by Liana Lefey
And what of his place among Gonson’s Boys? His employer had carefully selected only those men beyond reproach to become part of the elite force. How could he possibly consider a romantic relationship with a woman who’d once sought employment in a brothel, regardless of her reason? As to the nature of said romantic relationship, there was only one viable option. Marriage. The Jacqueline he’d come to know would certainly never settle for anything less than a wedding ring. Whatever she might have been before, she was a proper lady now. To propose anything but a formal union would be an unforgivable insult to her—and it would be damned dishonorable of him.
Still, he had to weigh the potentially disastrous consequences of such a union. What if they did marry and someone from her former life one day recognized her? He’d be ruined. Everything he’d worked for would be gone—his reputation, his job, his entire future.
Even these considerations did nothing to abate his desire for her. Just the memory of being close to her made his breeches uncomfortably tight about the crotch. He stifled a groan.
Stop it. Concentrate on your task!
The Archangel was Boucher’s greatest threat. But Emma, Rose, and anyone they might have talked to was also in danger. He didn’t doubt for a moment Boucher had ordered the killings in Covent Garden. The Temple of Aurora’s owner possessed no conscience. She wouldn’t balk at arranging the deaths of every woman and child in this place.
Despite Jacqueline’s assertion that Boucher had fallen on hard times, logic told him she must still be in business or she wouldn’t have coin to pay for the services of those who’d left her nasty messages here. One thing was certain; he’d kill the bitch himself before he let her lay a finger—her own or a hired killer’s—on Jacqueline or any of the girls.
Jacqueline. Will didn’t blame her for leaving the name “Raquel” behind. He’d never known that unfortunate girl. He knew only the woman she’d become. And he admired her more than anyone he’d ever met.
His pulse thudded in his ears, and his head began to ache.
What have I gotten myself into? Extinguishing the lamp, he sighed into the darkness. At least now he didn’t have to lie to her anymore. All the cards were laid out in full view. She knew who and what he was.
Someone was shaking him. The first thing Will saw on opening his eyes was another pair of eyes—about three inches away. He yelped as every nerve in his body simultaneously awakened.
“Sir?” whispered the little girl before him.
“Yes, what is it?” he gasped, trying to wrestle his heart back down his throat. Frowning, he sat up and peered at her in the lamplight. Sarah, seven years old. The high, narrow window above was pitch black. What time is it? “Why are you not asleep?”
“I’m too scared to sleep,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked, striving to be gentle despite his irritation over being awakened in what was surely the blackest middle of the night.
“There’s a man outside.” Her bottom lip trembled. “He frightens me. No one would tell me what happened during dinner, but all the teachers were so upset I know it had to be something really bad. Jane said she overheard one of the kitchen staff say somebody had got in, and that there was a lot of blood. Now there’s a man outside. I came to find Mrs. Sloane, but then I saw you.”
“Where is this man?” Will asked, careful not to show his own trepidation.
“I saw him from the common room window. I know I’m supposed to be in bed, but—”
“Show me.” Standing, he offered his hand, gratified to note there was no hesitation before she took it and started tugging him along.
Will tried not to make any noise that might awaken anyone as they climbed the stairs and passed door after door until they reached one that was slightly ajar. Crouching, he tiptoed in after Sarah, careful to keep low. A lamp burned in the corner, its wick trimmed so the flame was barely alive, but it cast enough light for someone outside in the dark to see in. He stayed to one side of the window until he could peep around the curtain’s edge.
“Is he still there?” whispered the child.
Will peered out into the darkness, but saw nothing. “Where was he?”
“To the left of the light.”
He made out the vague shape of a man standing where she’d said, just outside the circle of light cast by the street lamp. “How long has he been there?”
“He was there when I got up to see if there were any stars out.”
“How long ago was that?”
“I don’t know.”
Casting about, he spied a clock on the mantel. It was only a little past two in the morning. Peering out again, he saw the shape move. There was no way to tell if the person out there was watching the school or not. Regardless, if the fellow stayed too long, one of the watchmen would run him off.
“Mr. Woodson?” said a muzzy voice from behind. “What are you doing up here?”
Turning, he glanced over his shoulder to see another little girl had joined them.
“I brought him to look at the man standing outside,” said Sarah, saving him from having to reply.
The other girl disappeared, but not for long. A moment later, there was a soft stampede of bare feet in the hall, and then there were little girls all around him, trying to look through the window.
“What man?”
“Where?”
“Move over!”
“I want to see…”
Damn. When Will looked out again, the shadow had shifted and was now barely distinguishable from the surrounding darkness. This was pointless. Standing, he faced the girls. “It’s probably just a wanderer taking shelter,” he said, trying to calm them. “It’s very early, now. You should all go back to sleep.”
“What is the meaning of this?” snapped a familiar—and very angry—voice.
Turning, he saw Jacqueline framed by the doorway, a candle in one hand and the other clutching the halves of a wrapper closed. Her long, dark hair hung unbound about her shoulders, making her wide hazel eyes appear even larger in her delicate face.
