A Kiss In The Dark (33 page)

A boy with strange purple eyes? Could it be …? Deirdre’s heart rate increased, and she glanced in the direction of the parlor. Should she tell Tristan?

But almost as soon as the notion occurred, she discarded it. She’d already decided his presence was detrimental to getting any information out of the Rag-Tags, and she didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing. Someone needed to pay the boys a visit, however, and now was as good a time as any.

Jenna was dancing about before her, her eyes bright. “Did I ’elp?”

“You certainly did.” Deirdre smiled at her and started forward to retrieve her cloak just as her housekeeper appeared at the end of the hallway, bearing a tray.

“Mrs. Godfrey, I’m going out. If Lord Ellington should inquire as to my whereabouts, tell him I’ve gone to run a few errands and will be back shortly.”

“Should I have Cullen bring the carriage around?”

Deirdre bit her lip. That would more than likely be a mistake. Dan wasn’t the only one to have been won over by the earl. Her coachman seemed to have fallen under his spell, as well, and Cullen would probably refuse to take her until she told Tristan of her discovery.

“No, that’s all right.” Catching Jenna by the arm, she pulled her toward the door. “It’s a nice day, so I think I’ll walk.”

“Walk? But, my lady—”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.” Deliberately ignoring the housekeeper’s concerned look, she offered her a reassuring smile and ducked out the door with Jenna in tow. She could only hope she could accomplish her task and be back before Tristan noticed her absence.

Peter sat at the plank table with his chin propped on his hand, watching as Emily laughed with a group of the other boys on the far side of the room.

She’d been with them for a week now, and he’d already forgotten what life had ever been like without her. Despite the uncertainty of her situation, she’d proved to be amazingly courageous, her cheerful nature lifting the spirits of the rest of them. She actively participated in the activities of the Rag-Tags, doing her share of chores and helping to keep the younger ones, especially Benji, occupied and out of trouble.

She’d even continued to go out with Peter to practice her lift technique. After a few times, she’d proved to be rather adept at it, though she hadn’t yet tried a real mark. To her, the whole experience was a game, and Peter was reluctant to take it beyond that. He doubted she would ever really have a use for what she’d learned, as he couldn’t help but believe that she wouldn’t be with them much longer.

The thought of her leaving hit him harder than he would have expected. Ever since his mother had thrown him out to fend for himself so long ago, he’d tried to keep people at a distance, but somehow Emily had managed to win her way through his defenses. She truly did seem to be the angel Benji believed her to be.

As he remembered the way he’d slipped and called her that the other night, he felt his cheeks heat. It wasn’t like him to be fanciful, but there it was. He’d been so stunned by what had almost happened that he’d spoken without thinking.

And that brought him to Jack.

Tensing, he got to his feet and wandered over to stand next to the fireplace, his back to the room. He’d known Jack was capable of a great many things, but he’d never dreamed the boy would do anything like what he’d attempted to do to Emily the other night. If he had succeeded, it would have been Peter’s fault.

He clenched his hands into frustrated fists. There was no doubt he’d done the right thing by throwing Jack out. It should have been done long ago. But he knew better than to think it was all over. Jack Barlow wasn’t one to just walk away from a slight. He would be back. The only question was when. And how would he take his revenge?

At that moment, he was jarred from his thoughts by the sound of the hideout door bursting open. All eyes flew in that direction.

The figure of Lady Rotherby filled the opening, her discerning gaze traveling about the room as she stepped inside. She was followed by a dark-headed young girl Peter vaguely recognized.

As one, the boys gathered about Emily and formed a wall in front of her, attempting to block her from view. But it was too late. The viscountess’s eyes had already lighted on the girl, and she’d apparently recognized Emily despite her lad’s clothing. A wide smile spreading over her face, she crossed the room, coming to a halt only a few feet away from the group.

“Emily,” she said softly. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have found you.”

For several seconds, no one spoke. Everyone seemed frozen in place. Then Emily gave a desperate shake of her head and took a step backward, her expression full of fear.

The dark-haired girl, who had remained close to the door, began to bounce up and down in excitement. “I told you she was ’ere.”

“Jenna, hush,” Lady Rotherby tossed over her shoulder before reaching out a supplicating hand to Emily. “Please, don’t be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a friend.”

“You’re here to take me back to Tristan.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“I won’t go! I won’t go back!”

Before the viscountess could reply to Emily’s vehement exclamation, there was the sudden loud pounding of footsteps outside in the alleyway, and Miles flung himself in through the open door, gasping for breath.

“Peter, it’s Lady R! She’s—” As he noticed the tableau before him, he skidded to a halt and his last word came out in a squeak. “—’ere.”

“So I see,” Peter growled, planting his hands on his hips. He should have known better than to put Miles, of all people, on sentry duty.

The freckled boy reddened guiltily. “Sorry, but she came in a ’ackney instead of ’er carriage, or I would ’ave recognized ’er sooner.”

Oh, well. It couldn’t be helped now. They’d been discovered, and all they could do was wait and see what Lady Rotherby intended.

“Please.”

The word was soft, little more than a whisper, but it had the impact of a shout in the crowded room. Heads whipped toward Emily as she stood with her arms wrapped about herself, her chin raised in defiance despite the moisture that shone in her eyes.

“Please go away,” she continued, her voice quavering slightly. “Go away and leave me alone.”

Lady Rotherby shook her head. “Oh, Emily, I can’t. Your brother deserves to know that you’re all right. He’s been so worried about you.”

“I don’t believe you. My brother never cared about what happened to me before. Why should he start now?”

“That’s not true. He does care, darling. If you’ll come back and give him a chance, you’ll see that.”

