Chapter Six

I t hadn't been a smooth getaway. Not at all. Their last few hours in the Mint had involved taking a circuitous route to the gates separating that lawless place from the City of London. Ducking into alleyways, weaving their way through refuse that didn't require any sort of identification beyond filth, it had taken far longer to travel such a short distance than it ought to have. But there had been no help for it. The sailors from the ship where she'd been held were still scouring the Mint for her, and Joss knew that if they caught her, she would not escape again. And while she recognized that he could likely best one of them, maybe even two, if the others were nearby, it would be for naught. So they hid, evaded, avoided, and concealed themselves whenever possible. In short, it was slow going.

They worked silently to make their way toward the Mint's gate and the freedom to be had just beyond it. All Hettie wanted was to get back to Honoria, to see her sister and to know that—for the time being, at least—they were both safe. And she wanted to be far from him. She wanted to forget that anything that had transpired between them had ever occurred. And with every touch, even the most casual and necessary sort, she recognized that it would be impossible to do unless all ties were severed permanently. She would never see him again. It was the only way.

"Wait here."

The gruffly whispered instruction formed the first words spoken between them since they'd left the warehouse earlier that morning. It belied every tenderly whispered word they had shared before and only confirmed the distance that had grown between them since was insurmountable.

Hettie resented that he seemed to be supremely unbothered by what they had shared. But that, she supposed, was the benefit of being more experienced in carnal matters. Perhaps if she'd had a truer marriage, something where things had progressed in the normal way, then she might not have been so uncertain of how to behave in their very unusual situation. But then again, there was nothing about their situation that anyone could even hope to prepare themselves for.

"Did you hear me? Wait here!" he snapped.

Her jaw firming with anger and her lips twisting in mutiny, she wanted very much to tell him to go to the devil—that she was more than capable of finding her own way home. But that was a lie, and they both knew it. Her best chance of ever returning safely to the life that she had just been plucked from was to put her trust, limited as it was, in the man at her side.

"Yes, I heard you." With that, she moved toward a stack of crates near the end of an alleyway. Concealing herself behind them as much as possible, she watched to see what her rescuer would do next. As far as she could tell, watching him walk out into the open, the man had no fear of anything. But then, unless someone saw them together and recognized her, his part in her escape was still entirely unknown. He had no reason to be afraid.

As he neared the gates, two men emerged from the shadows. She hadn't even been aware of their presence. Nonetheless, her heart leapt to her throat as they approached Joss. Mr. Ettinger. She could not afford to think of him so intimately. Never again.

He exchanged words with one of the gentlemen as the other crept up behind him. But she needn't have worried for him. He had clearly anticipated the move. At nearly the last second, he grasped the other man by the throat and spun him around so that the club brandished by his compatriot struck him instead. That man sank to the ground, leaving only one for him to fend off. Having struck down his friend, the second man apparently had a change of heart. He dropped the club and ran off, disappearing between dilapidated buildings.

*

Joss turned back to where Hettie was concealed. "Come on. We don't have much time. He'll be coming back with reinforcements. They guard the gates—normally, it's to keep others out. Today, they've been instructed to keep everyone in. I can only assume that your abductors have paid them handsomely to do so."

He scanned the streets and alleys, watching for any sign of the guard or his colleagues, as Hettie extricated herself from the stacked barrels and crates. They were yards still from the entrance and the relative safety to be had on the other side of it.

By the time she'd reached him, he could see a group of rough-looking men heading in their direction. They'd emerged from one of the abandoned warehouses that lined the street. Joss didn't wait. He scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder and ignoring the pain it caused him. He sprinted toward the freedom that awaited them through those gates.

With shouts and curses ringing behind them, he ran for all he was worth. When he breached the stone gates that marked the boundary of the Mint, his lungs were burning and his shoulder was on fire. And a bevy of men—men he recognized—stepped forward. The Hound's men had come to their aid.

"Mr. Ettinger, sir," one of them said. "We've got a cart just over there. We're to take you and the lady to Mrs. Blaylock's home."

"Take her to Mrs. Blaylock's. I'll make my own way to the club to meet the Hound."

The man flushed. "He's with Mrs. Blaylock, sir. And I don't think he'll be leaving there anytime soon."

Joss cursed. Of course. She was a menace just like her sister. Neither one of them would give a man a moment's peace. "Fine. Bring the cart this way. Lady Ernsdale's feet have taken enough abuse during our escape."

The horse-drawn cart was moved to where they stood, and Joss reached for her to help her into it. She jerked away from him and instead allowed one of the other men to aid her. That she'd place her trust in a common criminal over him was both telling and deserved. Muttering a curse under his breath, he climbed up as well, making it a point not to touch her. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he was fairly certain that he'd never touch her again.