A Kiss In The Dark (31 page)

“That’s it,” he gritted out, the tone of his voice leaving no doubt as to the strength of his anger. “I’ve ’ad enough. Pack your things and get out.”

When Jack didn’t reply but merely rose and stood there unsteadily, Peter took a menacing step toward him, his hands doubled into fists at his sides. “Now, Jack.”

“Oh, I’m going,” Jack assured him, returning his glower.

He sent a look full of resentment in Emily’s direction. “I’m tired of ’anging around ’ere, anyway. But I won’t forget this. Any of it.”

With his words still ringing hollowly in the stillness, he turned and sauntered off, disappearing into the gloom.

As soon as the older boy was gone, some of the rigidity seemed to seep out of Peter’s body, and he turned to Emily, reaching out to grasp her shoulders. “Are you all right? Did ’e ’urt you?”

Was
she all right? She wasn’t certain. Now that her ordeal was over, she had to admit to feeling shaky, and when she tried to speak all that emerged was a quavering whimper. “Oh, Peter.”

Wrapping his arms around her in a soothing hug, Peter sighed and rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m so sorry, Emily. I should ’ave thrown that bloody rotter out a long time ago.”

He felt so warm and safe, and Emily took a second to soak in the comfort of his hold before speaking. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I what?”

“Throw him out.”

“I don’t know. I suppose I felt sorry for ’im. I’ve never turned away anyone who needed ’elp, and I know ’e’s ’ad a ’ard life.” She felt him tense against her. “But tonight ’e went too far. What ’e did …”

“You know about Benji’s book?”

“’E woke me up and told me. That’s ’ow I knew you were out ’ere. But that’s not what I meant. Jack could ’ave—”

He stumbled to a halt, seeming unable to continue, and Emily pulled a little away from him, holding his eyes with her own. “I’m fine, thanks to you.”

He offered her a faint smile, but it quickly vanished when he noticed that she was shivering and clutching closed the gaping folds of her shirt. “Let’s get you inside and see if we can find you another shirt. You’re freezing, Angel.”

His words sent a surprised thrill through her, and she paused for a moment, touching his arm. “Why did you call me that?”

“What?”

“Angel.”

He shrugged, but evaded her eyes. “I suppose I’ve ’eard Benji call you that often enough that it’s rubbed off.” One corner of his mouth curved upward in a slight smile. “Besides, you sort of seem like one to me.”

The almost shyly offered compliment warmed her from the inside out. But as he steered her toward the door of the hideout with a hand at her back, she couldn’t help but wonder whether they had truly seen the last of Jack Barlow, or whether he would be back to make them all pay.

A
sudden commotion had Tristan jerking upright in bed early the next morning.

Bleary-eyed and disoriented after only a few hours’ sleep, he blinked against the light that seeped in through the curtains and glanced at Deirdre, who was looking up at the ceiling as if she expected it to cave in on them.

“What on earth?” she gasped.

When the noise only seemed to increase in volume, she immediately lunged from the bed and hurried toward the door, scooping up her nightgown and shrugging into it as she went. Tristan paused only long enough to retrieve a pair of breeches from the back of an overstuffed chair and slide into them before joining her in the corridor.

“I told you her ladyship is still asleep.” It was Mrs. Godfrey, her voice ringing with displeasure as it echoed in the foyer below. “She’s had a hard few days, she has, and I’m not about to disturb her this early for the likes of you. Now, on your way!”

There was a loud yip from Sally, and the terrier’s paws could be heard scrabbling across the parquet floor before another voice piped up, sounding vaguely familiar. “You don’t understand! I ’as to see ’er! I ’ave a message for ’er what’s very important!”

Tristan came to stand next to Deirdre at the head of the stairs and peered down over the banister. For a moment, all he could see was the housekeeper’s stout figure framed in the doorway as she blocked the path of whoever was trying to enter. But when she shifted slightly, the small form outside on the steps came into view.

Deirdre apparently recognized her at the same time he did. “Jenna?” Her expression concerned, she descended the stairs with Tristan at her heels. “It’s all right, Mrs. Godfrey. You can let her in. I know her.”

The servant gave a stiff nod and stepped aside to allow the girl into the entry hall. Jenna eyed both her and the still barking Sally balefully for a moment before brushing past them and approaching Deirdre.

“Dodger Dan sent me, m’lady. ’E needs to see you right away.”

Tristan felt an instant surge of hope. It seemed Deirdre did as well, for she whirled to face him with obvious excitement. “He must have news of Emily!”

Before Tristan had a chance to answer, Deirdre turned back to the child. “Where is he?”

“You’re to meet ’im at the Jolly Roger, m’lady.”

“Very well. We’ll get ready and be down in a few minutes.” Without waiting for Tristan, she bounded back up the stairs.

He turned and started to follow, but as he did so, he noticed Mrs. Godfrey staring at his bare chest with startled eyes, and he couldn’t keep himself from sweeping her a mocking bow. She gave a haughty sniff before picking up a newly washed and brushed Sally and marching away.

With a wink at Jenna, he continued on up the steps.

Deirdre had returned to his chamber and was standing in the middle of the room with her hands planted on her hips, surveying the floor in a disgruntled fashion.

“Now where has it gotten to?” she muttered, her foot tapping agitatedly.

Fairly certain of what she was looking for, he plucked her chemise from underneath the edge of the bed and handed it to her. “You know, I don’t think your housekeeper likes me very much.”

