“Oh, you want to help me catch the bad guys?” he asked, following her down the stairs.

  “Of course,” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder. “Why would I not want to help?”

  “Because all thieves stand together,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “You won’t give up who you know.”

  He was correct. She liked that he knew things about her, that he noticed her loyalty. “Perhaps I want to stand with you now.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs and he stopped and stood in front of her, blocking her path. “After two days, you’re ready to stand with me?”

  She pushed him out of her way. “Do not mock my affections for you, Detective, or you may never hear them again.”

  “All right,” he said, turning to go with her again. “If you’re familiar enough with me to threaten me, I guess you’re able to change your mind so quickly on where you stand.”

  “I have not changed it so quickly,” she admitted. “I have done what I have needed to do for Rosie and some others.”

  “But you have always known it was wrong?” he urged.

  “I knew ’twas wrong in the sense of my father telling me ’twas wrong. I’m still not sure the rich should have it all and the poor, nothing. Their children starve, and no one cares.”

  “There are other ways to raise money for the poor.”

  “Oh? How?” she asked.

  “Have donation drives. You know a lot of wealthy people, I’m sure. Have a raffle of a delicious meal and a date with the lord or lady of the winner’s choice. Or tell your friends that you’re collecting donations for the poor. See what happens.”

  “First, what is a raffle? And what is a date? Second, they will laugh me out of their lives.”

  They left the house with Charlotte learning about what a raffle was. She thought it was a splendid idea and promised to see it done. She knew plenty of young, pretty ladies and handsome lords who might be willing to go on a friendly date with someone who would spend the most on their food. Perhaps she could do it, and she didn’t really care if people stopped speaking to her. She’d never cared about what the stately thought. That’s why she robbed them.

  “Will you come to my raffle dinner?”

  “I have nothing to give,” he told her. “I haven’t been paid yet.”

  “Offer yourself, silly. For a date.”

  “Will you try to win me?” He laughed softly. Charlotte liked the sound of it. She wished he did it more frequently.

  “It depends on the food that is being offered,” she teased.

  She led him to the stable where they saddled two horses and sent a stable hand (who wasn’t Roldan Simeon) to bring Colin, Liam, William and Gerald to them.

  The men were already waiting for instructions, so it didn’t take long before they were riding toward the town of Croydon. Michael wanted a jail. She would give him one. There was an old keep on the outskirts of the town. It was big enough to house many men, and perhaps a woman. There were cellars and rooms with bars for doors and shackles on the walls. No one used it anymore. She thought Michael would like it.

  He didn’t.

  “It’s a bit barbaric,” he complained, holding the back of his neck in his hand.

  “What are jails like where you come from?” she asked.

  “Clean. Prisoners are treated humanely.”

  She laughed. “Where—oh!” She leaned up and in and said quietly close to his ear, “You mean in the future?” Before he answered, she looked around and held her index finger to her lips. “Well, this place can be cleaned. The prisoners could clean their cells. It could be part of their punishment.” She almost giggled thinking about what Sebastian would do if he had to clean his cell.

  “Yeah, and I could run the operations going on upstairs.”

  She looked heavenward then shook her head. She had no idea what he meant, but she didn’t argue.

  “What else do you need?” she asked, looking around.

  “We need weapons,” Colin proposed.

  “And more men,” William offered.

  “And nooses,” said Liam.

  While the men made lists of what they needed to clean up Croydon, Charlotte felt ill. She wanted to be excited, but these were her friends they were talking about catching and hanging. She eyed Gerald a time or two. He was one of Preston’s men. Perhaps she should tell him to go to Preston and let him know what was happening. But no, she needed to be the one to tell him. She needed to know if he was going to try to have Michael killed. What if he was? Michael shot him. His revenge could happen at any time.

  Had Sebastian been sent to kill him? Should she tell Michael?

  She smiled with them when the conversation called for it. But her mind was on saving them.

