Page 13 of Lady Gambit
Had she spent years attending society functions, she might have trawled her mind to put a face to the name. “Sadly, no.”
“She has been a patient at Bethlem Hospital for sixteen years. You would have been a child when you knew her.”
Sixteen years?
The same length of time she had been under Aaron Chance’s care?
Was it a coincidence, or did Nora Adkins know the secrets of her past?
“I remember nothing about my childhood. Whenever I try to recall places, names or faces, it’s like trawling through dense fog.” It proved so frightening she always turned back.
Mr Flynn’s brown eyes softened. “Daventry said you were wandering barefooted through the rookeries when you stumbled upon Aaron Chance. That you had a large lump on your head but cannot recall how you came by it. What do you remember about that night?”
She’d woken to find herself curled up in a doorway. It was cold and dark, the noises of the night terrifying. Dogs prowled the streets, vicious in their hunt for scraps. Drunken men cursed each other, brawled and vomited in alleyways. The pained cries of hungry babes wrenched at one’s soul.
“I’d been sleeping in the entrance to a baker’s shop, though I don’t know how I came to be there. My head hurt. The pounding like a hammer on an anvil. Dried blood coated my fingertips and my matted hair.” She bent her head and parted her locks. “If you look closely, you can still see the scar.”
Had someone hit her?
Had she fallen?
How could she not know the answer?
Mr Flynn examined the scar. He stroked the silvery line gently with the tips of his fingers, feeling the remnants of the wound Aaron had tended long ago.
“You’re lucky you hit the hardest part of your head,” he said, his voice warm with compassion. His breathing deepened as he slid his fingers back and forth through her hair. Then he suddenly whipped them away and straightened.
Their gazes met, and though she felt a little giddy whenever she looked at him, she explained how Aaron had taken her under his wing and found them lodgings above Mrs Maloney’s bookshop. That her adopted brothers called her Delphine because that was the name sewn into her dirty dress.
“Delphine?” Her given name slipped effortlessly from Mr Flynn’s lips.
“Yes. Mrs Maloney was surprised. Most people sew initials into garments.”
Mr Flynn glanced at the door to the modiste’s shop. “I need to speak to you privately. Somewhere we can sit, and I can probe your mind. Where I can make notes and discuss the possibility Nora Adkins does indeed know you.”
A gasp caught in her throat. She had expected him to say the woman was deluded, to look remorseful and confirm there was no hope of her discovering her true identity.
“I believe we should sit with your eldest brother and have him work with us. Your safety must be the priority.” He covered his heart with his hand to show he spoke in earnest. “I cannot be your protector, Miss Chance, and I fear you may need one desperately.”
Her pulse skittered.
None of this made sense.
What had he learned at Bethlem?
“Aaron will be furious. He will hide the truth from me. He’ll push me aside and attempt to solve my problems.” He’d gather her in his competent hands and return her to the perch in the gilded cage. “He will never forgive me for seeking help elsewhere.” She would forever be at fault when all she’d wanted was answers.
“I fear the last thing you need is a war between me and your brother.” Concern marred his tone now. “We must dig deep to discover the truth, not squabble amongst ourselves.”
He’d omitted to say this was men’s work.
That she was a liability.
A burden to him and her kin.
The sudden need to flee rose in her chest. Familiar words echoed in her head as they always did during times of stress.
Run! Run, my darling. Save yourself. Don’t look back.
