Page 31

Twenty-Two

Without another word, he led her through the brothel, hopeful that they wouldn’t run into Mrs. Jeffries, who ran the place.

By unspoken agreement, they walked down the back stairs and exited out the back door.

He took hold of her hand when they were outside and started walking to Commercial Street where he’d arranged for the carriage from Montague Club to meet him.

“I can’t believe you followed me.” He tried to make his voice sound harsher than he felt.

“I understand. I can’t quite believe it myself. I’ve been told I can be impulsive.”

He glanced over at her and laughed. She smiled. “I can’t quite believe you’re real,” he muttered under his breath. She heard him, if the color in her cheeks was any indication. God, she was lovely.

“I never would have suspected that Daisy existed,” she said. “Why does she live here and not with you at the club?”

“Because of Brody.” The name had him looking around as if that alone could summon the man. It wasn’t dark like the last time they had come to Whitechapel, but the streets were so close together that the air seemed darker and still. He tightened his hold on her hand.

“Is he her father?”

“No, her father’s a jack. A sailor. Mary loved him, but when he came back from sea and saw her with a swollen belly, he denied the babe could be his.” Simon had gone at him for that, but after the beating, the bloke had set sail on another ship and never returned.

“Oh, well, then, why does Brody have a say?” she asked.

“He didn’t want me to leave and doesn’t want me to stay at Montague. He resents the fact that he can’t use me as he did before. I’ve cost him much in unearned wealth.”

With her free hand, she touched his hand that held hers. He looked down at her fingers, taking comfort in the touch, before looking up at her. “You cared about him, didn’t you?” she asked.

A lump rose in his throat causing it to feel tight and achy, but he quickly pushed the pain away. “He was the only father I ever knew. For a time I thought he felt like I was his son.” He shrugged. “I was wrong.” He’d been wrong about so many things in his life, but that had hurt the most.

“Or perhaps he did feel that way and he’s hurt that you left?”

Simon shook his head. “That wouldn’t change a thing. He’s gone too far. He claims that I owe him money for leaving, and he won’t let Daisy leave until I pay for her freedom. It’s why I’ve agreed to that final fight. He’s promised that we’ll both be free of him.”

“Wait a moment.” She came to a stop, forcing Simon to stop with her. “You have to participate in a prizefight to be allowed to take Daisy out of here?”

He nodded.

Her brow furrowed and she brought his hand to her chest, hugging it to her breast. He forced himself to take a deep breath and not focus on how soft and warm she was.

Still, he found himself drawing closer to her as thoughts of last night burned their way through his mind.

The way she had felt beneath his hands…riding his fingers.

“But isn’t it dangerous?” she asked. “Isn’t it a leap of faith?

If he’s truly so bitter about you leaving him for another life, then how do you know he isn’t planning something terrible?

How do you know he doesn’t mean to hurt you in some way?

How can you trust that he’ll follow through with his promise? ”

Everything she said was correct. His smile was tinged with sadness. “It’s good you understand that Brody can’t be trusted.”

“Simon.”

Simon stared at her like he might stare at a simple child. “Wot choice do I have, then, Eliza?”

Understanding dawned on her face. “You don’t have choices, do you? Choice is a privilege granted to those lucky enough to have a little bit of power,” she said.

The tight ache returned to his throat. This was why he’d never be allowed to have her for his own. The sadness was chased by anger. He wanted to punch something. Brody came to mind.

“You’ve not been born to privilege, but you’ve made powerful friends. You could talk to Mr. Thorne or Lord Leigh. Surely, you know the Duke of Rothschild would help you.”

“What would they do? Send police to the streets of Whitechapel to root him out? Put everyone—Daisy, themselves, and their families—in danger? No, I’ll deal with him on my own.” His jaw set rigidly and he started walking, but she refused to budge, drawing him back to her.

“Simon, wait. There must be something—”

“No, Eliza, there’s nothing that can be done. Ye don’t understand how it is here. If I don’t do what he wants, I may very well return to find Daisy gone, and I can’t risk it.”

The terror reflected on her face was enough to reassure him that she understood now.