“He had a chance. I tried to tell him how I felt, but he wouldn’t listen.” There was a mutinous set to her jaw that Peter recognized even after knowing Emily such a short time. She wasn’t about to give in easily. “I want to stay with the Rag-Tag Bunch. I’m happier here than I ever was with Tristan.”

“And what about Barnaby Flynt?”

Peter gave a start. The viscountess knew about Flynt’s search for Emily?

As if in answer to his silent question, Lady Rotherby nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard he’s looking for you, and I know why.” Forging a path through the crowd of boys surrounding Emily, she gently touched the girl’s arm. “Believe it or not, I know a bit about Barnaby. I know how dangerous he is, and I know he won’t give up. You can’t hide forever. If you stay here, sooner or later he’ll find you.”

Emily bit her lip. “And if I go home, how do I know he won’t follow me there and hurt the people I care about? You didn’t see what he did to that poor man. I couldn’t bear it if he did something like that to someone else.”

Lady Rotherby bent down to Emily’s eye level, her gaze intent. “Your brother won’t let that happen. If you come with me, we’ll talk to him together. We’ll go to the law and they’ll arrest Barnaby so he’ll never hurt anyone again.”

“I don’t know.” Her expression confused, pleading, Emily’s gaze flew to Peter, as if begging him for guidance.

He didn’t know what to do. Though part of him longed for Emily to stay here, to be one of the gang from now on, he’d known from the very beginning that she didn’t belong. Not here and not with him. She was the daughter of an earl. He was the son of a prostitute. She was meant for a world of wealth and privilege, while he could never hope to have anything better than what he had now.

An angel didn’t belong among thieves.

Unable to ignore her beseeching stare, he made his way over to her and took her hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “You can trust Lady R, Em. If she says your brother can take care of this, ’e can. She’s been a good friend to us, and I’d trust ’er wiv my life.”

Emily still looked doubtful and she studied him intently, as if attempting to verify the veracity of his statement. He remained silent, willing her his strength. This had to be her decision. He couldn’t make it for her, no matter how much he might want to.

Emily felt as if her whole world was spiraling out of control. After a week with the Rag-Tag Bunch, she’d started to let down her guard, to believe she was safe. Now, here she was, being forced to make a decision she wasn’t ready to make. On the one hand, the Rag-Tags had come to mean so much to her. Each and every one of them was firmly embedded in her heart, and she didn’t know how she could ever bring herself to leave them.

But at the same time, Tristan was the only close family she had left. Deep down, underneath the layers of hurt and anger, Emily wanted to believe that her brother was sorry for all that had happened, that it was possible that things could be different between them.

An image flashed behind her eyes. A memory of a long-ago afternoon when Tristan had taken her for a walk in the park. She couldn’t have been more than three or four at the time, and her brother had carried her about high on his shoulders, his grip so steady and sure that she had never once felt afraid she would fall. Though she would have denied it aloud, she missed that feeling. The feeling that no matter what happened, her adored older brother would always be there for her to rely upon.

After a moment, she glanced back at the viscountess. “Has Tristan really been worried about me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, he’s torn Tothill Fields apart looking for you.” Lady Rotherby smiled reassuringly. “Your brother is a good man, Emily. I realize things have been difficult, but nothing will ever be solved as long as you keep running away.”

Emily let go of Peter’s hand and moved off a short distance, considering all that had been said. She had to admit that it would be nice to be back in her own warm bed with a full belly and clean clothes to wear. And the thought of being able to sleep without worrying about Barnaby Flynt took a huge burden off her shoulders.

However, she couldn’t see herself just walking away from the new friends she’d made after everything they’d done for her. Her gaze swung back to Peter, searching his countenance for some sign of his feelings on the subject. His expression remained unreadable.

“Do you love your brother, Emily?”

Lady Rotherby’s question caught her off guard. Once again, she found herself remembering that day in the park, the laughter and affection that had existed in that magic moment, and she felt a tug at her emotions.

“I … I suppose so,” she said slowly.

“Then give him another chance. I know you won’t regret it.”

Something about the woman’s kind face and gentle smile drew Emily in, made her trust her in spite of everything. “Would I be able to come visit the Rag-Tags whenever I wanted?”

The viscountess looked around at the assembled group. “That would be up to your brother, but I don’t see why something couldn’t be worked out.”

Well, that wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. Emily sighed and closed her eyes. Now that she’d been found, she really didn’t have much choice, did she? But perhaps she could win at least one concession.

“All right. I’ll go home. I’ll give Tristan a chance.” She paused. She knew she was only putting off the inevitable, but she needed time. Time to resign herself to what was about to happen. Time to decide what on earth she was going to say to her brother when she saw him again. “But not yet.”

Lady Rotherby’s pleased expression instantly faded. “I don’t understand.”

“I want to stay just a little longer with the Rag-Tags,” Emily explained, her gaze taking in the faces that had become so dear to her. “Some of the boys aren’t even here right now. Nat, Benji … I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to them.”

It was true. Nat and Davey had taken Benji out with them early that morning and had yet to return.

No, she couldn’t go without saying good-bye to Benji. She had to wonder how he would react to her leaving. In the past few days, ever since Jack had destroyed his precious book, he’d taken to following her everywhere, clinging to her hand as if relying on her for support. How would the little boy fare without her?

“Please?” she implored the viscountess. “A few more hours is all I ask.”

The woman sighed. “Emily, I understand how you feel. But even if I leave here without you right now, you must know the minute I tell your brother where you are, he’ll be on his way here to take you home.”

“Then don’t tell him.”

“Darling, I have to. I can’t keep this from him.”

“You don’t have to keep it from him forever. Just for a short while. Please, promise me you will?”