Page 7 of A Relentless Rake

He frowned, deeply puzzled. “An alley?” Then he gave a dismissive laugh. “Oh, that! There’s a printer’s shop there. I sent my paper to them to have copies made to hand out at the Society.”

“At midnight?”

“Atnoon.” He ran his hand through his hair and muttered, “I must have written down twelve midnight by mistake, and that’s what you saw. I took the paper there right before I left for the country. The copies should arrive tomorrow.” He grimaced, his mouth tightening. “That’s where you were tonight, wasn’t it? The printer’s alley. For God’s sake, Olivia! You could have been killed.” His somber tone told her he wasn’t lying when he added quietly, “And all because of me.”

Her shoulders slumped, sharing the guilt he felt over her own foolishness. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry.” He placed a kiss to her forehead. “I never meant to worry you. It was only two days in the country. That’s all.” He wore the same apologetic look from their childhood that always graced his face whenever he’d broken one of their toys or stolen her share of the pudding. “Forgive me?”

Olivia bit her lip, then slowly nodded.

“I’m home now, safe and sound.” He smiled at her and squeezed her hands. “If all goes well, by this time next month, I’ll be a fellow of the Royal Society. The school will benefit from the notoriety, and all the worry will have been worth it. You’ll see.”

She gave another nod.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, I promise. But I’m tired and need to sleep. So do you.” He released her hands. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He disappeared up the stairs toward their rooms in the garret.

When the sound of his footsteps faded, she lowered herself to the bottom step and hung her head in her hands.

You’re not the only one who’s allowed to keep secrets.

Anguish overwhelmed her until she could barely breathe. Henry had always been loyal and loving, but he was also the one person in the world who held the power to devastate her.

He’d just done exactly that.

A soft sound came from the stairs above her. As she raised her head and glanced over her shoulder, she pasted a smile in place even though her heart was breaking. She’d become very good at hiding her true feelings over the years. “Who’s there?”

A five-year-old girl stood on the landing in her night rail and bare feet. From her hand dangled the rag doll that Mrs. Adams had made for her last Christmas. Rather, what was left of the well-loved doll, whose threadbare arms and legs would soon need to be replaced.

“It’s me,” the girl whispered.

“Cora.” Olivia held open her arms.

The girl ran down the stairs and into her embrace. Resting her head against Olivia’s shoulder, Cora wrapped one arm tightly around her neck while the other protectively held her beloved doll.

Olivia rested her cheek against the girl’s head. “You should be in bed.”

“I heard voices and got scared.”

“That was only Mr. Everett and me talking.” She placed a reassuring kiss on the girl’s temple and brushed away the stray strands of hair that had come loose from the braid that Olivia had worked when she’d put Cora to bed just after supper. “We were discussing tomorrow’s lessons.”

Thank goodness Cora was still too young to discern lies.

Of all the children at the school, Cora held a special place in Olivia’s heart. Normally, the school didn’t accept students this young, not even the scholarship girls. But Cora’s mother and father were both dead, and her aunt and uncle already had seven children of their own to care for. So the girl had been left to run wild on the streets without proper clothes or food. Most likely her aunt and uncle had simply been waiting until Cora was old enough to sell her into service of one kind or another.

The moment Olivia spied the neglected girl by the river, she knew she had to help her. She’d cried when she’d seen her stringy and matted hair, filthy face, soiled dress…and the fear in her eyes. Olivia knew the girl’s future would have been limited to being a washerwoman if she were lucky or a prostitute if she weren’t. Either way, she’d most likely have been dead before she’d reached twenty. Olivia had taken Cora home with her right then.

“Do I have to go back to bed?” Cora asked softly.

“No, sweetling, not yet.” Olivia rocked the girl on her lap. “We can just sit here for a while if you’d like.”

Cora cradled her doll in her arms the way that Olivia was cradling her. “I’d like that.”

“Me too,” she whispered and pulled the child closer.

Three