ELIZ A WAS STILL A SLEEP WHEN HENRY SLIPPED into her room. She was nestled deep into her feather bed, and he stood there for a while just looking at her, reflecting on all he had learned in the past hour.
The pale morning sunlight filtering through the heavy drapes gently illuminated what could be seen of Eliza’s face. She seemed so peaceful in her sleep, so young and innocent, and so very beautiful. He shuddered to think what would have happened to her if he hadn’t found her on the road into Hampstead.
But he had found her, and she was safe, and somehow that knowledge calmed him, enabled him to think. The implications of what Daisie had told him and what he now knew to be true were horrendous. Astor was indeed the spy De Sade and a monster.
Astor had been Henry’s nemesis since Astor had done his best to make Cecilia his mistress. Despite Astor’s status, Cecilia had taken Henry to bed. And when they ran away together, they thought they had seen the last of Astor.
Not so. A year later, Astor had been at his father’s house when Henry had come begging for help with his infant daughter in his arms. His father had advised him to “take his bastard to the next workhouse where it belonged.” And then he had forbidden his wife, Henry’s mother, to help them.
Henry had always felt guilty for the difficulties he had caused Cecilia. But now it seemed he might have saved her from a far worse fate.
“Oh merciful saints!” Henry went ice-cold with dread. Astor knew about Emily! And he knew how much Henry cared about her. Henry had even turned away from his father because of her.
Emily was barely twelve years old, but she already looked like her mother: blond, blue-eyed, and delicate. Henry refused to even think about what that monster could do to her; that way lay madness.
Thank God Emily was protected in the ducal household. He would write to his cousin to warn him of the possible danger. But she couldn’t live sheltered at Avon forever. Eventually she would be attending finishing school to help her find her place among the elite, and then she would come to town for her season.
Grim determination settled over Henry as he watched the peacefully sleeping Eliza, her need for protection as palpable to him as his daughter’s. He had saved Eliza and she was now under his protection, but it had been sheer luck he had been in the right place at the right time.
His chances of protecting Emily were much better since he had stumbled across this information and could see the threat clearly. He realized the value of anticipating the events of the future, no matter how frightening. Figuring out a conundrum and knowing when to take action was something the Old Man had taught him well.
Astor would have to die, one way or another, before Emily left Avon.
HIS DECISION MADE, HENRY TURNED his attention back to the woman before him. His woman, for now.
Eliza was lying on her stomach, both her hands resting next to her head on the snowy white pillow. Her hair had escaped its braid and fell all over her face. Only a sleep-rosy cheek was visible, and one of her curls stirred with every breath she took. The simple sign of life was oddly reassuring to Henry. Warmth, peace, and beauty—these were the perfect antidotes to what he had just encountered and what he would have to do. He needed to touch her.
Henry pulled off his jacket, toed off his shoes, and quietly made his way over to the window to pull back the heavy curtains and let in the pale winter light. Then he slipped into bed beside Eliza and pulled her warm sleeping form into his arms.
She stirred and turned toward him so she could nuzzle into his chest, but did not open her eyes. “You’re here.”
Henry stuck his nose into the riot of curls surrounding her head and inhaled deeply. “Good morning, my sweet.”
She rubbed her face along his chest to his shoulder and opened her eyes just a crack. “Do I need to get up?”
Henry pulled her head back onto his chest and threaded his fingers into her hair to hold her in place. “Not yet. Just let me hold you for a while.”
Eliza snuggled closer to him, instinctively trying to give him comfort. “What’s wrong, Henry?”
His arms tightened around her. “I talked to Daisie just now.”
“Oh, bad?”
He sighed heavily into her hair. “Bloody awful. Incomprehensible really, what that man did to her.”
“How is she?”
“Wounded. Ashamed. Afraid William would turn from her if ever he found out. Afraid for William if he insisted on avenging her. Confused by her own reactions and so very hurt, I don’t know if anything will ever be able to take away that hurt.”
Eliza drew her arms tighter around him. “Probably not. Some things cannot be forgotten, even if they are forgiven eventually. But she’s strong.”
Henry kissed her hair and stroked a gentle hand up and down her back. Her kind of wisdom came from experience, and Henry wished he could have shielded her from it. “And she is determined! In fact, she is quite a woman. William is a very lucky man.”
Eliza smiled and leaned back in his arms so she could look at him. “Are we going after the lord then, too?”
“Yes. I’m almost certain the lord who tortured Daisie is the same man who did this to countless French girls and sold military secrets to the French. I could never prove it before, but now I think I can.”
Eliza turned into Henry’s shoulder and took a long inhale, drawing in his scent. Coming up for air, she said, “Good. Daisie needs someone to fight that battle for her.”