  How could she save them both?

  Chapter Sixteen

  They made what Michael called home base in one of the cavernous halls upstairs. It would be a good place to meet once he hired more men. Was he possibly going to build his own police force back here in seventeen twenty-four? Was he going to be in charge of everything? Was he out of his mind? He hated being a cop. It had nearly killed him, but he couldn’t stop. Now that he could start over, he didn’t want to.

  He spread his gaze over the abandoned keep with its cobwebs and splashes of sunlight coming in from the high, narrow windows. Its giant, alcoved hearths and enormous wooden table in two of the halls or rooms or whatever they were, were uselessly big. He wondered who had once lived here.

  He couldn’t get over the way houses and castle keeps were just abandoned back then…now, he corrected his thoughts. “Is it unsafe?”

  “I do not know,” Charlotte answered beside him. “It has been here for as long as I can remember.” She turned her gaze to the men, and they agreed.

  “Who owns it?” he asked.

  “The town of Croydon I would imagine,” she supplied.

  “So…your father,” he deduced as if he were playing chess and he just took her king in checkmate.

  “That is good news for you, Detective,” she pointed out, walking around the large table. “He will no doubt approve of you using it.”

  “Good,” he said, hoping she was right. “Now, the duke said he was sending over more pistols, but I don’t know when. We need a few things today.”

  Colin and William told him of every weapons shop in town. There were three. Good. They would go to them later.

  “We’ll need a locksmith for keys to the cells and—”

  The list went on and on. He was going to be busy today. Perhaps too busy to keep an eye on her.

  He didn’t want her sneaking off to try to visit snooty Lord Sutton. But he imagined it was all she thought about doing since they were alleged good friends and he’d been shot…by him, her what? Possible future boyfriend? Of course, not that far into the future. He would let her go but the roads were too dangerous. Did thieves rob thieves in the eighteenth century? He realized she wasn’t new at this. No one got a ring off a man’s finger without notice if he…or she, wasn’t skilled. But there were other things besides thieves out there. Rapists. Murderers.

  Turning to look at her—he raised his eyes from a dusty chair and met her gaze. They both smiled. She was exquisite. He never thought he’d say that about a woman, but she was. When she looked at him with her large, dark eyes and her chestnut hair spilling down her shoulders, he wanted to stare at her forever. He felt entranced, consumed, utterly lost to the fresh, outdoorsy scent of her, the dulcet sound of her, and, oh, the sight of her.

  “Tomorrow,” he began, knowing for sure that he’d lost his mind, “I’ll deliver you to your friend Preston’s home in Sutton. I’ll stay in the nearest village and await you there, then bring you back home. Okay?”

  Her smile widened. “Okay.”

  Things were happening between them. He didn’t want to keep his hands or his mouth off her. She made him feel stupidly happy for no reason at all. He hadn’t felt that way since he was a kid, and he liked keeping it behind him. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He’d learned that life gives you good days and then kicks you in the gut, cutting off your air, bringing you to your knees. He thought he was safely guarded to never go soft again. How had she managed to get under his skin? A thief, no less! How could he let her?

  All he knew was he was glad when her father said he still wanted Michael to keep an eye on her. What a pitiful fool he had become. He almost laughed.

  “Are you boys hungry?” she asked them. Of course, they all enthusiastically told her they were. She offered to go to buy some fruit and bread at the market.

  “Take Colin with you,” he told her.

  “Michael, trust me. You have given me no reason to run off.”

  His expression warmed on her. “For some wine. So he can carry it.”

  She laughed softly at herself. Was this what she did to other men? With her mouth so perfectly fashioned to smile, he doubted anyone knew how bored she really was. Did her dark eyes dance and look off coyly, half-hidden under a spray of lashes for all men? If so, how could they all not be in love with her?

  It wasn’t real with anyone else. She was real with him. Wasn’t she?

  “Colin?” he called out before they left the hall. “Bring me some water.”

