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H uddled into the far corner of the room she’d been shoved into, Molly tried to fight the heaviness pulling her eyelids shut, but the effort only made her slip farther into an endless pit of exhaustion caused by the bitter concoction the men had begun forcing down her throat.

Separated from Charlie and the rest of the children upon arriving at this house, she’d not seen or spoken to them since the previous day.

The wood creaked as it so often did, whether because of the men moving around inside, or because of the wind beating the walls. Molly had not yet figured out where they were for certain. But she had her suspicions after hearing one of the men complain about a fog moving in from the sea.

Southern England somewhere, right on the coast. A spot from which they could be transported onto a ship. After all, the men who’d captured them had mentioned making a handsome profit from selling them. And who better to sell a group of stolen children to, than someone who could make sure they would never be found.

A tremor stroked the edge of her spine. She pressed her cheek against the wood planking beside her, heard the faint squawk from gulls in the distance, and the rummaging about of some small creature who’d found its way inside the wall.

As time passed, it became increasingly hard for her to hold out hope of being found. The alternative would be to try escaping.

Uncertainty crept through her hand in hand with something worse. Futility. To run from here would not be easy. She’d no idea how to do it. Not without Charlie. And as long as her body was numbed, her legs made useless, and her mind filled with thick fog, it would be impossible anyway.

But maybe once they were on the ship…

Escaping from there with nothing but endless expanses of water as her salvation would mean certain death since she could not swim.

Perhaps that was for the best, though. Perhaps it was time to consider the option that led to the least amount of suffering. Perhaps…

The fog turned increasingly murky. She tried to hold on to her thoughts, but it felt like they vanished through holes in her brain.

No matter how hard she struggled to stay conscious, it was no use.

Nothingness finally claimed her.

* * *

Adrian hadn’t slept a wink. He’d not even tried to. If he was to die today, he’d not spend his last night alive in a state of oblivion.

Instead, he’d used every second in a way he believed might matter, by penning his every thought, from his fondest childhood memories to his opinion on what had been done to him these past few days.

Kendrick had provided the supplies he’d needed. He’d even brought Adrian a glass of brandy. Not that Kendrick’s kindness dismissed his actions. Adrian stared at the last few words he’d written, then blotted the page and placed it on top of the rest – one neat stack to detail the most important parts of his life, simply to leave some sort of record – and shook his head. The constable had finally gotten what he’d been after for so many months.

A rattle of keys sounded. Then came the click of heels against the stone floor. Adrian looked toward the barred door to find one of the Bow Street guards approaching. Too soon. The night had passed in the blink of an eye. Dawn had broken without his being aware.

He blew out a breath and stood, prepared himself for whatever the guard meant to say.

The man, an older fellow with heavy jowls and thinning gray hair, stopped when he reached the barred door, his expression devoid of all emotion.

“I merely came to make sure you’re awake,” said the guard. “You’ve a busy day ahead of you, Mr. Croft.”

The barest twitch at the edge of the man’s lips showed the amusement he found in those words. Adrian refrained from telling him just how lucky he was to have the safety of bars between them.

“Seems so,” he muttered.

The guard’s expression tightened in response to Adrian’s tone. Hard and unfaltering. He raised his chubby chin. “A change of clothes will be brought in shortly along with your breakfast. From what I gather, the Earl of Marsdale wants to make sure you’re well-dressed when you meet your maker. Nice gesture, I suppose. On his part.” The guard cleared his throat. “You’ll be taken from this cell in roughly two hours and escorted to your place of execution. Any questions?”

“No.” Adrian had attended enough hangings over the years to know what to expect. A public spectacle filled with shouts and jeers. On occasion, those who came to watch even applauded – something that had always struck him as sickening, no matter who was put to death.

The guard left and Adrian shoved his hands into his pockets. Trust Edward to think of his appearance. He managed a smile and glanced around, took in the uncomfortable bench and uneven brick walls. It would be good to get out of this cell, he decided, and went to clean up the writing supplies.

* * *

“Jones and White will escort you,” Kendrick told Adrian when it was time to depart. “The chief magistrate and I will meet you there.”

“I realize there’s probably no point in saying this, Kendrick, but if you truly want to seek justice on Lady Eleanor’s behalf, keep digging. The proof Lawrence killed her exists. After all, he chose to cut out her eyes. If he didn’t discard them then that means he kept them. In which case they’re probably hidden somewhere, waiting to be found. I’m certain of it.”

Kendrick’s gaze was cool and non-apologetic as he stepped up to Adrian. “I’ve considered the same. I’ll do what I can, though I fear it shan’t be enough.”

Adrian stared into the pale blue clarity of the chief constable’s eyes. “You know this is wrong.”

“Whether Lawrence was guilty or not, doesn’t change the fact that you killed him.”

“It changes the circumstances entirely.” Adrian scoffed. What point was there in arguing this when he’d already lost? He dropped his gaze, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, then straightened himself to his full height. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Kendrick gave a curt nod, his hand clasping Adrian’s arm. Neither said anything more as the chief constable led him from the cell. Instead of heading toward the courtroom and the small room where he’d met with Edward a few days earlier, he was steered to the left.

They passed two more cells, only one of which was occupied by a young man who’d been brought in on thieving charges the evening before. He watched in silence as Adrian passed on his way toward the end of the hallway. A door there was unlocked and opened by one of the guards.

Kendrick ushered Adrian through to the vestibule where two other guards waited. Jones and White. They maintained a somber silence while Kendrick checked his pocket watch.

“The carriage will be here at any moment,” Kendrick said, his attention on the two men. “I trust you to make sure the prisoner reaches his destination without any issue.”

“Of course,” the older of the pair said.

Kendrick nodded. Hooves and carriage wheels sounded on the opposite side of the bolted door. Adrian’s lungs tightened, his stomach clenching with the awareness that time was slipping away from him.

A couple of bangs landed hard against the bolted door. “Richards here. Open up.”

One of the guards slid the bolt and the door swung open, allowing Adrian his first glimpse of the carriage that would take him to his doom.