I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak.
“The only thing I ever felt with Justine was unmitigated lust. Either she learned to hide her power during such occasions or neither of us felt strongly enough to bring it to the surface.” He tilted my chin up, and his gaze locked on mine. “Never in my life did I feel anything so amazing until that night we kissed in the woods at Brighmor. And then I was a lost man.” Unguarded love filled his green eyes, and my heart nearly melted.
I leaned forward ready to make amends for being such a nitwit. “See, I told you it was nothing to worry about.”
Henry responded immediately, his arms tightening around me as he pulled me even closer. “Seems you were right,” he murmured against my lips. “And I know how much you like to be right.”
Thump...Thump...Thump...
I froze, and pulled away a fraction of inch.
“Now what?” Henry asked.
“Did you hear that?” Pushing up, I turned toward the fireplace.
Thump...Thump...Thump...
Henry moved with the grace and speed of a cat. A few long strides brought him to the hearth where he flipped the hidden lever. I scampered to the end of the bed just as the wall panel flew open to reveal the anxious face of a young girl.
“Beg your pardon, milord,” she said with an awkward curtsey. “Sophie sent me to fetch Miss Kilbrid.”
Henry moved aside, and the girl came into the room holding a lantern. “Who are you?” he asked.
“It’s Ellen,” I said before she could answer. “I met you that day in Mr. Faber’s shop.”
The girl shuffled her feet nervously. “Aye, miss. I’m the same.”
I looked her up and down, taking in the short, sturdy frame and coarse dress. At around twelve years, this girl already knew the nature of work. “Are you one of Cate’s children?”
She nodded. “My folks is dead, miss. I work in the bakehouse most days, but her ladyship has me keeping an eye on the younger orphans while that she devil’s about causing trouble.”
Henry shifted. “Is that why you’re here? Does someone need help?”
Standing almost side-by-side, Ellen looked a mouseling compared to Henry. “Aye, milord. I came to fetch her ladyship, but Sophie says she’s been called away by the King himself. One of the kitchen boys got the pox and the whole palace went into an uproar.”
“And Sophie told you I could help?”
“Aye, miss. Sophie said ye was the same as Lady Dinley.” Her voice broke unnaturally. Wiping a sleeve across her eyes, she turned just enough for the firelight to glint off the dried tear tracks that already stained her cheeks.
“Who needs Miss Kilbrid’s help?” Henry asked.
Ellen looked at me. “It’s my friend Jenny, miss. She...she don’t have much time left.”
*
Two-and three-storied lodgings sat cheek by jowl, jutting this way and that in a ramshackle wooden maze. Rather than cobbles or crushed rock underfoot, a thick layer of straw had been trampled into the muddy lanes to keep them from swallowing passersby whole. The air reeked of open sewers and rot, and I went the short distance from the carriage with one hand gripping Henry’s arm and the other holding a handkerchief over my nose. Four footmen remained behind, armed with pistols and lanterns blazing to await our return. Or come to our aid if need be. In the dark of night, even darker shadows huddled in stairwells and under overhangs in search of shelter from the constant drizzle. Someone groaned and retched violently just out of sight in an adjoining alleyway. A baby cried, its fragile voice passing through the thin walls.
We followed Ellen through a doorway. Henry lifted the lantern to illuminate a single room with one small window. A cursory look showed a wooden chest and two chairs at one end of the room, and a pile of dingy blankets at the other. No fire burned to ward against the cold. Lowering the handkerchief, I gagged once, realizing too late that it smelled worse inside than out. Plink...Plink...Plink...Water dripped from the ceiling.
A feeble whisper floated in the darkness. “Help me...”
“Who’s there,” I asked, my hand tightening on Henry’s arm.
No one answered.
Something clinked in the far corner near the chest. Henry started at once toward the noise. Light spilled over a man slumped on the floor, his back pressed against the wall and legs splayed out in front. Glassy eyes stared past us, and he whimpered from the intrusion. A bottle lay just out of reach as though it had slipped from his grasp. Reddish brown smudges rimmed his mouth, smeared over layers of dirt and grime.
Henry squatted next to the man and picked up the bottle. “Gin,” he said in disgust, holding it to his nose. “The man’s dead drunk.” He tossed the bottle aside and stood.
“It’s the only way to make him stop once the madness sets in,” Ellen said, a step behind us. “Cate tells me to get him a quart whenever I see it coming on. But it moved like a phantom tonight, and I didn’t know till it were too late.”