  He didn’t want to get drunk and he knew if he started drinking, he would continue. He hadn’t thought about quitting. He thought he needed it to get through the day, but he didn’t. He needed his life back and he felt as if he were finally finding it again. He was afraid to let go and trust it. Trust her. Everyone lied. She lied, but about how much? So much had changed. The era in which he lived had changed. It was a new day, maybe a new beginning. And if it was, he wanted it with her.

  “What do you two know about Charlotte?” He wasn’t sure if it was right to ask, but he was sewn together with investigating thread. Asking questions was what he did.

  He discovered that Charlotte was well loved by the town’s people. She was very close with Lord Sutton, Preston Bristol III, who was also well loved by many. And how did the rest feel about him? They were afraid of him.

  “Why are they afraid of him?” Michael pressed but the men didn’t know. He thought Gerald appeared uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, his eyes darting from Michael to the entrance of the hall—as if he were about to make a run for it.

  Michael kept an observant eye on him.

  “What about these Horsemen?” he asked them next. “Know anything about them?”

  William was the first to speak. “Other than that there are six of them and—”

  “Six?” Michael questioned. “I thought there were four.”

  “The Bible had four,” Liam reminded him. “Croydon has six. The Pale, The Blue, The Red, The Dark, The Kissing—”

  “The Kissing Horseman?” Michael repeated, not sure if he wanted to laugh or think about how he would knock out all of the Kissing Horsemen’s teeth if he kissed Charlotte.

  “And The Gray.”

  “Hmm, okay. What else?”

  “At first, whatever they robbed went toward helping widows and orphans. The poor,” Liam told him. He had no idea that his words had made Michael’s stomach feel like it caved in. Charlotte said she robbed to give to the poor. Did she know these men?

  “But the robberies are becoming more frequent,” said William, “and the needy are not getting the help.”

  She had to be involved with these men somehow. Did he just let her go run and warn them? No. Why would she when he was bringing her to Sutton tomorrow? Should he go back on his word? He never had before. “It’s greed, William,” he told the young man. He said as little as he could. He felt sick. He knew she was a thief, but if she was involved with the Horsemen…or if she knew them…everything would change.

  He fought the urge to push aside every chair, the table itself, out of his way and go find her. But he controlled his desire and harnessed his urge and waited.

  “Do we know who any of them are?”

  The men shook their heads. “No one knows, and if they do, they are not going to tell you, Sir.” Again, William did the talking. “No one will talk about them.”

  Michael settled his gaze on Gerald across the table. “Fear?”

  “Mostly,” William agreed.

  “What else?”

  Liam laughed and leaned back in his chair. “What else is that they are working for the Horsemen.”

  Michael raised his eyebrows on Gerald. Finally, the young man laughed. “I’m not involved with the Horsemen. I just do not know anything. That does not make me a criminal, does it?”

  “No,” Michael told him, “it does not.” He went to Gerald and patted him on the back. Keep your enemies closer. Right?

  What was Charlotte?

  And speaking of Charlotte, what was it about her friend, the Baron of Surrey, that Michael was curious about? Everyone else might be afraid to discuss the Horsemen, but Sebastian Alexander wasn’t. That had been because he wasn’t going to tell Michael anything. He’d been fishing.

  Talking about them sure scared the hell out of Charlotte, though, before a word about them escaped his lips.

  Sometimes, he wished he didn’t have to think out and dissect every lead. And…Charlotte wasn’t under suspicion of doing anything more heinous than robbing jewelry from the rich. She wasn’t a lead.

  And yet, something told him she was his biggest lead.

  What if she hadn’t wanted the baron to spill any beans about say, maybe, her precious Preston?

  “Should Lady Charlotte be taking this long?” he asked.

  “Colin is with her,” Liam pointed out. “He is the best fighter in town. Do not fear.”

  Liam was assuming Charlotte was the one needing help. How safe was Colin with Charlotte’s friends?

