Chapter Three

C hapter T hree

L ucy wasn't certain what was happening here, and she was definitely not certain who these people were, but she was absolutely certain that this was a nightmare she desperately needed to wake from.

She just wasn't exactly certain how.

She let herself be pulled to an upright position from her chair, watched and heard the chair be pulled closer to the fire, and let herself be sat back into it again. Her fingers were cold, her toes were numb, her legs felt heavy, and her head positively swam. A glass was shoved into her hands, and she sipped from it, immediately despising the perfumed taste and the painful burning she felt in her throat and grimacing at it.

"That's disgusting," she wheezed, pushing the glass into someone else's hands. "I think my chest might explode."

A low rumble of laughter made her grimace fade a touch, but she still couldn't seem to swallow enough to rid herself of the taste or sensation.

"It can have that effect," the voice told her, sounding wry and amused, "but I've yet to meet anyone who has actually had their chest explode. You do get used to it."

"No, thank you." She shuddered, followed by a cold chill down her spine. She inhaled deeply, which burned like the devil, then managed an exhale that felt heavy.

Amazingly, her mind did seem to steady and clear just a touch. Distraction, perhaps, but she was grateful, nevertheless.

The woman rubbing her arm, whose name Lucy hadn't quite seemed to catch or retain, tutted softly. "Poor chick. Do you feel like telling us your story? I don't have much reassurance to give you that you can trust us other than good faith, but perhaps that will be enough?"

Lucy looked at the woman in confusion, her pale hair, inscrutable eye color, and sharp angles of her jaw making her quite striking in spite of the dirt and oversized, threadbare clothing. And there was no way a woman dressed as she was ought to speak with such a cultured tone.

Especially since she hadn't done so earlier.

"What happened to your speech?" Lucy asked. "You were not so refined earlier."

The woman winked, rubbing her arm once again. "Quite the astute observation, my dear. One I'll thank you not to share with the rest of the world after tonight. This will suffice for now: I am not what I appear, but I am, in my own way, rather respectable."

Lucy bit down on her lip, unsure if she was afraid, cold, or simply fatigued, and lifted a shoulder in a shrug that could be taken in a hundred different ways, even by herself. "I suppose," she whispered.

The man who had saved her arose from his place by the fire. "I can go, Miss Allred, if it will make you more comfortable to speak only with Briar."

Briar, that was what he kept calling her. That could not be her real name, but it would do well enough for now.

"No," Lucy said softly with a quick shake of her head. "It's all right." She tried for a swallow, which was difficult, and cleared her throat instead. "I am a teacher at the Miss Masters's School, and I've just finished my first term. My father, who is dreadful with money and prone to reckless gambling, only agreed because it is a respectable establishment and might put him in higher circles."

Oh heavens, what would her father think when she did not arrive home tonight?

Fighting panic, Lucy went on. "He sent a carriage to meet me at Bromley today, which I had not expected for the journey home for Christmas. I have not received the address of the house to which my father has retrenched since I began teaching in Kent, so I could not direct the carriage even if I wished to. Then the carriage stopped, and I was let out. I thought the driver was going to retrieve my trunk, but then he left me. He just left me there, and while I was trying to figure out what to do, I was attacked by two men. I have no idea why, and I had nothing of value on me. They were supposed to take me away? And then you… he… I am so sorry, what was your name again, sir?"

He smiled at her, a rather crooked grin that crinkled the corner of his eye. "Trick, Miss Allred. At your service."

Lucy nodded, sniffling back invisible tears and a slight run to her nose. "And why were you…? That is, how did you…?"

"How did I happen to intervene?" he offered helpfully when she continued to struggle for words. At her second nod, he smiled more evenly. "Quite simple, really. I was set to meet with Briar this evening at almost precisely the same spot where I found you. Briar and I have never met in person, so it was not an unjust assumption that she was you, which was why I intervened. I would like to think that I would have intervened anyway, but we'll never know, will we?" He shrugged, not seeming altogether that concerned about the prospect, and the ease with which he dismissed the idea put him squarely in the realm of not-a-gentleman, which his manner of language made her suspect anyway.

Not that it mattered.

He had rescued her and made no attempt to compromise her in any way since doing so. He was making certain she was warm and had Briar taking the lead on most of this.

What was lower than a gentleman but still had proper manners?

Why did a category even matter?

"And then when I showed up, he knew, quite frankly, that you were not me," Briar finished with a laugh in her voice. "But never you mind the pair of us, we're going to keep you safe from whomever was trying to abscond with you."

