Page 46 of To Dare the Devil

“Come with me, love,” Grace said, her voice gentle now as she held out a hand to her.

Kathy hesitated, her face ashen. She stared back at him, as if willing him to say something, anything, to explain. But there was nothing to say, no explanation he could give.

Guilty.

Guilty as charged.

Worthy of being left dead in a filthy alley in the Dials.

“Go home now?” the little girl asked her mother, casting him anxious glances from over her shoulder.

“Yes, my sweet. We’ll go home and see Nana and Pops.”

The child gave an excited wriggle before glancing back at Max again. She frowned, pointing at him. “Who is he?”

Grace looked back at him, expressionless, before answering. “That’s no one, Betty, my love.”

She took Kathy’s hand and gave a tug.

Kathy was perfectly still except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She stared at the carpet, though Max willed her to look at him one last time. He knew he would never see her again, but she did not look up, and only followed Grace blindly from the door.

Chapter 15

Pip,

I’m coming, but you’ve a damned lot of explaining to do, brother.

Who the hell is the mother? Please don’t tell me you’ve ruined some poor girl?

―Excerpt of a letter from The Lord Thomas Barrington to his elder brother, the Hon’ble Philip Barrington, Earl of Ashburton (Sons of Lucian and Matilda Barrington, The Most Hon’ble Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu).

19th June 1842, Fort William, The Highlands, Scotland.

It took a moment for Louis to come to his senses, to realise they were standing in a public street, embracing in broad daylight. He grasped Evie’s hand and dragged her behind him into the carpenter’s workshop. She gasped, but did not murmur a word of protest. The door was locked but flew opened with one hard kick. He entered and pulled Evie in behind him, slamming the door shut and pulling her into his embrace, holding on tight.

His heart was hammering so hard he felt giddy, but Evie was here, in his arms. It felt like a dream. Her head rested against his chest, her hands clutching at his lapels. There was a dull thud as her bonnet slid to the ground, but neither of them made a move to retrieve it. They just stood there, holding on tight, neither of them saying a word. Louis lowered his head, burying his face in her soft hair and closing his eyes, breathing in the scent of her. Home, his heart whispered. Though he had come in search of her, he had come home.

“Ma petite,” he said, hardly recognising his own voice, thick with emotion.

“Your heart is beating very fast,” she observed. She was trembling, he realised now, he could hear the quaver in her voice, the fine tremor running through her body, so close to his.

“My heart is beating for the first time since you left me alone,” he replied, trying to mask the anger behind the words, the hurt. Not her fault, he reminded himself. She’d had no choice but to leave him. Yet the sense of abandonment remained.

She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t know until it was too late,” she said, beseeching. “I could not stop them.”

He cupped her face with his hand, his thumb stroking the satiny skin of her cheek. She was here. She was really here. “I know,” he whispered.

“But why are you here?” She sounded awed that he was. Uncomprehending.

“You know why I’m here,” he said, and that had sounded angry, brutal. She drew back a little, wide-eyed.

Louis swallowed down the emotion roiling inside him, reminding himself to step carefully, but he was all raw edges and exposed nerves. He had not felt this vulnerable and afraid since he was a child. He had sworn no one would ever have the power to hurt him again and yet, here he was, with his heart exposed.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, drawing in a shaky breath. “I’m just… Merde, Evie. Do you have any idea how much I missed you?”

She stared up at him, utterly guileless. “No,” she replied frankly. “I don’t. Not really.”

Voices sounded on the street outside the shop, and she tensed, turning her head to peer through the grubby window.