“Please forgive my indelicate humor.”
She squinted at him. “Are you capable of being serious for a single moment?”
He tried to look thoughtful. “Aggravated by the job, I suspect. When confronted by danger one simply”—something shifted in the corner of his eye—“makes light of the matter.”
A shadow emerged from a nearby alley. The dark figure of a man stepped into the street and took up the walkway some distance away. Rafe put a spurt on their pace. “You have my permission to impart severe discipline in the future. Whip a bit of serious into me—find that switch in the dungeon.”
“There is no dungeon at Randolph Place. I don’t know why you keep insisting—”
Rafe took ahold of her arm. “Fanny, do pay attention. A man has fallen in behind us and there is yet another across the lane.” He squeezed her elbow. “Don’t look now, darling.”
“Ouch.” She wrenched her arm away. “No endearments, Detective Lewis.” Still, she leaned in. “What shall we do?” Her sense of adventure never failed—even when she was imperiled.
“Ready your petticoats for a good dash.” He ventured so close he had to fight off a sudden urge to buss her cheek. Fanny gathered up the front of her dress as they turned the corner.
He grabbed her by the arm. “Run, Fanny.”
They sprinted down a crescent-shaped street of terrace houses, and he pulled her into a basement niche hidden by stairs. Crouched against the stone residence,he held her tight in his arms. “Where might we find a police station?” His words buffeted softly over her ear and she turned her head. In the shadows he could just make out plump lips that bowed so beautifully when she was either deep in thought or in a pout.
“I’m not sure, exactly. High Street, perhaps. Or Waverley station.”
Of course, the train station.
“Stay down.” He rose high enough to have a look about. The men were gone, but it wouldn’t take long before they worked their way back through the neighborhood. “We’re going to get ourselves over to Nicolson Street, plenty of carriage traffic and cabs for hire.” Wide-eyed, the dear girl bobbed her head and followed him out into the lane.
He caught sight of their pursuers just as he helped Fanny into a hansom. The dark-suited men stepped up the chase, dodging a jumble of road traffic. Rafe jumped in and opened the trap door in the roof. “Double the fare if you get us to the station as fast as possible.” The driver snapped his whip and left the men running up on the cab in the dust.
Rafe lost sight of them as they passed several carriages on the road. The driver moved them along at a nice clip, but not fast enough to suit Rafe. Waverley station was blocks away. More than likely, their pursuers would see the hansom turn into the train station.
Fanny’s concerned expression echoed his own sentiments. “Get ready to exit up ahead, past the park.” Shebit her lip and nodded. When street traffic piled up close to the station, he and Fanny left the hansom behind and ran the rest of the way to the station on foot.
“Bollocks.” He banged on the door. “Whoever heard of a police station that closes down for the evening?” An echo of footsteps and shouts could be heard across a myriad of train platforms. Placing one foot behind the other, Rafe swept Fanny into the shaded alcove of the precinct’s entryway.
“What are we to do?” The plea in her voice made him wish he had a ready answer.
He removed his Webley and spun the chamber. Five bullets. He leaned forward to peer around the corner and quickly retreated. “Not sure.”
“Not sure?” She frowned. “I should think a Scotland Yard detective would know exactly what to do at a time like this.” Her whispered chide was so . . . adorable.
She peered around his shoulder at the pistol. “Why don’t you use that on those men following us?”
“Would you like that, Fan? Set them back, bullets blazing? Even if I didn’t give a wit for my own
She squinted at him. “Are you capable of being serious for a single moment?”
He tried to look thoughtful. “Aggravated by the job, I suspect. When confronted by danger one simply”—something shifted in the corner of his eye—“makes light of the matter.”
A shadow emerged from a nearby alley. The dark figure of a man stepped into the street and took up the walkway some distance away. Rafe put a spurt on their pace. “You have my permission to impart severe discipline in the future. Whip a bit of serious into me—find that switch in the dungeon.”
“There is no dungeon at Randolph Place. I don’t know why you keep insisting—”
Rafe took ahold of her arm. “Fanny, do pay attention. A man has fallen in behind us and there is yet another across the lane.” He squeezed her elbow. “Don’t look now, darling.”
“Ouch.” She wrenched her arm away. “No endearments, Detective Lewis.” Still, she leaned in. “What shall we do?” Her sense of adventure never failed—even when she was imperiled.
“Ready your petticoats for a good dash.” He ventured so close he had to fight off a sudden urge to buss her cheek. Fanny gathered up the front of her dress as they turned the corner.
He grabbed her by the arm. “Run, Fanny.”
They sprinted down a crescent-shaped street of terrace houses, and he pulled her into a basement niche hidden by stairs. Crouched against the stone residence,he held her tight in his arms. “Where might we find a police station?” His words buffeted softly over her ear and she turned her head. In the shadows he could just make out plump lips that bowed so beautifully when she was either deep in thought or in a pout.
“I’m not sure, exactly. High Street, perhaps. Or Waverley station.”
Of course, the train station.
“Stay down.” He rose high enough to have a look about. The men were gone, but it wouldn’t take long before they worked their way back through the neighborhood. “We’re going to get ourselves over to Nicolson Street, plenty of carriage traffic and cabs for hire.” Wide-eyed, the dear girl bobbed her head and followed him out into the lane.
He caught sight of their pursuers just as he helped Fanny into a hansom. The dark-suited men stepped up the chase, dodging a jumble of road traffic. Rafe jumped in and opened the trap door in the roof. “Double the fare if you get us to the station as fast as possible.” The driver snapped his whip and left the men running up on the cab in the dust.
Rafe lost sight of them as they passed several carriages on the road. The driver moved them along at a nice clip, but not fast enough to suit Rafe. Waverley station was blocks away. More than likely, their pursuers would see the hansom turn into the train station.
Fanny’s concerned expression echoed his own sentiments. “Get ready to exit up ahead, past the park.” Shebit her lip and nodded. When street traffic piled up close to the station, he and Fanny left the hansom behind and ran the rest of the way to the station on foot.
“Bollocks.” He banged on the door. “Whoever heard of a police station that closes down for the evening?” An echo of footsteps and shouts could be heard across a myriad of train platforms. Placing one foot behind the other, Rafe swept Fanny into the shaded alcove of the precinct’s entryway.
“What are we to do?” The plea in her voice made him wish he had a ready answer.
He removed his Webley and spun the chamber. Five bullets. He leaned forward to peer around the corner and quickly retreated. “Not sure.”
“Not sure?” She frowned. “I should think a Scotland Yard detective would know exactly what to do at a time like this.” Her whispered chide was so . . . adorable.
She peered around his shoulder at the pistol. “Why don’t you use that on those men following us?”
“Would you like that, Fan? Set them back, bullets blazing? Even if I didn’t give a wit for my own
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