“Directly behind you,” Pierre whispered, his voice so quiet that Daniel had to strain to hear the words.
The light grew slightly brighter as they eased forward and finally they reached the street corner. There, they began to run, intent on escaping their pursuers. But he watched carefully so as not to become hopelessly lost on the crooked, winding streets.
The disorienting sensation as they ran gave him even more respect for Beatrice. To think of her alone and nearly naked, uncertain of where she was going or who she might encounter made him shudder. It was amazing she’d made it as far as she had when he came upon her.
At last Daniel halted alongside a building, thoroughly winded. Pierre joined him, out of breath as well.
“That was close,” Pierre managed.
“Too close.” Daniel kept his voice down and watched all around them for a moment. “Let us see if we can find a hackney coach stand.”
“What did you see in the window?” Pierre asked as they walked again.
“I believe I caught sight of Mr. Finch and can provide a description to Hurdy.”
“One has to wonder how much more information the Runner will have to be handed in order to take action.”
“A similar question crossed my mind.”
“I must say, I admire Miss Linfield’s escape even more now.”
Once again, Daniel realized he and Pierre were in complete agreement.
BEATRICE WOKE EARLY the next morning with a gasp and pressed her hand against her racing heart. She’d had a terrible dream. A nightmare, really. It was with no small measure of relief that she glanced around the bedchamber to see none of it was true.
The tiny room of the brothel had been so clear. She’d been standing between the bed and the door, where she’d last seen Mary. Tears had streaked down the young woman’s face, but she hadn’t made a sound.
Beatrice touched the dampness on her own cheek, realizing she was also crying. A fit of anger flooded her, making her long to throw something. She was angry with Mary for not escaping with her and angry with herself for not doing more to help free her and any others who wished to leave the brothel.
The nightmare made her realize she’d spent far too much time worrying about herself and her own future when those women were worried about surviving the day. Beatrice now had a choice whereas those women didn’t.
Yet what could she do when her own life was so uncertain?
She slumped back against the pillow, her anger fading, feeling helpless all over again. It wasn’t as if she could march into the brothel and unlock all the doors, shouting for everyone to leave while they could. Besides, that would only be a temporary solution. Mr. Finch would refill those rooms with other unsuspecting women or those so desperate for food and shelter for themselves or their families that they were willing to sell their bodies to gain basic necessities.
Perhaps while Mr. Hurdy’s focus was on the brothel, she could work on the problem in a different way. She wanted Mary’s freedom, but it was also important to make certain no one else ended up in the position she and Mary had. The servant registry office would be the logical place to start, but she wasn’t brave enough to go alone.
Daniel’s image came to mind. Would it be overly forward of her to ask if he’d accompany her to confront the clerk or to see if there was someone in charge with whom she could lodge a complaint?
The thought of Daniel calmed her, though she knew she shouldn’t become dependent on his presence in her life. His confident, reassuring demeanor combined with his handsome features and muscular physique made her believe he could handle any problem. He was kind, honorable, and the memory of the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners when he teased her warmed her even now.
But her feelings for him were more than any single quality. She liked him far too much and couldn’t stop thinking of him. She felt a connection with him that was difficult to explain but impossible to dismiss. Was it only because he’d come to her rescue? No. It was that and so much more.
She squeezed her eyes tight, hoping to halt her wayward thoughts. He was not for her. She knew that. He was the younger brother of an earl, for goodness sake. And while Caroline and Margaret might wish to ignore it, she was ruined, something Daniel knew all too well.
Though Caroline insisted she take her time to decide about her future, Beatrice detested the limbo in which she had lived for months now. Her father hadn’t deliberately meant to leave her in dire circumstances when he’d given away her dowry. He hadn’t spent it frivolously, but rather doled it out in small amounts to help someone in need. Who was she to begrudge his efforts when those people needed help too? He’d intended to replace it but had died before doing so.
His dedication to the less fortunate was what had attracted her mother to him. However, that trait had also caused a few arguments. Those had been rare, but Beatrice remembered them clearly. Her mother had accused him of putting other families ahead of his own. He’d always insisted it was only temporary, then he’d smile and kiss her mother’s cheek, telling her that she and Beatrice would always be the most important people in his life.
But after her mother had passed away, no one had been there to remind him. Only Beatrice and her questions had fallen on deaf ears. She loved her father dearly and missed him but couldn’t help a sliver of resentment at the circumstances in which he’d left her.
Wishing wouldn’t change anything, so she rose to wash and dress for the day, then penned a message to
