Page 122 of Marry in Scandal

“Comforting for whom?”

“For them, those poor dead boys—to show that they’re not forgotten—and for Edward, and perhaps, for me in a way too.”

“But Galbraith won’t know. Nor will the dead. The dead are dead.”

“I told you you’d think it was silly. But I don’t care, I want to do it. I don’t know why we don’t do it in our church—”

“Popish practice, can’t be doing with it!” George said in a gruff, disapproving voice exactly like the vicar’s, and they laughed.

“Here’s Westminster Bridge. Nearly there now.”

“Lily.” Rose stopped abruptly. “Over there, isn’t that Lavinia Fortescue-Brown?”

“Of the Surrey Fortescue-Browns?” Lily said laughingly. “In London? That girl! Has she run away from school again?”

“I think she might have.” Rose was serious. She pointed to where a young girl stood with an older man, arguing.

“That’s Nixon!” Lily hissed. “He’s trying to abduct her.” She ran toward them. George and Rose followed.

A traveling chaise rumbled over the cobbles and stopped next to Nixon and Lavinia. A door swung open, pushed from within. Nixon grabbed Lavinia and tried to shove her inside.

“Nixon! Don’t you dare!” Lily screamed. “Stop! Abductor! Stop!”

Lavinia fought and kicked, screaming at the top of her lungs. Lily screamed too as she raced toward them.

Nixon kept trying to shove Lavinia into the carriage. Lily got there and whacked him over the head with her reticule. It was too light to do him much damage, but it distracted him enough to make him turn. “You!” he snarled.

“Release that girl!” She grabbed Lavinia’s skirt.

“You interfering bitch!” Nixon swung her a backhander, but Lily saw it coming and ducked, still clinging to Lavinia’s skirt.

With a loud yell George came flying through the air like a wild monkey, landing on top of Nixon, sending him sprawling on the cobblestones. She jumped up and kicked him, hard. He curled up in a ball, howling with pain and fury.

Rose grabbed the other half of Lavinia’s skirt. “Pull, Lily!” They both pulled and suddenly Lavinia popped free, like a cork popping from a bottle. They fell back against the parapet of the bridge.

People, noticing the disturbance, were moving forward in curiosity and concern. The driver, seeing it, whipped the horses and the carriage rumbled away.

Lavinia, now safe, started weeping. Rose held her, murmuring reassurance. But where was Nixon? Lily spied him slinking into the crowd on Westminster Bridge. “Quick, he’s getting away! Help! Someone stop that man! He’s an evil child abductor!” she yelled. But nobody made a move.

A piercing whistle split the air, and in the sudden surprised silence, George yelled, at the top of her voice, “Ten quid for whoever brings me the man in the yellow waistcoat! That one there.” She pointed.

At the chance of ten pounds, men emerged from the crowd: burly men, tattooed men, the kind of men nobody would want to meet on a public thoroughfare, let alone a dark alley. They prowled toward Nixon.

The crowd around him melted away until there was just Nixon, pressed against the parapet of Westminster Bridge, and a small group of hefty ruffians forming a ragged semicircle around him.

He produced a knife and brandished it. “Stay back!”

One brute snorted. A scarred thug spat. A third produced a much more wicked-looking knife. They moved closer. “Ten quid is ten quid,” one of them said.

Nixon looked wildly around. There was no escape. He twisted around, and before anyone realized what he was about, he stood poised on the parapet. “There’s always another way,” he said. He turned and dived gracefully off the bridge.

They heard a thump and a splash and some shouting. Lily and George rushed to look down, pressing against thestone barrier, but all they could see was a barge passing under the bridge and men on it shouting as they peered into the water.

“Can you see him?” Lily shook her head.

“He can’t have gotten away, not with all these people around, surely,” George said.

A couple of rivermen rowed their boats out. They circled the area, probing the water with their long hooks while barge men shouted directions.