His mouth went dry.
“Monsieur, I asked you a question.” The light in her hand wavered, betraying a nervous tremor.
“He came with Sarah,” volunteered one of the girls. “There was a man outside—I saw him.”
Jacqueline’s gaze flew to the window, and she strode over to sweep aside the curtains and peer out into the night. Will looked with her just in time to see the shadowy figure vanish into the deeper darkness.
When she turned, her face was no less fearful or wroth, but her fear and anger were, thankfully, no longer directed toward him. “You saw it?”
He nodded. “It was too dark to make out much, but yes.” He laid a hand atop Sarah’s head. “Sarah saw him first and came down to fetch Mrs. Sloane. I came instead.”
“You ought to have come directly to me,” admonished Jacqueline, though her voice was gentle as she addressed the girl.
Sarah squirmed. “I did not want to wake you—you had only just gone to bed. I saw your light go out under your door as I was going to the common room to find a story.”
Jacqueline’s lips thinned, and she flicked a glance at him. “Sarah is our resident owl,” she murmured.
Nodding understanding, he bent on one knee before the little girl. “Sarah, did you notice anything special about the man or anything odd about the way he behaved? Did he move about or stay in one place? Was he alone the entire time?”
“He walked around some when I first saw him,” she answered. “Like as if he was looking for something in the hedge. Whatever it was, I don’t think he found it. Nobody else came.” She frowned. “Though, I suppose they could have come when I went to get Mrs. Sloane.”
“Thank you, Sarah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked to Jacqueline. “Well, he’s gone now.”
Her eyes were worried but her voice calm as she addressed the children. “Yes, and no harm done. Now you may all—including you,
Sarah—go back to bed. I want no grumbling.”
She spoke this last over a chorus of disappointed voices, and Will watched as the girls trudged away to their respective rooms. He had serious doubts as to whether they’d actually sleep. Patting Sarah’s hair and wishing her a good night, he followed Jacqueline out into the hall.
The creaking of floorboards behind the next door along their path prompted her to open it and shoo the children back to their beds. Her look was resigned as she bade him follow her once more. “Disturbances in the night here invariably spread beyond the room in which they originate,” she told him. “There are few secrets among us.”
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned to him, worry in her eyes. “Do you think it was one of Boucher’s men out there?”
Though she was covered from neck to toe, seeing her in a state of such delectable dishabille was the realization of many recent dreams. The warm, amber light of her flickering candle caught like a thousand tiny sparks in the dark tumble of her hair. Her face, lovely by day, was luminously beautiful in the gentler light.
“What else is there nearby that could possibly draw interest at this hour?” he at last answered, unable to stop staring. “A thief would not have come near the street lamp at all. He was waiting for someone, someone who knew to look for him in that particular spot. He wanted to be sure they could see he was there. The fact that he fled just after you opened the curtains tells me he was watching this place. A connection exists between him and someone here.”
Her lips thinned in that look he was beginning to know so well. “When I inquired of Agnes this evening, she said Sally is always first to volunteer to go to the market to fetch provisions. I was told the girl had even asked once or twice, claiming a need for ‘fresh, free air.’”
The pieces were beginning to fall into place. “Sarah said he searched the hedge,” he told her. “I cannot but wonder what he was looking for. I doubt he was hoping to find fairies. A message makes sense. Or, that failing, he was lingering, waiting for someone to come out and meet him in person.”
She shook her head. “This building was modified specifically to prevent clandestine comings and goings. The key-restricted exits and lack of ground level windows are quite deliberate. Mrs. Sloane keeps the front door. The rear gate is always locked at night. Mr. Young sleeps above the carriage house and its doors are also secured at night. There is no way Sally or anyone else could get out without someone knowing.”
“Might she have stolen a key?”
“Mrs. Sloane, Agnes, and I are the only ones with keys—the outer doors require one to open from the inside as well as from the outside. We keep them on our person at all times throughout the day, and we all sleep behind locked doors at night. There is no possible way she could have obtained one even for a short time.” A strained chuckle escaped her lips. “It sounds like a prison, no? But it’s for the sake of their security that I maintain this place as if it were a cloister.”
Indeed, in that respect, it did seem rather like a nunnery. There had to be a way for messages to travel back and forth between Boucher’s man and someone inside this place. “Does Sally’s window face the same street as the common room?”
A frown marred her brow. “It does.”
“In the absence of a written message hidden in the hedge, our shadow-loving friend might have been looking for a signal from within.” He explained how a group of thieves he’d helped apprehend had coordinated to communicate across distances in such a manner, using shuttered lamps to relay a sequence of flashes that could be interpreted only by those with the proper code.
Jacqueline gave a helpless shrug. “But the only way to know if this is happening would be to have someone we know watch the school from out there where our friend is.”
It would require asking for outside assistance, and he wasn’t ready to do that just yet. “There might be another way,” he ventured. “During my search of her room, I’ll look for evidence of such communications. If I find anything, we’ll know it’s her. Then we’ll let slip some misinformation in her presence—you could say you’re expecting a new arrival in two days’ time.”
