Page 54

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“You’re awake, then, Miss Georgie,” came Martina’s low voice, and Georgie opened her eyes blearily, then wider.

The young man by her bedside was fluffing the covers, plumping her pillows, fussing over her with the care that Martina had showed, all as if this was perfectly normal.

“We were that worried about you—you never struck me as the kind of girl who’d faint dead away, but this time you had reason to.

You’ve been asleep for so long we started to think the worst.”

Georgie picked up on the key word. “We?”

“Of course, miss. We were afraid Stiles had...well, he ‘d threatened, and Rafferty was half mad with worry when you disappeared. What in heaven’s name made you go out all alone, without Rafferty or me?”

“Who are you?” she demanded groggily, but she knew full well.

“I’m Martin.” He hesitated. “Martina’s twin brother, if that makes you feel any better.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, all of Billy Stiles’s odd comments finally making sense.

“No, I’m not,” he agreed. “And I’d better go change before Bertha finds out and raises a fuss. Though I expect she knows.”

“Bertha knows everything,” Georgie said gloomily. “She won’t be shocked.”

“Are you? Shocked, that is?”

Georgie considered it. “No,” she said finally. “You helped saved my life last night.”

“Rafferty saved you. I was just a distraction. You stay where you are, and I’ll see about a bath for you. The girls will bring up the water.”

It answered the question she was too afraid to ask. Where was Rafferty? Didn’t he care that she was finally awake? She lay back among the pillows. “Where is he?” she said finally.

“He left a while ago. He had some things to see to, he said.” Martin started for the door, striding like a young man, and she blinked.

“Is he coming back?”

There was kindness in Martin’s eyes. “I don’t know, Miss Georgie.”

She would have thought the bath would make her feel more human, but despite the delicious soak in the tub, her stomach was still churning.

Where was Rafferty? Now that Stiles was dead, he had no reason to stay in Corinth Place, unless he wanted the money himself.

But he already had money—he’d been ready to trade his own for her safety. Surely that meant something.

It meant he was responsible for her, and nothing else.

She dressed in one of her new dresses, too weary to protest, and slipped on her beautiful leather shoes.

Her reflection gave her no solace—she looked exhausted and almost tearful, and she quickly stiffened her back.

If Rafferty was leaving, she would give him no reason to repine.

It must be true, he really didn’t love her.

She’d mistaken his sense of responsibility for more tender feelings.

She’d thrown herself at him, time and again, and he’d resisted as much as any man could.

And she wasn’t going to sit around waiting for him.

Grabbing her shawl, she made her way up to the fourth floor and the window to the roof, climbing out gingerly to look down over the windswept city.

It was warmer than it had been, and down below, people were going about their business without the faintest notion that they were being watched.

She searched, but there was no sign of Rafferty on the busy streets below. Maybe never again.

She leaned back against the chimney, closing her eyes.

She missed the countryside, the fresh air and the sunshine.

The sun must shine as often in the city as it did in the country, but it didn’t seem like it.

All of London seemed mired in a gloomy miasma, and the smoke pouring out of the chimney pots only made it worse.

At least this one chimney wasn’t belching soot like all the others—it was quiet and unused, newer than the other chimney pots with no smoke stains or heat or. ..

She turned around, staring up at the chimney, then glanced out at the skies around her. Each chimney, on every house, was pouring out thick, black coal smoke. Every single chimney but the one she rested against, the one that stood on the edge of the roof, above no fireplace or hearth.

Rising, she examined it more closely. It was no wonder there was no smoke—the chimney pot was sealed tight. She knocked her fist against it, but the satisfying thud told her it was far from hollow, and she knew without question, she’d found the missing money.

The last thing she wanted was for someone else to find it.

Wrapping her shawl around her, she climbed back through the window and pulled it tight behind her.

As long as Rafferty didn’t know where the money was, there was a chance he would stay and search for it.

Once he found it, he would be gone, if he hadn’t gone already.

She went back to her room, closing the door behind her.

She had to think, undisturbed. He’d searched for days, he’d even been out on the roof with her and hadn’t noticed the defunct chimney.

There was no reason she should tell him—she could just pretend she’d never made that astonishing discovery, and maybe he would stay. Maybe he would learn to love her.

But that was a child’s reckoning and she was no longer a child. Sooner or later she would have to let him go.

It was close to midnight when Rafferty returned to the house on Corinth Place.

He’d had a busy day seeing to the aftermath of Stiles’s death.

All he needed was his men coming after him, intent on retribution, but it turned out Stiles’s hold on Belding’s old gang had been peripheral at best. Especially once they learned he hadn’t planned on sharing his windfall.

He had to reject their very flattering offer to join them, all without offending, and it had required several hours of careful negotiations.

And then there was his grandmother to deal with.

She was a stubborn old woman, determined to have him rejoin the family, but he wasn’t joining anything.

He was leaving London and all the responsibilities behind, going back to his sprawling farmhouse in Hampshire where he only had to worry about the livestock.

He was leaving Georgie to find a husband and have a real life.

He didn’t want to think about Georgie. He hadn’t seen her since he’d carried her home after she’d fainted, and he knew he’d see horror in her eyes when he did.

She’d seen him kill a man in cold blood, a man who was threatening to cut her throat.

It had been a close thing, but he was an excellent shot, and he’d never had any doubt he could make it.

She might not have faith that she’d been in no danger from his gun.

He’d given up on finding Belding’s long-lost money. He didn’t need it, and Stiles’s men accepted the fact that it was gone—there’d be no trouble from that direction. There was nothing holding him back from leaving.

Except for Georgie. He was a fool about her, he knew that.

In the end, he’d become as besotted as she was, and the sooner he left, the safer he’d be.

Every time he touched her he got in deeper, and he might start thinking foolish things if he didn’t escape.