He kissed her forehead and looked at her very seriously for a while. “I’m not just doing it for Daisie and justice.”
“What do you mean?”
Henry braced himself. “This man holds a grudge against me and he knows about Emily. I will not be able to ensure her safety until he no longer roams free.”
Eliza pushed up onto her elbow, clearly troubled by this revelation.
“This will be very dangerous and I will need all the help I can get, but because of this new and additional danger, I’m not at all sure you or Daisie should come to Hampstead.”
Eliza’s brow furrowed. “It seems to me this will be most dangerous for you.” She shook her head, then thought better of it and shrugged. “But I said I would follow your lead. I still want to go, but if you think it’s too dangerous … Is there any other way for me to help?”
Henry was pleased with her restraint—it almost swayed him in favor of taking her along after all. In spite of, or maybe because of, all she’d been through, Eliza had an inner strength in the face of injustice that continued to impress him. “Will you have breakfast with me and my friends so you can tell them about Hampstead and we can plan? I would invite Daisie as well, but I don’t think she is in a fit state to tell any aspect of her story to strangers at present.”
“Of course I will,” she agreed earnestly. “I want Hobbs off the streets, and if this lord is doing to other girls what he did to Daisie, then he must be stopped, especially if he is a danger to your Emily. Now that we know, we simply can’t stand by and let him continue.”
Determination marked Henry’s countenance. “Quite right.”
Eliza’s expression turned more hopeful. “Once he is brought to justice, perhaps Daisie will be able to feel safe in this world again.”
Henry dipped his head to kiss her tenderly, then stroked her hair out of her face and marveled at the compassion in her beautiful brown eyes.
Daisie wasn’t the only one who would feel safer in this world without Astor in it.
Eliza continually impressed him. He had made her his mistress, but she was also his friend, and now she would be his partner. She was barely eighteen, but he had respect for her, and that was more than he could say of any of the women he had bedded in the past.
Henry pulled her back down into his arms, and they held each other for a little while longer, until a knock at the door heralded the arrival of the requested hot chocolate.
LEAVING ELIZA TO HER BATH, Henry went downstairs to tend to his correspondence. He had just read through the last of the morning’s mail when he heard Robert’s jovial baritone from the foyer.
Henry had hoped for a few minutes alone with Robert to gain his cooperation as a magistrate in Hampstead. It wouldn’t do to rely on his status as trusted friend to get his help. If Robert knew all the facts and deemed it necessary to take action, he would make the mission his own, and Henry had learned a long time ago that Robert’s help was invaluable.
He strode into the foyer with his hand outstretched in welcome. “Robert! A good morning to you.”
Robert shook his hand with a broad grin. “The same to you, Henry! I admit to being curious about this bit of action you mentioned.”
Henry gestured his friend toward the breakfast room and signaled the footman on duty to bring them coffee. “Come have a cup of coffee with me whilst we wait for our adventurer.”
The breakfast room was a warm, sunny room done in various shades of yellow from butter to sunflower, and also had the additional benefit of being at the back of the house where the garden was surrounded by a tall wall. It assured no one who was not trusted would come within earshot, or even sight of them, during their meeting.
As Henry poured for his friend, he asked, “Are you aware that Eliza, the girl I found half-dead on the road, is from The Cat And Fiddle just outside of Hampstead?”
Robert’s eyebrows rose in question. “No, I wasn’t. That used to be a decent inn to go for a pint and a game of darts, but the proprietor died and the widow let it go to pot.”
Henry suppressed the urge to growl at his friend. “That’s not quite what happened, but for now, let’s just say Eliza is the daughter of the innkeeper you knew. She and her mother went through hell after her father’s death.”
Robert held up his hands in silent apology. “You can tell me the entire story another time, just give me the facts for now.”
Always to-the-point, Robert could ever be depended upon to consider the facts and form an opinion based on the rationale of the situation. Henry took a sip of his coffee and gathered himself.
“The facts as they are known to us are as follows: I encountered Eliza on the road into Hampstead in mid-November. Her stepfather had sold her to a man named Wilkins, and her refusal to go with him had earned her a brutal beating. She was locked into the cellar but managed to escape up the coal chute.”
At the mention of Wilkins, Robert’s expression grew thoughtful, but he let Henry continue.
“I saw her on the road, realized she was seriously hurt, and offered my help. She had nowhere else to go, so I took her here. A month later, once she was finally well enough to leave the house, she was snatched right out of Covent Garden market.”
Robert’s brows rose in astonishment as Henry continued.
“Thankfully Eliza managed a bloodcurdling scream before she was dragged into an alley, so we could give chase. It turns out Wilkins had dealings with a man named Hobbs. He helped Wilkins find out where Eliza was. Apparently, once it was clear she was under my roof, this Wilkins assumed she was no longer a virgin and sold her to Hobbs, who is a well-known pimp and was all too happy to steal her from me since I rescued one of his ‘pigeons’ some years ago.”
