He made his way over to the indicated place. It was on the other side of the Serpentine, hidden by a cluster of trees, and it took him three-quarters of an hour to make his way through the crowds. Thankfully, he hadn’t been misled. There were shouts here agitating for the vote for all, not just for working men.
When he broke through the crowd, he saw a large group of women. They were clustered thickly together, arms joined. There, right in the middle of them—
For the first time since he’d awoken that morning, Oliver felt a deep sense of relief. He strode forward. “Free!”
Before he could reach her, a wall of women intervened, arms linked. They glared at him. A dark-haired lady of forty narrowed eyes at him and wagged her finger in his direction.
“None of that,” she said sharply. “There’s no men beyond this point.”
“I was just—” He gestured. “I just wanted to talk to her. To Frederica Marshall.”
“Well, you can’t.”
“Free!” Oliver called.
“Stop it, now.” The two women nearest him took a step forward, eyes glinting in menace.
“Free!” he said again, waving more desperately.
“Off with you,” one of them said. “Or must we ask someone to remove you?”
“No, wait, I just—”
It was at that moment that Free turned.
“Wait!” Free called. She dropped the arms of the women next to her and came over. “Don’t send him off,” she said. “He’s my brother.”
“So?” The dark-haired woman looked unimpressed. “You wouldn’t want to know what my brother’s been willing to do.”
“He won’t harm me,” she said. “He’s just being ridiculous and protective. Give me a few moments and I’ll make him stand down.”
Oliver snorted, but when the women in front of him looked at him with narrowed eyes, he raised his hands. “She’s right,” he said. “I only want her to be safe.”
The women exchanged glances—but then with a shrug of their shoulders, they unlinked their arms. Free stepped between them and linked her arms with theirs.
“Oliver,” she said, in a tone of disgust. “What are you doing here? It’s not safe.”
He stared at her in disbelief. She always did this to him—made him feel that his world was upside down and backward. “What am I doing here?” He looked around. “It’s not safe? I’m not a girl of sixteen, Free. I didn’t sneak out of my home in the middle of the night, all alone, to make my way to London.”
“Yes,” Free said. “I want to know what you are doing here. You likely left your home in the middle of the morning, and I don’t see you with a chaperone.”
“This isn’t about me.” He looked her in the eye. “It’s about your coming to the most dangerous place in all of England, one where violence is threatened.”
She cocked her head and looked around. “Oh,” she said slowly. “Violence. I see.” She raised her eyebrow at a street-seller hawking his wares directly behind them. “What’s he going to do, hurl pies at me?”
“Besides,” Oliver said, ignoring this inconvenient aspect of reality, “you’re sixteen. I can’t believe you took the train alone.”
“You keep using the word alone,” Free said. “But you told me once that I should seek answers before arriving at conclusions. Mary Hartwell drove me in her father’s cart to the station. We took the train together. And because we’d communicated our intention to participate to the women’s chapter of the Reform League, we were met at the station. I’ve never been alone, not once.” She jiggled her arms. “Do I look alone?”
“Yes, well, but still…” He glanced to her side, at the dark-haired woman who was pretending not to listen to their conversation, and then to the other side where the blonde was openly grinning.
“From four in the morning until six, I’ve been with this group,” Free explained. “We discussed the practicalities of the rally. Women may not be as strong as men, but we can be formidable in number.”
“I have to admit that your friends make an effective barrier. Still, there was some risk—”
“We had procedures,” Free said. “We discussed them this morning. Every one has two women watching out for her, and watches out for two other women in turn. That way, we know everyone’s safe at all times. We don’t wander off. We don’t let anyone into the perimeter.” She cast Oliver a hard glance. “If one of us is arrested, we’ve all committed to being taken to the station.”
“Free.” He rubbed his eyes.
“Anna Marie Higgins—she’s the lady over there in the sailor hat—she’s been taken to the station thirteen times already.” Oliver glanced to his right.
Miss Higgins didn’t look like a hardened suffragette. She was dressed in a lovely, fashionable sky-blue dress. She’d topped this off with a sailor’s hat, one that she’d adorned with bright blue ribbons that waved in the breeze.
A passing man raised his fist in the air. “Votes for all!” he said.
Miss Higgins blew him a kiss.
The Heiress Effect (Brothers Sinister #2)
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