Page 32

The patrons arrived in waves over the supper hour, keeping Sara busy in the kitchen.

First came the stevedores, refreshing themselves after a day’s work on the wharf, then the farmers heading home from market.

She added potatoes and turnips to stretch the dubious stew and sliced loaves of dark, heavy bread.

As night fell, the noise in the tavern increased and Sara glanced longingly at the back stairs.

How soon could she finish and slip away?

“He’ll be wanting you out front soon.” The cook sat at the table, sipping from her jug and watching Sara scrape plates into the slop pail.

Sara froze. “I was hired as kitchen help.” She wanted no part of the raucous gathering on the other side of the kitchen door. Serving girls in taverns were exposed to the worst sorts of insults. She pictured the shifty eyes and oily smile of her employer. She couldn’t depend on him to protect her.

“Fools always buy more from a pretty face.” The older woman took a long swallow. She shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ll catch some gent’s eye and make yourself a shilling or two?”

Sara inhaled, fighting back the instinct to drop the dishes and run. The cook might be wrong. The innkeeper had left her alone this long. She forced her hands to move faster. As soon as the dishes were done, she’d climb up to the servants’ loft. With any luck, she could hide away until morning.

“Where’s that new wench?” The innkeeper’s voice boomed from the other side of the tavern door.

Sara’s heart sank. She’d never been lucky. Grabbing a bucket, she started for the back door. “I’d better get more water for the dishes.” She didn’t wait for the cook to answer.

Too late, she realized how Granny had sheltered her. Even when they’d struggled, she’d never been exposed to real danger.

“Well, where is she?” His voice trailed out the door behind her, deep and menacing.

Sara quickened her step, hurrying across the yard to the pump. There was a stack of firewood where she could hide.

Please, help me.

Hide me.

Let him forget about me.

She realized with a jolt of surprise that she was praying. She hadn’t sent up such a desperate petition since Colin lay dying in her arms.

Ye’ve a life before you, one God planned better than you or I ever could. She hadn’t believed Granny at the time, but now—

If you’re there, God, if you care at all, help me get away from here. Let me have one more chance.

Behind her, the back door was flung open, casting an arc of light onto the courtyard.

“Hey, now, come back here!”

Sara broke into a run, but his heavy steps followed, drawing closer. Hiding was out of the question now, but the gate that led to the mews was just ahead. She’d make a run for it.

A hand grabbed her arm, tightening like a manacle. “Where d’you think you’re off to, I’d like to know?” The innkeeper said between gasps, swinging her about. He gave her arm a vicious shake. “You’re needed to serve.”

He stood so close, she could see the red veins in his eyes and a white fleck of spittle at the corner of his mouth. Though he wasn’t much taller than she was, the hand that held her arm felt as unmoving as steel.

A wave of hopelessness swept through her, leaving her limp. So much for prayers. She was on her own, just like she’d always been.

James clenched his jaw in frustration. Imagining they could find her in the maze of buildings and alleys seemed incredible now.

She could be tucked away in a kitchen, or fast asleep in servants’ quarters, but he couldn’t give up.

Someone in this city knew where she was.

Please let us find her. It’s my fault she’s out here.

Let me have the chance to make things right.

“You’d best follow me, guv.” Henry’s murmur barely reached his ears, calling him back to the present.

James looked down with a flicker of a smile. “Very well. You haven’t led me astray yet.”

But instead of following him into the next tavern, Henry gave his arm a jerk and pulled him into the nearest alley.

“Henry? What on earth?”

Henry pressed a finger to his mouth and pushed them back against the rough wall of the building, his eyes trained on the street. After a long moment, he relaxed and looked up at James.

“Don’t think they’re coming after us.”

“They?”

“Didn’t you see those rough chaps, across the way?”

James was forced to admit he hadn’t.

“I reckon they’ll be waiting around, now they’ve got you in their sights.” He sent a narrow glance at James’s fine wool suit. “Told you you’d stick out, dressed like that.”

“Let’s cut through the mews then,” James said, with a nod down the alley. “We’ll come out a few blocks down. Might lose them.”

Henry eyed him with dawning respect. “Now you’re getting the hang of things.”