Robert knew who Henry referred to and could no longer contain himself. “Bloody hell, the same swine who stole Dix’s sister and pressed her into prostitution? And his name is Hobbs? I know of some cretin named Hobbs, who I’m certain offers girls at The Silver Fox, but so far I have failed to catch him in flagrante.”
Raising his brows, Henry waited for Robert to catch up. Robert did not disappoint.
“The same Hobbs, then.”
Henry nodded. “Fortunately, once Hobbs found himself eye-toeye with William and me, he gave in almost immediately and walked away from his deal with Wilkins, whom I paid off later.”
Robert stirred two heaped spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee and connected a few more dots. “And Wilkins is the miller? A rare brute whose second wife died not too long ago, under suspicious circumstances, I might add. But there is nothing I can do if it’s the husband who is doing the beating.”
Henry nodded once more, barely containing his disgust. “The same. Eliza says Wilkins and her stepfather, Horace, are best friends, birds of a feather she calls them. She knew about Wilkins’s wives and had no doubt she was running for her life when she climbed out that coal chute.”
Robert smiled at the pride in his friend’s voice when he talked about this girl. “She sounds like quite the woman.”
Henry smiled to himself. “She is a mere slip of a girl and only eighteen, but she has more backbone than I have ever seen in a woman. You will meet her in a short while. What I need to ask you, my friend, is whether you will help us go after Hobbs on your turf, since he is untouchable within London city limits.”
Robert’s response was immediate and definitive. “It will be my unmitigated pleasure. Never had much patience for bribery.”
“Good show!” Henry exclaimed. “I may also need your help in dealing with the stepfather, but there is much more to this.” Henry trailed off, looking at Robert meaningfully. Robert tried to will him to go on, but Henry only stared right back at him, making Robert near crazy with curiosity. “I shall wait for Allen and Eliza.”
Robert held his gaze for a short while longer, then grinned. “I suppose all will become clear in good time?”
The line had been a running joke between them when working together to unravel the secrets the French had tried so hard to keep out of their hands. Henry returned the grin, as they fell right back into their old rhythm, then grew somber. “You have no idea how right you are. You and I have been puzzling over this particular murky problem for the better part of ten years.”
Robert had a sudden sinking feeling he knew exactly where this was going. “You have my undivided attention.”
Just then the door opened and Eliza entered, urging both men to their feet. Henry moved toward Eliza, took her hand, kissed it, and turned toward Robert to introduce her. “Eliza, this is my friend Robert Pemberton, Viscount Fairly. Robert, this is Eliza Broad, my houseguest.”
Eliza smiled nervously at the thought of addressing an actual lord, but managed to sink into a graceful curtsy. “My lord, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Robert stepped forward, took her hand to raise her out of the curtsy, then bowed over it, flawless in his observance of the polite pleasantries. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Broad.”
They assessed each other for a moment. Robert found himself pleasantly surprised by her steady gaze and frank appraisal, while Eliza couldn’t help but admire the viscount’s undeniable beauty. He reminded her of a picture of the Archangel Michael in full battle armor—he was everything she would have expected a true blue blood to be. But she also found his perfect manners cold and his classic good looks intimidating, and so she stepped closer to Henry and the comfort of his familiarity.
“Call me Eliza if you would, my lord.”
Henry’s hand at the small of her back had made her brave, but she blushed furiously nevertheless. Robert had neither missed her step into Henry nor her blush. For once Henry had managed to get himself involved with a woman who was loyal as well as innocent, and had backbone. Knowing how unprecedented this was and how important it could be for Henry, he smiled his first true smile since Eliza had entered. “Only if you will call me Robert.”
The viscount’s reply deepened Eliza’s blush, but the smile accompanying the offer prompted her to reassess her judgment of the man. He was not cold; he was cautious. He had reserved judgment, but somehow she had proven herself worthy, and now that he had accepted her, she knew without a doubt he would be a friend to her if ever she needed one. She bowed her head to indicate she would indeed call him by his Christian name, then turned to Henry. “Didn’t you say you were expecting two friends?”
“That would be me.”
At the sound of the smooth, cultured voice, Eliza turned to the door, where Allen had appeared. The stranger was clad in riding attire made entirely of soft, tan doeskin, not just his breeches but also his vest and the short riding jacket. The unusual attire brought out the moss green of his eyes and set off his sun-kissed skin and the brown of his wavy hair against the white of his cravat.
“Allen Strathem at your service.”
He bowed over her hand, and she curtsied, observing the pleasantries, but when she looked up at him, his eyes sparkled with silent laughter. She liked him instantly.