She had never admitted that to anyone. It had always seemed so heartless to grieve for the loss of one family member more than another. But it didn’t feel heartless, sitting there with Alex. It felt like the truth.
“I don’t think it’s awful at all. I think it’s perfectly understandable. We expect our parents to pass on before we do, it’s the way of nature. But a sibling, and even more so a child, we expect to live as long or longer than ourselves. And then there is the fact that she was your twin….”
Sophie nodded thoughtfully. “With my mother, I lost her laughter and her love. With Lizzie, I feel I lost half of myself.”
“I cannot imagine what that must be like,” Alex said softly.
Sophie gave him a wry smile. “I think this is why people avoid speaking of the dead. We’re becoming maudlin.”
“And on such a lovely afternoon too. Did you notice that the sun has come out?”
She had. A beam of light was coming through a nearby window, occasionally catching him in the eye and bringing out shards of gold in the green she hadn’t noticed were there before.
“Tell me more about your childhood,” Alex prompted.
They spent the remainder of the afternoon speaking of their families, their friends. They spoke of their past and shared their dreams of the future. They drifted idly from topic to topic, by no means consigning themselves to the distressing themes of death and loss. They laughed a great deal and argued good-naturedly a little, and when Sophie took the time to stop and think about it, she realized she was, in that particular moment, truly happy.
The sun was beginning to set by the time one of the McLeod women cleared away the last of their plates. Sophie would have liked to remain there well into the night, sipping her ale and enjoying Alex’s company, but she knew she could not. Mrs. Summers was sure to be near to the vapors by now, and Sophie had no idea how well lit the streets in that part of London might be or if the moon would be out. She wanted to be home before the city became well and truly dark.
Alex sent someone round for their carriage, paid for their meal, and escorted her to the door.
“Your Grace!”
They turned to find Mr. McLeod calling to Alex from the kitchen door. “Your Grace, a moment. If you don’t mind overmuch, Molly’s made a fresh batch of biscuits for you and the lass to be taking with you.”
“Molly is his wife,” Alex explained with a barely concealed smile. He’d felt Sophie tense at his side at the woman’s name. He was a small man for it, but that sign of jealousy made him feel like crowing. He liked that she felt territorial.
“I’ll wait in the carriage,” Sophie said, clearly relieved. “Go say your good-byes, and do give the McLeods my thanks and compliments. Everything was wonderful.”
Alex took a quick look out the front door to assure himself the carriage was already across the street, then followed Mr. McLeod into the kitchens.
Sophie made it halfway across the street before she felt the hand come down on her shoulder. Whirling around, she found herself facing a thickset man with a barrel chest and squashed face, and a considerably weedier man with black hair that fell in greasy lengths around his pinched face. Both looked strong, smelled foul, and were obviously drunk. The larger man’s hand slid from her shoulder to grip her upper arm.
“Ey now, li’l bird. Where you flyin’ off to so fast?”
His accomplice tottered out from behind him to loom over her like a vulture. Sophie had to keep from screwing up her face at the overpowering odor of unwashed body and cheap gin. She’d come across men like this before in her travels. Any reaction beyond cool disdain was an open invitation for trouble.
She looked dispassionately at the foreign hand on her arm, then let her eyes travel up to fix the man with a cool stare.
“Release me.”
The men both guffawed with such similarity one could only assume they were related.
“Unhand her!”
All three turned to see her driver hop down from his box with whip in hand.
Her assailants were surprisingly agile for drunk men. Before Sophie could react, the larger man pulled her arm behind her back and covered her mouth with his free hand. The thinner man raised his arm to ward off the whiplash. After the first strike he caught the weapon in his hand and wrenched it free from the driver, then reared back and plowed his fist into the man’s face.
Sophie could only assume her driver had gone down. Her attacker was forcibly dragging her into a deserted alleyway, and as he pulled her into a shadowed recess, she lost sight of her would-be rescuer.