“Do you think such information will be of interest to Boucher?”
He grinned. “It will if she thinks the new arrival is to be personally delivered by the Archangel. If we see activity that night, we’ll know it worked, and we can use it against her.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jacqueline had to admit it seemed a solid plan. At this point, anything was preferable to doing nothing. Taking action would be satisfying. “I agree. In the morning, I shall tell Mrs. Sloane—”
“Don’t tell her it’s a ruse,” he cautioned. “Her reaction must be genuine. Sally must believe the Archangel is coming or it won’t work.”
Nodding, she acquiesced. Deceiving Prudence felt wrong, but he was right. Certain preparations commenced when they had advance warning of a new arrival. “You believe Boucher will act?”
“She’d be a fool not to take advantage of such an opportunity, considering the personal danger your friend represents. I only wish our visitor had not been alerted to our knowledge of his presence.”
Again, she experienced chagrin over her rash reaction. “I should have thought better before acting. The idea that a voyeur might be watching my girls…”
“I don’t blame you, but now that he knows he’s been seen, our visitor will be more cautious. I doubt we’ll be able to spot him again.”
“Had Sarah not been restless we might not ever have known he was there to begin with.” A shudder ran through her. “I wonder how many nights he has been watching us?”
“Try not to dwell on it. Until this is resolved, I would assign people to stand watch throughout the night—in shifts of no more than a couple of hours’ length so no one person is overburdened.”
“I think it a prudent suggestion. What of Sally? I cannot exclude her from the rotation.”
“No, you cannot.” He hesitated, as if he wished to say something he knew she would find unpleasant. “I’ll secretly double the watch during her shift.” Raising his hand, he cut off her protest before she could voice it. “Moving in makes sense, and it’s only temporary. I know you and the other teachers are aware of the gravity of this situation and are more than willing to defend both yourselves and the girls, but you’d be foolish to refuse me in this for many reasons. As you said earlier, I’m well suited to the task of protecting this school and its occupants. Whereas one of them might hesitate to shoot an intruder, I won’t.”
She marked he hadn’t included her in his statement. “Again, I cannot deny your logic. Although the senior staff have all been shown how to operate a pistol, only Mrs. Sloane and I have any real experience.” In her mind flashed a memory of ice-blue eyes, their light fading into dullness as the life left them. “I don’t know how the girls will react.”
His lips quirked. “If Sarah’s reaction to finding me downstairs tonight is any indication, I cannot imagine the others will have a problem with it—especially not once they hear her tale. Consider, too, what they overheard from the staff about what happened in the courtyard. The secret is out. They know something is wrong, and they’re frightened.”
“I will ask the staff and students about it tomorrow morning and see what they say,” she said at last. “If, however, they object, I must respect their wishes.”
“Understood.” Again, he hesitated. “And what of you? How do you feel about it?”
Her pulse skipped. “I don’t fear you, if that is what you mean.”
“I’m glad. Glad my having concealed the truth from you has not caused you to decline my help.” He stopped, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob before he spoke again. “I hated lying to you, but I was certain telling you the truth would ruin the friendship developing between us. I could not bear for that to happen.”
What she felt for this man was far more than friendship. But such feelings were doomed to be rejected. My scars…
Fri
endship was the most she could hope for with him or any other man. “I was, at first, angered by your apparent betrayal, but you have proven your motives worthy. We both want the same thing—for these girls to grow up protected. Provided we go forth in honesty, I believe we can remain friends.”
The look in his eyes was one of both relief and—unless she was mistaken—regret. He held out his hand. “Then let us begin anew.”
When she clasped his palm, the impact of his touch was such that it stole the breath from her body. Like fire catching in dry tinder, heat raced up her arm and slammed into her chest. From there it engulfed her, pooling deep in her belly and sweeping down the backs of her thighs to make her bare toes curl.
His eyes widened, and Jacqueline heard his breath catch.
In that instant, she knew he felt the same desire. But she couldn’t allow herself to get carried away by the knowledge. Releasing his hand, she clutched her wrapper closer about herself. A silent prayer of thanks winged its way heavenward for the dim candlelight that helped hide her flushing face. “If they agree to let you stay, one of the ground floor offices can be converted into a room for you. What will you tell Mrs. Hayton?”
“The truth—or part of it, anyway—that someone has threatened the school and I’ve agreed to be quartered here until the danger has passed. I’ll still pay her the full rent, and everything but what I absolutely require will remain there until my return.”
She felt a wry smile lift the corners of her mouth. “She will be shocked to hear of my agreeing to such a thing.”
“Then the gravity of the situation should be immediately apparent to her upon learning of it.” His dark gaze bored into her. “If the consensus tomorrow is against my staying here, I’ll have no choice but to ask my superiors for assistance to protect you. I will not leave you vulnerable to an attack.”
The door behind him opened on groaning hinges, and a bleary-eyed Mrs. Sloane peered out at them, her eyes narrowing at once on seeing them together. “Is something the matter?”