James led the way down the dark alley. He glanced down at the boy trotting at his side in time to see him yawn.

It was late. He needed to get Henry home to bed.

He needed to get back to Evie. For the first time, he pondered the possibility of not finding Sara.

The thought was so terrifying, it stole his breath.

He must have made some sound, for Henry sent him a curious glance.

James tried to summon a smile or a reassuring word for the boy, but his hope was dwindling. I won’t insist that she come back, not even for Evie’s sake. Just let her be safe.

“Release me.”

Only two words, but they stopped James in his tracks. He recognized that low, clear voice. Sara. Hope bloomed as he scanned the rough wooden fence that blocked his view of the yard on the other side. Where was she?

“Not likely.” A man answered, his voice rough and insistent. “You get in there and smile pretty. Make sure every man buys another round. What do you think I hired you for?”

James’s hands clenched at the man’s tone. He crept forward and peered over the fence.

“Nice work, guv,” Henry whispered at his side. “You found her.”

James spared him a tight smile, his eyes riveted on the scene before him. Her back was to him, but James knew that faded dress and floppy mobcap. A wiry man in a dirty apron held her arm, standing far too close.

“You hired me to work in the kitchen.”

“Well, that’s not what I be paying you to do. Sooner you learn who rules the roost here, the better.” The man jerked her arm and Sara stumbled.

James forced himself to take a breath and settle the rage coursing through his veins.

He needed to keep his wits about him. If he went charging in like a bull, Sara could end up hurt.

He crept to the gate and slowly lifted the latch.

The yard was in almost complete darkness except for a circle of light that spilled out of the back door.

“Let go of her.” James strode forward, his eyes trained on the man.

Both figures stilled in surprise at the sound of his voice.

“James.” Sara turned her head, her eyes wide. Under the shock in Sara’s voice was something warmer, a wash of relief and gladness that he couldn’t dwell on. Not until he got rid of the man who held her arm.

“An’ who might you be?” The man squinted but didn’t back down.

“I am Miss O’Connor’s employer.”

“Oh, ho, are you now?” The man seemed to find this amusing. “Well, that be a mystery, for I’m rightly certain that this here woman works for me, and that you be trespassing.”

James squelched the urge to level the man and be done with it.

There were better ways to solve problems, wasn’t that what he’d told Henry?

“She might be working for you now, but I had her first and she left without finishing the month she was paid for.” James forced himself to relax the hands that had formed into fists.

He leaned toward the man conspiratorially. “Owes me, you see.”

Sara gasped in outrage behind him, but James kept his attention trained on the man. He’d explain later.

The older man narrowed his eyes. “Seems you want her back awful bad.”

“Left me in a bind.” James shrugged, attempting to downplay his interest, though judging by the calculating look in the man’s eye, he hadn’t fooled him. “I’d be willing to pay you for any inconvenience.”

The older man scratched his chin. “Well, I might be amenable to a negotiation, so to speak.”

“Excellent. My assistant will agree to the terms.” James jerked his head in Henry’s direction. The boy straightened, catching on without a hitch.

“Eh, look here, I didn’t mean you could take her straight away.” The man swung Sara about. “I figure I should get one night’s work out of ’er for all my trouble.”

James tossed aside his pretense at calm and lunged, grabbing the man and twisting his arm around his back.

He was smaller than James but tough and wiry.

He struggled, clearly not about to give up.

James tightened his other hand into a fist. It had been years since the informal boxing matches at school, but he reckoned he still remembered.

Before he lost his grip on the man’s arm, he landed a solid punch to the side of his head.

The man crumpled, leaving Sara standing before him, an empty bucket dangling from her hand.

Henry let out a low whistle of admiration. “Don’t reckon I’ll be worrying about you anymore, guv.”

James ignored him, focused on Sara. “Are you all right? Unhurt?” He scanned her face, looking for any sign of injury.

“I’m fine.”

She wasn’t, if the pallor of her skin was anything to go by. James turned to Henry. “Do you suppose you can hire us a carriage at this time of night?”

The boy caught the bag of coins James lobbed at him and tested its weight. “I could fetch a coach and four with this lot.”

“A cabby would be fine,” James said dryly. Henry darted off, leaving James and Sara in silence.