He had complete faith that she could have a happy life with some kind young man. She wasn’t for the likes of him.

The kitchen was dark and deserted as he made his way to his rooms. He didn’t have much to pack—he’d leave his butler’s uniform behind—and he’d leave it up to Martina to say his goodbyes. He couldn’t stand to see the look in Georgie’s eyes when he left her.

He knew the moment he entered his room that she was there, and he walked through to his bedroom to find her perched on his bed. She was fully dressed, and he knew a moment of regret.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded roughly.

She didn’t appear discomfited by his greeting. She swung around and put her feet on the floor. Stockinged feet, and he remembered the feel of them in his hands, so delicate, so strong.

“I’ve come to give you what you want,” she said with a misplaced dignity.

“I don’t want you,” he lied, gritting his teeth.

She flushed. “Not that,” she said. “I’ve found the money.”

He just stared at her for a long moment. “No, you haven’t,” he said in flat disbelief.

“It’s on the roof. You never thought to check up there, and I found it. At least I think I did,” she added in an unemotional voice. “One of the chimneys doesn’t lead to any fireplace, and the chimney pot is new and sealed. I can’t imagine anything else that would be hidden up there.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “When did you figure this out?”

“This morning. You’ve been gone all day so I couldn’t tell you, but I thought you’d want to know. Now you can have it all for yourself and not have to share with Stiles.”

He said nothing, watching her. “Why are you telling me this?” he finally asked her. “Looking for the money is the only thing keeping me here.”

She held very still, as if she were about to make a great leap. “Because I love you. And love means wanting the best for someone, and letting them go when they want to leave.”

“Georgie, you don’t love me,” he said wearily.

She rose from the narrow bed and came toward him, and he knew if he put his hands on her he wouldn’t let her go. She came up to him, standing on her toes to place a soft kiss on his unresponsive mouth. “Goodbye, Rafferty.”

And she was gone.

He knew what he was going to do—there was never any question in his mind.

He’d already stripped off his coat, and he didn’t bother putting it on again as he bounded up the stairs two at a time, pushing through the baize door to the bedrooms. He moved past Georgie’s room with only a moment’s regret and then headed for Neddy’s.

He knocked softly on the door, then pushed the door open and stopped.

Neddy was lying in bed with Martina, both of them fully clothed, both of them sound asleep. Rafferty only hesitated a minute. “Wake up,” he said with a fair amount of force.

Neddy sat up in bed, blinking in the dim light. “What the hell do you want?” he demanded. Martina sat up beside him and then swiftly climbed off the bed.

“I must have fallen asleep,” she said with a fair attempt at innocence. “I’m so sorry. Did you want something, Rafferty?”

She was going to get her heart broken, and he resisted the temptation to lecture her.

She knew what she was doing, she knew the dangers, and there was nothing he could do to help her now.

“I’ve got something for Neddy,” he said, eschewing the proper “Master Edward” that he usually used. “Come with me.”

If Neddy was discomfited by the form of address he didn’t show it. Climbing out of bed, he slipped on his shoes and started toward the door. “Bring your coat,” Rafferty said. “It’s cold out there.”

“Where are we going?”

“Up on the roof. Your sister has made a discovery.”

“Where is she?” Neddy demanded, suddenly suspicious. “If you’ve done anything to harm her...”

He’d already done a great deal to harm her, but he wasn’t about to tell him. “She’s gone to bed. The rest is up to you.”

“What’s that you’ve got in your hand?”

“A fire poker. You’ll see why.”

Without another protest, Neddy followed him from the room, Martina taking up the rear. Neither of them balked at climbing out on the roof, and Rafferty found the chimney almost immediately. “Here,” he said to Neddy, handing him the fire poker.

“I’m not about to destroy the chimney...” Neddy protested.

“It’s a false chimney. Just break the chimney pot.”

It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, in the end. Coins and jewelry scattered on the rooftop, and Rafferty watched as a ruby necklace skittered over the side of the roof and down four stories to the grounds below.

“What the hell is this?” Neddy exclaimed.

“Part of the household. I believe you were told that everything in the house went with the sale. Therefore, this is, I believe, your family’s.”

“There’s a bloody fortune here. How will I explain how we got it?”

“No need to explain. No one’s going to question you too closely. It should be enough to get your family out of the River Tick.”

Neddy sat back on his knees, staring at the pile of gold in wonder. “I should say so. Martina, look!”

But Martina was looking at Rafferty with wonder in her fine brown eyes. “You sure you know what you’re doing, Rafferty?” she asked.

He moved out of Neddy’s hearing. “I don’t need it,” he said. “And this will ensure that Georgie will be all right. She can wait and marry someone she loves.”

“You’re a thief—you always need money.”

He shook his head. “This means I can leave with a clear conscience.”

Martina shook her head. “I don’t know that your conscience is that clear when it comes to Georgie.”

“She’ll get over me, the moment I’m gone. You can make sure she does.”

“I don’t know where I’ll be,” she said slowly.

“Does he know?”

She shook her head. “Don’t look at me like that—I’ll tell him. But that will be the end of it and I’m not quite ready for that. We’re a fine pair, aren’t we, mooning over the two of them?”

“I’m not mooning over anyone,” he said stiffly. “And she’s already well on her way to getting over me. I just don’t want her marrying the wrong man.”

“I think that’s a given,” Martina said. “But I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Martina, come and look at this,” Neddy called over, and Martina moved back to the chimney, leaving Rafferty to watch.

It would be well, he thought. Not that there was a future for Neddy and Martina, but Georgie would be free to find the perfect young man to adore her and give her babies.

And he’d be free. It was everything he wanted, wasn’t it? Of course it was.

The next morning, Rafferty was gone.