack of focus and precarious perch, nearly tumbled to the ground from the stone where he’d balanced. With something akin to delayed panic, the peeper took a leap any rabbit would envy and broke into a run.
Sparked into action, Cole followed to nab the lad’s elbow with a swift swipe and thrust him to rights against the side of the hell with the intent to teach him a stern lesson. Their eyes locked and, with unexpected force, a frisson of anticipation thrummed through him. The culprit may have experienced it too, as his eyes grew wide, the glitter of reflected light a-dance there. Taking advantage of the timeless moment, the lad attempted to jerk himself free and the harsh movement caused his cap to snag on the wooden slats and topple from his head. A rush of long yellow tresses as shimmery as moonbeams at midnight followed.
‘What the devil?’ The words faded on a note of recognition. A girl? A woman. He narrowed his eyes in assessment, his mind one beat slower than his body, which seemed immediately aware and peculiarly so. He knew those eyes. Lady Amberson? But why? Nothing seemed to make sense, most of all the hitch in his pulse. He was already a right bit cagey. He’d left the lady in Charing Cross, dressed to the nines in her fine day gown, tucked into a hackney towards Mayfair. He was a shrewd and clever businessman with acumen for complex problem solving, yet something here posed an unsolved riddle.
‘What are you doing…’ His eyes skimmed her length in the blue-black shadows. ‘Dressed this way?’ He still held her arm, some unexplainable force, protectiveness or untamed interest, or neither perhaps, provoking him to keep hold. What if she bolted? Took off running as quickly as she’d materialised? Safety, he reminded himself, it was an issue of personal safety. ‘Why were you attempting to look in this window?’
She uttered not a word. Her eyes lowered, breathing stilted and, if it wasn’t a trick of the moonlight, her skin paled considerably. Still, she didn’t attempt to free herself. He leaned a bit closer. ‘Will you answer the question?’
Her brows pleated slightly before at last she matched his gaze