CHAPTER10
He had done it.
The invitation had been issued to the Earl of Haldringham. The trap had been neatly laid. The earl would have no notion of what was awaiting him until it was too late.
All Hart needed to do now was to bide his time and wait.
He should feel relieved. Pleased with himself for taking the next step in his plan. Soon, he would have the earl precisely where he wanted him, and all the bargaining power that went along with it. He would have answers and be closer to finding Loge. Finding his missing brother had been the greatest force propelling him through each day ever since Logan’s disappearance.
Why, then, did he feel more weighed down and burdened than ever?
Disgusted with himself, Hart was too caught in his madly whirling thoughts to take note of the footsteps rushing toward him in the dimly lit corridor until he had nearly crashed into his brother.
“What the bleeding hell are you doing, running about the halls like a Bedlamite?” he snarled, his anger with himself getting the better of him.
Wolf glowered, raking his fingers through his hair. “We’ve another problem.”
“Bradleys again?” Hart frowned. “Hopefully not another one gone to Rothisbones just beyond our door this time.”
“It ain’t the Bradleys,” Wolf said, his voice grim. “It’s Lily and Lady Emma.”
His gut clenched, fear slicing through him. “What the devil has happened now?”
“Don’t know. I was on my way to find out. One of the lads tore in, telling me there was a problem in the alley.”
Fucking hell.
Hart’s lungs seized in his chest. “I’ll go with you,” he bit out, moving before he had even finished his sentence.
His heart was pounding with a combination of fear and fury. If something had happened to either his sister or to Lady Emma, he would…Christ. No, he could not bear to contemplate the thought. He had to find them.
Now.
He and Wolf hastened to the door leading to the back alley, where merchants plied their wares. Hart was first to rush outside, into the gray, cold, sunless day. A steady rain had begun to fall, and the wind whipped at him mercilessly, but he did not feel the lash of the cold.
Relief hit him when his gaze lit on the familiar forms of Lily and Lady Emma, huddled near a hulking Hugh, who looked fierce and angry enough to tear any man apart who ventured near. Emma’s gaze met his over the guard’s massive shoulder, her eyes wide. Her cheeks were streaked with dirt, as was her gown, the hem of which was muddied and torn.
“Hart!” she cried, dashing around the guard before running into his outstretched arms.
Had he ever beheld a more welcome sight? Hart did not think he had. He caught her against him, grunting as the force of their connection jostled his wounded side.
“Em.” He pressed a kiss to her cool temple, noting she was not wearing a bonnet. “What are you doing out here? What has happened? Are either of you hurt?”
He had supposed she and Lily would be doing something simple and calm and safe, like looking over the bleeding ledgers. Not gadding about the alleyways together.
“No,” she reassured him. “I am not hurt, and neither is Lily. I tripped and fell in my borrowed boots, but we are both unharmed, thank heavens.”
Thank God indeed. If something ill had befallen either of them, he would have been devastated. Somehow, Lady Emma had become important to him, he acknowledged. He would be lying to himself to think his sole interest in her was as his pawn.
Last night, bedding her, had changed everything, whether he liked it or not. And he very much did not like it. Not one bleeding whit.
He closed his eyes briefly against a stinging rush of gratitude. “What the devil are the two of you doing out here? Don’t you know the dangers awaiting you in the bleeding shadows? Anyone could be lingering, waiting to do Christ only knows what manner of things.”
He did not want to contemplate it. The truth was, the East End was a dangerous place filled with men capable of committing vile, heinous acts. And despite the efforts they went to, attempting to keep The Sinner’s Palace as free of pickpockets and other villains as possible, this was not a place for young ladies to wander alone.
“Lily and I went to the foundling hospital,” Emma said, her arms wound tightly around his neck. “On our return home, a footpad approached us and demanded Lily’s purse.”
Bleeding hell.
Still burrowing his face in Emma’s silken, gold hair, Hart glared at Lily, who appeared equally unharmed, if not a bit startled. “And what do you think you’re doing, sister, wandering without protection? On foot, no bleeding less. And taking a bleeding lady with you.”
His arm tightened on Emma’s waist as he thought about what could have befallen her. Belatedly, it occurred to him that he was not meant to know Emma was a lady. He hoped she would not take note of his slip. He had been too worked into a frenzy to take care with his words.