  “So, no guesses on who runs the Horsemen?” Michael put to them then waited for any answer. None came.

  “There’s a code, Sir,” William told him.

  “Oh?” Michael asked him. “What is it?”

  “You do not talk.”

  The others agreed. Even Gerald spoke up. “That is why the prisoner from last night was set loose. Everyone knows if they talk…to you or any lawman, they will disappear. Or it might be a loved one who goes missing.”

  Michael listened with a horrified look on his face. “We have to stop this.”

  “You have to find someone who is brave enough to come forward.” Liam told him. “Just working for you puts our lives at risk.”

  “I’ll see that you are all well-armed and paid well,” Michael let them know. “But let me tell you this. If I find one of you is a spy for the Horsemen, you’ll wish punishment came from their hand instead of mine.”

  Liam and William nodded. Gerald deflected his gaze. Michael would keep an eye on him.

  He looked toward the entrance and grinded his teeth. Where was Charlotte?

  He heard the doors downstairs open and then clang shut. “’Tis us,” her voice came to his ears like blessed music. “Do not shoot us.”

  He heard Colin laugh. They weren’t hurt. She hadn’t run off.

  His heart began to beat again. He left the hall and went to the stairs.

  “Were you getting worried that I ran away?”

  He shook his head. “In truth, I lost track of time.”

  “In truth?” She grinned as if she saw right through him, and his bald-faced lie was obvious.

  Colin had most of the sacks, so Michael helped him first. He could smell the wine sack tossed over his first-in-command’s shoulder. He ignored it. He could feel Charlotte’s eyes on his back. He didn’t ignore that.

  “How did you pay for all this?”

  “I did not,” she replied. “My father will be informed, and he will pay.”

  Clever, Michael thought with disdain. The duke was keeping tabs on her. She knew it. She wasn’t stupid. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Why not buy the other things you need in the same way?”

  “I do. But I cannot drain his coffers.”

  He saw her point, hauled a few sacks over his shoulder, and hurried up the stairs. He called to the others and dumped the sacks, which didn’t contain liquid, onto the table. There were apples, a few pears, four loaves of black bread, a loaf of bread with raisins or dates in it, a hunk of butter…or cheese, another hunk of cheese…or butter. They both looked almost exactly alike. Some wrapped packages of dried, salted meat. They weren’t sure what kind of meat. But Michael decided when in Rome…

  They all sat at the table together and passed the bread and everything else around. Michael wanted the wine, but he wanted to hold on to this feeling of being able to get past his previous life, even more. He wanted to enjoy his time with Charlotte because he really wasn’t sure if it was permanent. Did he want it to be? Yes. That’s why he was planning to lead a police force. To start over. A new day. He looked at the faces around the table and was suddenly overcome with the feeling of nostalgia.

  Arthur had a table. Did it mean something? He didn’t care. He had a castle keep. He had men, and he had a woman who was going to keep his life interesting.

  “So, tell us about what you did in York, Sir.”

  Michael gave Colin a cool glance. It was a question that was bound to be asked at some point. Michael had thought about it. “I’m an investigator. I investigate crimes. I wasn’t in charge in York, I had a partner. He’s…um…still in York.”

  “Are you going back?” William asked.

  Everyone around the table grew quiet, waiting for his answer. Charlotte was waiting as well. “I don’t know if I’m going back. I don’t—” he paused to clear his throat. “I don’t want to, but it may not be up to me.”

  “Oh, now let us not talk about such melancholy things,” Charlotte suggested. “Detective Pendridge does not want to spend the day talking about where he came from. Do you, Detective? Will, why do you not tell us about your dear mother, Gladys Reynolds. She was a friend of Rosie’s…”

  She didn’t want him to talk about his time traveling adventure and sound like a fool to the men. It was thoughtful, but should the men know the truth? He could make better decisions if he knew if he were staying or not.