The great hulking prison ship loomed in the distance, the violent cries and shouted expletives that carried on the wind from it chilling Grace’s blood.

Marcus’s hand held tight to Grace’s shoulder as Crow and the others led the way along the wharf.

“You are a fool to trust me with your life,” Marcus whispered in her ear. “You are smarter than this. You never should have come to see me.”

“I was desperate,” Grace replied, anger rising in her throat. “And you are a true friend, Marcus. Besides, you lied on my behalf.”

“Though it is hard to imagine, you are in even more dire straits than I believed you to be, if I am your most trustworthy of friends,” he replied. “And what makes you think I lied? We are on our way to meet the King, are we not?”

Grace searched his face for the goodness and respectability she knew existed within him. “You will not betray me. You will help me. And when the Kingsmen are destroyed, you will be free to build a life for yourself in America. To practice law. To marry and have children.”

“Is that why you are risking your life? For my benefit?”

She continued to watch him. Had she not been looking so intently, she might have missed the brief flicker of pain in his eyes. “No. I ask this of you first and foremost because it is in my best interest—and that of the man I love. Though I am no less happy that you, too, will be given the chance at a new life outside the gang.”

Crow looked back and scowled. “Hurry it up, you two.”

Marcus gently shoved Grace forward to please the man. “You always were the most honest individual of my acquaintance, Grace. A trait I would normally appreciate—though I find it rather difficult to do so at the moment.”

“Mr. Clark is not who you believe him to be,” Grace offered, treading softly. “He is a good man, Marcus. I hope, as my friend, that will give you some comfort.”

“It does,” he replied, then fell silent.

The wind picked up, carrying more cries from the Resurrection. Grace waited for Marcus to respond.

“Well,” he said at last, a measure of defeat in his voice. “If you dared to trust me, it must mean you truly believe I will do the right thing.”

Grace smiled with relief. “I’ve always known you were the sort of man who would act honorably when given the chance.”

“I would not claim a victory just yet,” he warned her. “First, tell me what you need.”

“Understand that I have no other choice, Marcus,” she began, the stale river air whipping about her. “I would never ask you to put yourself in harm’s way.”

“But you are about to, aren’t you?” he asked somberly.

Grace squeezed her fingers together until they ached. “I need you to play along with Crow as long as is needed. And when he decides what to do with me, you must find Langdon. You must find him and fight by his side.”

His gaze searched Grace’s eyes as if attempting to read her soul. “Why are you here, Grace? You had planned to leave London—to disappear and never return. Do you remember when you told me of a favorite spot in Devon where your family once holidayed and where you hoped to return? I would not have betrayed your secret, Grace. Not for anything in the world.”

“Marcus,” she replied, his words bringing her close to tears. “I still believe in that life—with all of my heart, I do. But I was given the opportunity to destroy the Kingsmen. And now I am offering you the same chance. Help me, Marcus. Help me make them pay for taking a young woman’s life, full of dreams for the future, and turning it into a nightmare even God himself would cower at. For stripping a man’s soul of hope until he believes all that remains is spoiled and unworthy. He kills. He maims. He destroys. Isn’t it time we stopped thinking on what the King can do and began to ponder what he cannot? The King cannot stop those he’s wronged from coming for him. Let’s see if he cannot stop us from succeeding, too.”

“Did she get the best of you, Mitchell?” Crow shouted, a sharp, broken laugh punctuating his joke. The rest of the Kingsmen joined in, a chorus of rude, rough chortles ricocheting off the growing wind.

“Please, Grace, do not ask this of me,” Marcus said, shoving her ahead of him. “I want nothing more than for you to have the justice you deserve. But if it means endangering your life? Let us leave, right now. We will find a cottage in the wilds of Devon and never think on London again.”

Grace tucked her chin and looked down, fearful Crow might see the concern creasing her forehead. “You know we cannot, Marcus—I cannot. I must see this through. With or without you.”

Marcus quickened his step and came to walk beside her. He nodded, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. “I would have regretted not having asked, Grace. And I fear I am overburdened with regrets. Could not fit one more in my pocket if I tried.”

Marcus looked again at the prison ship, then back at Grace. “And if the King is not on board? What then? I cannot guarantee your safety. Even if he is, there is no telling whether he will question you and keep you alive or question you and have you killed.”

“Not odds I would have wished for,” Grace answered honestly. “But I can live with them for the chance to take down the Kingsmen. Can you?”

Marcus scanned their surroundings, his brow furrowing as his eyes settled on the prison ship. “I do hope that man of yours is as trustworthy as you believe him to be.”

“He will come, Marcus. That I would be willing to bet my life on.”

“You already have,” he replied grimly, then grabbed her hand in his and set off for the Resurrection.