He wouldn’t have to pick her up and tote her out of there, which is what he’d been on the verge of doing.

They couldn’t stay here, and she needed to know how dangerous it was for her here.

She squeezed his hand and followed along beside him.

They emerged onto the pavement lining Commercial, and he looked for the carriage along the crowded street but didn’t see it.

“What is stopping you from taking her out of there?” Eliza asked, a quiet hesitation in her voice.

He was silent for a moment, contemplating how much to tell her.

“The house has a watchman. He follows Heni and Daisy whenever they leave. Brody will know about your visit soon enough now.” His grip on her hand tightened again, as if he could feel her being pulled away from him.

She glanced around them as if looking for the man or the men who had followed them the last time they’d come to Whitechapel.

Her body tightened; he could feel her tense next to him. “Promise me that you’ll never come here again. He’s much too dangerous.” When she didn’t answer immediately, he turned to her and took hold of her shoulders. “Please, Eliza.”

She nodded. “I promise. I mean it this time.”

He let out a breath and turned back to the street. He spotted the carriage. It came slowly down the lane, separating itself from the other traffic to approach them.

“Did you ever try to leave?” she asked. “Before…when you were a child?”

“Once, a long time ago,” he answered. “I beat up a man for Brody. He was a rival, led a gang.” He paused, debating whether or not to say more, but she deserved to know.

She should know. Perhaps it would make her keep her distance.

“The man died. As soon as I found out, I resolved to leave. The next day, I ran away and used the money I’d saved to buy a train ticket to Dover. ”

“But you came back.”

“I came back for Mary. I couldn’t leave her here alone.

She ran away from the workhouse and took me with her.

I could do no less for her.” He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he’d left for Dover.

He’d panicked. When he’d come back, she hadn’t been ready to leave because she still believed in Brody, so he’d stayed.

Every day he wondered what their lives might be like now had he forced her to leave with him. Would she still be alive?

Eliza nodded as if she could possibly understand what his life had been like then. “Where did you go?”

“The sea. I’d always wanted to see it. I took the train from St. Pancras to Dover, got off, and walked to the shore. There was a little stone house there near a cliff. It seemed abandoned, so I rested there. Fell asleep and woke up the next morning. That’s when I knew I had to come back.”

They were silent as they waited for the carriage to navigate its way through traffic. After a moment, she asked, “Have there been others…that you killed?”

He’d been waiting for that question. “A few.” He looked at her to gauge her reaction.

She didn’t meet his eyes, and he felt the need to add, “They were all during fights with bad men.” All of them had been Brody’s rivals, men who would’ve killed him if he hadn’t killed them first. Still.

Death was death. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done. ”

She looked up at him, and there were tears shining in her eyes. Something about that made pain slice through him so acutely that he caught his breath.

The carriage pulled to a stop at the curb. Simon cleared his throat and called up a greeting to the driver and opened the door.

“I’ll take you home,” he said.

“Jones, Devonworth’s driver, is waiting for me at the British Museum. He thinks I’ve been there all this time.”

“To the British Museum,” he called up. “Keep driving until I tell you to stop.”

The driver, McCullough, agreed. Simon helped her inside and climbed in behind her.

The inside of every carriage that the club owned was as plush and comfortable as the club itself.

This one had a tufted velvet interior in dark crimson.

The buttons and knobs for the windows and the little carriage lantern were gilded and shining.

It was truly like stepping from one world to another.

The moment the door closed and the carriage took off, she turned to him. “I want you to know that I don’t fault you for anything you’ve done. I can’t possibly understand the life that you’ve lived. I just want you to know that I admire—”

He covered her mouth with his hand to stop her. He wouldn’t possibly survive adoration from her. It would undo him. “Don’t, Eliza. This has to end now, tonight. There is no future where I’m not me and you aren’t destined for more.” Her eyes became liquid and he had to look away.

Taking his hand from her mouth, she put it in her lap and held tight. “Then I want to make the most of the next few minutes,” she said.

Startled, he looked back at her. From the look on her face, she meant more of what had happened last night. He couldn’t deny her that, because he wanted it more than he wanted his next breath. He drew her into his lap and kissed her.