"We what?" Trick retorted, giving Briar a surprised look.

Lucy avoided moving her gaze between the two of them, not really wanting to know what sort of exchange they would be having with their eyes. She was a problem in the midst of whatever plan they had for themselves and their evening, and she had spent her entire life trying not to be a problem. Her mother had taught her very carefully how to do so, as both of them were inconveniences for her father, and Lucy had always been an excellent student.

Not that it had helped matters.

Some hissing sounds seemed to be coming from both Briar and Trick, and Lucy glanced up just a touch to see Trick exhale with an expression of pure resignation.

That was interesting.

"Right, then," he said in a faintly louder tone. "I have enough contacts to ascertain the whereabouts of your father. Remind me of his name and I will have him found."

It sounded so orderly when he said it like that. As though she ought to have been able to see it done already. It wasn't quite patronizing, but it was something.

He found this task exasperating, she suspected.

Well, he should imagine how she felt sitting here and exasperating people through no fault of her own.

"James Allred," Lucy said softly, wishing she did not sound like a child. "No title, no sir, no distinction. James Allred, Esquire. Well, he says esquire after his name in introductions, but truthfully, I don't believe it has been earned or designated. There is no help in pointing it out to him, however. He declares it is implied, and there is no argument."

Trick seemed to clamp down on his lips at that, but Lucy wouldn't dare call it a laugh. That might be too optimistic, and it was clear that in this neighborhood, at this time of night, optimism did not reside. Perhaps it never did regardless of the time of day.

Optimism. Joy. Good humor. Sunlight.

Perhaps none of those things inhabited this part of London.

Considering Lucy had always done very well with those very things, she needed to get out of this chasm of darkness as soon as possible.

"I don't mean to cause any trouble or inconvenience," she added in a softer voice, her need to accommodate and apologize overwhelming. "If I could have found my father's house straightaway, I would have."

"Nobody is blaming you," Trick said with some force, though the tension in his face eased a bit. "God knows, you'd never show up in this part of London yourself. Not with your quality and good breeding, not to mention taste and refinement. None of this is your fault, Miss Allred, so do please put that out of your head."

"Indeed, do," Briar encouraged, now sounding her most refined yet. "As Trick has said, we will send out help to locate your father and have you delivered home in no time at all, and this will all be some horrid dream you can pretend never happened. I promise you, we have each handled far more complicated circumstances in our time."

That was oddly comforting, but Lucy wasn't certain what Briar meant by it. What exactly did they do? What circumstances were they handling? They were no beggars of the street, and they had no authority that was perceptible. Yet they somehow had power in presence and in spirit, though they had lowliness of character that did not belong to the upper class, and they were both speaking in a manner that would not be out of place in her own drawing room.

Contradictions and curiosities.

What a night this was turning out to be.

Lucy allowed herself a small sigh. "Fine, I will not think of myself as an inconvenience, despite knowing I am one." She paused, clearing her throat. "And I would be most appreciative of any help you could provide so that I might more speedily allow you to return to your own business and affairs."

Briar heaved a much grander sigh. "I suppose that is the best we are going to get out of her, Trick. Go on and send your people about to find Mr. Allred. I will see Miss Allred settled in here. Might she use your bed for sleeping? I fear she is quite done for."

Done for? Lucy rather thought she was going to explode from all of this pent-up energy that was now racing through her. In fact, she was starting to shake from head to toe, but not with the cold. It was just… shaking.

It would be obvious to Briar and Trick in a moment, if she was not mistaken.

"Right you are, Briar. Are you hungry, Miss Allred? I could probably find something resembling a meal from somewhere." Trick put his hands on his hips, looking at her expectantly.

Food? She couldn't even remember when she last ate, and her body was not giving her any indication that it wished to. In fact, she was quite certain that anything that could be procured from this part of London that was claimed to be even remotely edible would have several small and crawling creatures along with it.

She would never be hungry enough to eat something in that condition.

"No, thank you," Lucy told Trick with a hint of a smile. "Please do not trouble yourself."

He nodded, his own smile returning, which seemed naturally crooked now that she saw it again. "It wouldn't be any trouble, but as you say. I'll return shortly, Briar. Then, perhaps, we can talk business?"

"Of course. Why waste the meeting?" Briar shrugged out of her shawl and plucked her linen cap from her head. "I'll be awake."

