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Thirty-Five

“Which do you think Daisy will like? The white or the pink? Which would be the most useful?” Eliza held up two different pairs of tights.

She was in the hosiery shop later that afternoon on the ground floor of the hotel picking out last-minute items that they would need on their trip.

Jenny had come along with her because out of the three of them, she enjoyed shopping the most.

Cora and their mother had gone off to find orange blossoms because Fanny had insisted every bride needed to wear them on her wedding day. Eliza could hardly believe that they would be married tomorrow.

Lord David and Rothschild were at the coffee shop on the other side of the hotel’s ground floor, while the other ladies were upstairs entertaining Heni and Daisy.

They’d developed a sweet bond with them in the days they had stayed with Violet.

Eliza and Jenny would go back and join them as soon as they were finished.

Jenny grinned at her with a smile that was both loving and exasperated. “You have money now, dear. You can buy both. I’m sure she will like them.”

Eliza stared at her, dimly coming to realize that she was right.

Simon and Mr. Hathaway were at the bank now, along with the solicitor her father had brought to make the necessary arrangements for her inheritance.

Lord Leigh had gone along for good measure to make certain that everything was arranged in Simon’s favor.

Dunn had gone with them to make sure Brody didn’t pop out of the woodwork along the way.

They were still there now, but all she needed to do was charge it to their suite.

“Then I suppose I’ll take both.” A slow smile spread over Eliza’s face.

Her entire life, her small family had been forced to pinch their pennies due to Mr. Dove’s dying and leaving them almost nothing and Mr. Hathaway’s refusing to fund more than the most minimal allowance.

He’d even forbidden her mother from acting, believing that it might somehow reflect badly on them, and by extension, him.

It would be a novel experience to not worry about money anymore.

She finished selecting her items and walked to the shop’s counter.

On the way, Jenny glanced out and noticed the shop across the wide corridor.

“I’m going to pop into the haberdashery while you arrange payment.

I want to see if they have any turquoise thread that will match my cape. I ripped the seam last night.”

Jenny hurried off, and Eliza took a moment to arrange the items be charged to her room.

Once the shopgirl had wrapped the tights in tissue paper, she made her way out.

She drew up short and dropped her purchase when someone roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her in front of him.

Something hard dug into her ribs, and she thought it might be the end of a pistol.

“Keep walking and don’t ye dare slow down.”

She knew that voice. It was that man who had watched her that night in Whitechapel, the one who had been with Brody. She thought she had also seen him on the riser at the fight. His name was Beck.

“This is a mistake. Simon has the money and he intends to pay Brody,” she said, keeping herself calm. They were in the middle of a hotel. He wouldn’t do anything to her here.

“Is that right? That why ye both plan to run away across the sea?”

He didn’t believe her and nudged the gun so hard into her ribs that she knew he would bruise her.

“Believe what you will, but I am not going with you.” She tried to stop, but he cursed under his breath and tightened his hold on her arm until he was twisting it behind her back. “You won’t shoot me in front of all of these people.”

He laughed. The fact was that the lobby was so busy with people coming and going that no one seemed to stop to notice him strong-arming her.

“Wot makes ye certain of that? Brody plans to kill ye for the fun of it.”

His face got very close to her when he said that.

In a panic, she bashed the back of her head against his nose.

He yelped in pain and she was able to pull loose.

She needed to draw him away from Jenny in case he had seen them together, but she also needed to warn Simon, who should be coming back any moment.

She ran for the front door, which was standing open because a doorman was welcoming guests.

“Summon the police,” she urged as she ran past him. “That man is chasing me and he has a gun.”

The doorman looked behind her, but she was already outside and onto the sidewalk.

She turned left to head toward the bank on the next street over, but a black carriage pulled up at the intersection, blocking her path as she started across the road.

The door opened and Brody stared down at her, his lips twisted into a smirk of victory.

—

Simon, Dunn, and Leigh were hurrying back to the hotel after concluding their business at the bank.

Hathaway was off meeting with his solicitor.

Simon was anxious to get back because the sun was already setting and if Brody was around, he’d come out at dark.

The paperwork had been signed and filed with the bank.

Thankfully, Hathaway had been true to his word and the transfer of funds to an account in Simon’s name would be done the moment he returned with a certificate of marriage signed by the local registrar.

He kept expecting to feel different now that he had a fortune in his name, but he didn’t.

He felt exactly the same as he had when he’d held Eliza in his arms. Nothing was better than that.

Not all the money in the world. He was simply glad that he could now provide her with the sort of life she deserved.

Giving such a significant portion of the money would hurt, but it would be worth it.

Leigh and Rothschild had offered to help initiate the transfer since no one believed that Simon was safe from Brody until the transaction was finished.

They would arrange a meeting with him back in London and see that it was done.

They had each chastised him a bit for not coming to them earlier with Brody’s threats, but they didn’t understand how Brody operated.

He would have found another way to keep Daisy until he decided that he and Simon were done.

The fight had done that; the money was only gravy to Brody.

Their words had rolled off of Simon like water from a duck’s back. He had Eliza now. He was untouchable.

He started when he saw Eliza hurrying down the sidewalk. She hadn’t noticed him yet. He raised an arm and called out to her, but she didn’t hear or see him. She’d looked behind her, and he realized that she believed someone was chasing her.

“Brody,” he said, and the other men came to attention beside him.

They all started running. At that very moment, a carriage pulled up before Eliza, blocking her progress across the street, and he knew that Brody was inside.

Brody would kill her. He would do it just to spite Simon. Or perhaps he’d found out that she was an American heiress and he meant to ransom her to her father. Either way, she’d end up dead and Brody wouldn’t blink as he did it and it would be Simon’s fault.

As they crossed the street, Simon saw Dunn pull a revolver from the waistband of his trousers as he went for the carriage driver. Simon wrenched open the door of the carriage. No one was inside but Brody, who was just leaning out the other door to grab Eliza.

Simon reacted without thinking. He grabbed Brody by the back of the collar and pulled him back into the carriage.

Brody lashed out with his left hand, catching Simon across the face and sending him tumbling into the wall of the carriage.

It gave Brody the split second he needed to withdraw his gun with his right hand.

Simon didn’t know if he meant to shoot him or Eliza, but he didn’t intend to give the man time to choose.

He grabbed Brody’s right hand with both of his and they fought for the gun. The next seconds were a blur in his mind as they tussled. Somehow the barrel of the revolver turned upward toward Brody’s neck, and in the next instant the gun went off.

Brody stilled and Eliza screamed. It took a moment for Simon to realize she hadn’t been shot.

Brody fell limp against the seat. The gun fell to the floor, so Simon kicked it out onto the road.

Then he hurried out the other side of the carriage and pulled Eliza into his arms. Simultaneously, he looked for the carriage driver, whom Dunn and Leigh had subdued, and the man that had followed Eliza.

Lord David and Rothschild came hurrying out the door of the hotel, dragging a man between them. The man’s hat had been lost in an obvious scuffle, so it was easy to identify him. Beck, the bastard.

Simon held Eliza against him and buried his nose against her neck. Her sweet rose scent washed over him.

“It’s over,” he whispered. “He won’t threaten us again.” He’d expected to feel a whole range of emotions, but he only felt relief, profound relief that went all the way down to his bones.

“Are you hurt?” Eliza ran her hands over his chest, looking for injury.

“No.” He kissed her neck and then looked down into her upturned face. “It’s over, Angel.”

She threw herself into his chest and he thanked God that she was safe.