Page 43 of From Duke Till Dawn
“The royalty of lawbreakers,” he said drily.
“We get blunt without having to kill or hurt anyone. We don’t get dirty making our fortunes. That makes us almost respectable.”
Not all of their class held to the rules. Lacey would have her blood if she didn’t come up with the money. Even if she survived that, she had to live with Alex’s hatred. The threat of his vengeance still hung over her head, as well. Every step she took was a step into nothingness, as if she kept throwing herself off a cliff over and over again.
“Your Grace?” the driver called down. “Shall I drive on?” He sounded nervous, with good cause. Sharp-eyed urchins massed around the carriage, ready to pry off the ducal crest on the door or strip the vehicle of its fine brass fittings.
“No,” Alex answered. “Find a safe place for the carriage. Wait half an hour, then come back for us.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The driver wasn’t happy about any of this—that much was clear.
Before a footman could get down and open the door, Alex did it himself. Cassandra realized he did it to save the servant the real possibility of having the gold braid from his livery cut off, or the lace at his cuffs torn away.
Alex stepped down. The urchins stared at him with awe, but none of them advanced, too terrified by his imposing presence.
He turned and offered his hand to her. It had to be pure force of breeding that made him so polite. But his fingers tightened around hers when she slid her hand into his. The skin of her hand felt directly connected to her heart, because it jumped at the contact. She tried to smother the sensation.
His thumb brushed over her wrist, and his gaze flew to hers.
“Scared?” he said quietly. “Your pulse is hammering.”
“Fear means I’m smart,” she replied. “No one can slip close and stick me with a blade.”
“I said no harm would come to you while we’re together. I meant it.” His gaze held hers, and that jolt skittered through her again. Nobody had ever promised to keep her safe before. Not her father, not Martin. No one.
And she believed Alex. He’d keep her safe—in order to get his money back. For now, for these few moments, she could be comforted having him close.
The handful of dirty children seemed to break free from their fear, and scurried forward to surround her and Alex. She batted their hands away from Alex’s pockets and her reticule. But then she reached into the small embroidered bag and pulled out a few pennies.
“Take them,” she said to the children, “and go away.”
In an instant, the coins vanished, and so did the tiny gang.
“You didn’t have to give them money,” Alex said.
“What will they eat tonight if I don’t?” she asked, then shrugged. “This way, I can pretend that I’m helping someone.”
“How much money do you have left?”
She weighed her reticule with her hand. “Almost all gone.”
His gaze was enigmatic as he guided her toward the Union Hall. He drawled, “Let me guess—let you do the talking.”
“This isn’t your world,” she answered.
“Convenient.”
She shot him a glance. “There’s nothing convenient about me coming here. We’re the gazelles leaping in front of a pride of lions.”
The loading doors to the warehouse sported a giant rusted lock. But no one and nothing entered that way. Instead, Cassandra led Alex to a narrow yet heavy door with a small peephole.
After drawing a deep breath, she knocked. The peephole opened, and a pair of red-rimmed eyes glared at her.
“You’re not wanted here,” the owner of the eyes growled.
“Just let me see her, Sam,” she pressed. “I wouldn’t come unless I wanted to make it right.”
The peephole closed, and her heart sank. Failure. This was her one good lead in finding Martin. She started to turn away—then the bolt slid back and the door creaked open.