Trick surprised Lucy by bowing to her, and rather properly so, before heading for the door and leaving, bolting it behind him, if the loud clunking was any indication.

Alone in the room with Briar, Lucy willed herself not to sag against the chair, and instead stooped to remove her shoes. A fatigued groan escaped her as she freed one foot, curling and splaying her toes a few times, and then the other, doing the same. Then she leaned back and stretched her feet towards the fire.

"You must be so tired, pet," Briar said softly. "What a dreadful day for you."

"I am sure I would be tired," Lucy assured her, forcing her teeth to not fully chatter against each other, "if only I would stop shaking."

Briar tutted and brought over her shawl, draping it over Lucy as she shivered. "That can happen with overexerting experiences, my dear. Especially if you aren't prepared for it. It will pass, and you will be well."

Lucy looked at her, a cluster of tension and heat coiling in her chest and prickling at the corners of her eyes. "Will I?"

Her voice broke, and she lowered her gaze, embarrassed by the wash of emotion when she ought to be strong and resilient. She was already a naive Society chit, and now she was actually helpless as well. Crying pitifully in dank rooms on some unnamed street, inconveniencing people of no consequence who were, at this point in time, the only creatures she could trust.

How hopeless could one girl be?

"Oh, pet…" Briar came around the chair and sank down, taking Lucy's hands in her own, her thumbs rubbing over her knuckles. "It is not so bad as all that. I'll not let anything happen to you. I'm not good for many things, but I have fought off henchmen before, and my husband always praises my good company."

Lucy hiccupped a half laugh, half sob as her tears began to come with a greater force, entirely against her will and rather like her trembling. "Y-you're m-married? I th-thought you m-might be a-a-a-a courtesan."

Briar laughed a rough, raspy, rather pleasant laugh. "God love you, pet, that is the most polite term I have ever heard. But no, I am not, despite knowing a great many rather amusing courtesans, to use your phrase. It would be too complicated to explain to you what I am in actuality, but I have been called the godmother of the Thames."

"D-does the T-Thames need a g-godmother?" Lucy asked in confusion, oddly relieved to not be sharing space with a woman of loose morals.

"Some parts do, some parts don't," Briar told her with a quick smile, her eyes sparkling impishly with her evasiveness. "And Trick, bless him, is very, very skilled at his work."

"Which is?"

There was a much more subtle smile from Briar then. "Complicated."

Well, that was even more evasive, but Lucy got the hint.

She wasn't going to know anything about her rescuers apart from what they called each other, and somehow had to trust them anyway. They were kind to her, and that was enough.

"Why would someone want to abduct me, Briar?" Lucy whispered, shaking her head. "Do you think it was a mistake?"

"I think it is entirely possible that it was a mistake," Briar assured her. "Though I cannot account for the carriage doing what it did. But I have seen stranger things. Come, let's get you into bed while we wait for Trick's contacts to find your father. You deserve some decent sleep, and I doubt you received that in the coaches from Kent. Come on, pet."

Lucy let herself be pulled from her chair and led to the bed like a child. "Are you a mother as well, Briar? You've got the right tone for it."

Briar chuckled in a rather warm manner that was answer enough. "I am, indeed. But I am also an older sister, and the tone is nearly the same."

"I'm sorry to be so simpering," Lucy said, wiping her eyes and nose with her sleeve, forgoing a lifetime of training to use a handkerchief. "You must think me a child."

"Leave my thoughts to myself, thank you," Briar quipped as she pulled back the sturdy bedcovers. "I know enough ladies of your station to know what you are equipped with as a group, and the fact that you have not swooned, screamed, simpered, or required a good smack across the face already puts you far above the pack."

Lucy cocked her head in amusement, her exhausted tears still trickling. "How many of us have you had to smack across the face?" she asked as she sank onto the bed.

Briar tapped her legs, waiting until Lucy swung them under the blankets. "Enough to know it works, and not enough to satisfy the urge to do so again. Come on, pet. Questions will not settle your mind for sleep. Take another sip of this brandy."

"Ergh, must I?" Lucy asked with a grimace, taking the glass anyway.

"It will help," Briar assured her. "Small sip, and settle in."

The taste was no better this time than it had been the first, but as the first drink had not killed her, the second would not do so either. If it would help her to rest after all of this, she would take it like laudanum and settle in.

Lucy sighed as she leaned back against the pillows and moved onto her side. "Thank you, Briar. I don't know what I would have done without you and Trick."

"Think nothing of it, pet. Have a good rest, and I'll wake you when there's news."