She blushed and clutched the undergarment to her chest, not quite meeting his eyes. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you. She’s just—”

“Overly protective where you’re concerned?” he finished, crossing his arms.

“Yes. Well, er …” Her cheeks reddened even more, and she hastened for the door. “I’ll just get dressed and meet you downstairs, shall I?”

“Wait, Deirdre.” He couldn’t let her go yet. Not until he knew for certain she had no regrets over what had occurred the evening before. He didn’t think he could stand it if she did.

She halted with her hand on the doorknob, and he stalked toward her, willing her to meet his gaze.

“Are you truly all right, Deirdre? I didn’t hurt you last night or—”

“Oh, no!” She swung about, her sincerity there to read in her face. “I’m fine. Really.” She stopped and ducked her head. “It was perfect. All of it.”

Reaching out, he caught her chin in his hand and lifted her face to plant a quick kiss on her lips. “Good. I hope that means you won’t be adverse to trying it again?”

He had to restrain a chuckle at her stunned expression. Her mouth worked as if she was trying to speak, but no sound emerged. Finally, she just gave a helpless nod and ducked out of the room.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Tristan let his smile bloom. His lot definitely seemed to be improving. He might finally be close to locating Emily, and if he had his way, last night had just been the first of many he would spend in such a way with Deirdre.

Was
she all right?

Deirdre asked herself the question as Tristan helped her down from the coach in front of the Jolly Roger a while later.

Admittedly, she was a bit tired, and her body felt sore in places she hadn’t previously known she possessed, but all in all she supposed she’d come through rather well for her first time. With the possible exception of her heart, of course.

Seeing Jenna in her front hallway this morning had brought home to her how right she’d been about how abruptly her time with Tristan could end. Not that she wasn’t happy to think Emily might have been found, but the idea of saying good-bye to the man who’d made love to her last night, the man she’d so recently realized she loved, was wrenching, to say the least.

Shaking off her sudden melancholy, she looked over at Jenna as she clambered down from the carriage to join them.

“Stay here with Cullen, Jenna,” she instructed, giving the child’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll be back soon.”

The girl’s face wrinkled with displeasure. “Oh, but I wanted to come, too. I want to ’elp. Dan said I could.”

“Jenna McLean, you are not setting foot inside a tavern! Do you understand? Your mother would never forgive me if she found out I allowed such a thing.”

“But—”

Deirdre gave her a reprimanding look that brought an immediate halt to her protest. “There will be no argument. I appreciate that you want to help, and I promise we’ll find a way for you to do so, but for now you are to wait right here. And if you don’t behave, Cullen has my permission to take you straight home.”

Grumbling under her breath, Jenna crossed her arms and leaned back against the carriage, her expression sullen.

With a glance at her coachman, who nodded in response, Deirdre gestured to Tristan and led the way into the tavern.

Harry met them just inside the door, bearing a tray piled high with dirty plates and glasses.

“’E’s in the back.” Before moving off toward the bar, the tavern-keeper jerked his head in the direction of a solitary figure seated at a table in the far corner.

Deirdre took a deep breath and started across the room with Tristan close behind her. With every step, her hope and anticipation grew. This could be it, the culmination of all they’d prayed for. The search for Emily could finally be over.

Dan rose as she approached, and he indicated the chair opposite him with a slight bow. “Good morning, DeeDee. You got ’ere quicker than I expected.”

Struggling to restrain the urge to grab the boxer by his lapels and shake him until he revealed all he had discovered, she reined in her wildly teetering emotions and seated herself while Tristan held her chair. “As I’m sure you can understand, I was most anxious for your news. Have you located Emily?”

Dan eyed Tristan, who remained standing. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid not.”

His words sent a wave of disappointment crashing over her. Next to her, she felt Tristan stiffen, as if absorbing a blow. Dear God, they’d been so certain …

“’Owever,” Dan continued, “I ’ave something that I thought might be of interest to you.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew an object and offered it to her with an expectant air.

Deirdre caught a flash of gold and leaned forward to examine the item draped across his palm. “A locket?”

“One of me men got it off a street urchin who admitted lifting it from a young lady who matched the description of the girl you’re looking for.”

She took the delicate piece of jewelry from him, studying with renewed excitement the inscription engraved on the heart-shaped locket.

“For my wife, Victoria, with love.” Turning to Tristan, she held it out to him. “Do you recognize it?”

He accepted the necklace, his eyes lighting as they met Deirdre’s. “Yes. It was my mother’s. My father must have given it to Emily.”

She faced Dan once again. “Did the urchin notice where she went? Did he—”

The boxer interrupted her with a shake of his head. “I questioned ’im thoroughly. ’E ’as no idea where she is. All ’e did was snatch ’er bag. ’E didn’t pay any attention to where she went after that.”

Tristan’s fingers closed around the locket so tightly that Deirdre could see the whiteness of his knuckles. “Then how does this help us?”

Dan surveyed the younger man with shrewd eyes. “I thought ’er family might like to ’ave it back. And I wanted you to know that one of the men I’ve ’ad trailing Flynt’s boys reported back this morning to let me know ’e’d found out why Barnaby is looking for your little friend.” He glanced at Deirdre. “Apparently, she saw ’im off a bloke. Someone who double-crossed ’im.”

Deirdre’s blood ran cold. So, she’d been right after all. Tristan’s sister had been a witness to Barnaby’s latest crime.