One of the loaded wagons rumbled past them. There was no official road here. The carts and wagons eased through the pedestrians as best they could. Those on foot moved smartly out of the way of the faster-moving wagons, which could not stop quickly with so much weight loaded upon them.

  When the wagon had passed, Ann saw what had made Adam halt. The man standing before the office door was tall, blond, and wearing an afternoon suit that would not be out of place in an English drawing room.

  She didn’t know the man’s face, but she didn’t need to know it.

  “They’re waiting for us,” she breathed, looking at Adam.

  He nodded. “I was afraid of this,” he said softly. “But I must have more money,” he added. “It was a risk that had to be taken.”

  The man at the door straightened, his gaze falling upon the two of them.

  Ann turned away, hiding her face. “Is there a back door?” she whispered.

  “Through an alley, yes.” Adam turned with her, and they moved through the throng along the dock.

  More men in conservative suits were coming toward them.

  “Back the other way,” Adam said. He spoke evenly, but she could hear the strain in his voice.

  They turned in the opposite direction and made their way back, but they had only gone a dozen steps when they saw three more men, all tow-headed and grim of jaw, heading in their direction.

  Ann gave a shuddering moan. They were hemmed in on all three sides. On the fourth was the edge of the dock and the deep sea beyond.

  “Ann!” The call was not loud, but the voice was familiar. “Do not run from me! Ann!”

  Ann glanced over her shoulder to confirm the identity of the man calling her name. “Filip!” she breathed when she saw his head above the crowd. Dismayed, she spun away from where he came toward them, pushing aside people in his eagerness to reach her.

  Her wild spin severed her grip upon Adam’s hand.

  At the same time, a heavily-loaded wagon rolled toward her. The horse snorted and the driver screamed at her, words she couldn’t understand, but their content was easy enough to grasp.

  Ann threw herself out of the way of the wagon wheels, her arms working hard as her slippers skidded on the greasy cobbles. She staggered, trying to stay on her feet, and thrust her foot out to keep herself upright.

  Her foot met nothing but air, for she had spun and staggered to the very edge of the high dock and now she leaned out over the edge…and fell, down to the dark water below.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Whitechapel, London. At the same time.

  When Laura’s reply to his simple, one-sentence letter arrived, Vaughn spent the morning tidying the room, although there was little he could do to hide the squalor.

  Then he paced nervously until her knock sounded.

  His heart pounded as he opened the door and looked upon her, dressed in a light green sprigged muslin dress that made her look young and fresh and so very lovely… “You came,” Vaughn said, his voice hoarse. “I wondered if you would.”

  “My courage has failed me six times since breakfast,” Laura admitted, gripping the shaft of her parasol so that her knuckles whitened. “But there is no longer any point in putting this off.” She glanced into the room.

  “Come in, if you think you can stand it,” Vaughn said, standing back. “Or we can walk outside—”

  “No, not in public,” Laura said quickly, then bit her lip, her gaze scanning his face as if she sought for signs of anger at her response.

  “I understand,” Vaughn assured her, keeping his voice gentle. “Well, you’d best not linger upon the landing, either.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, then stepped into the room. Vaughn shut the door behind her, then carefully circled around her, avoiding brushing up against her or otherwise startling her. It was still a small miracle in his mind that she was here. He would do nothing to frighten her away, now.

  The room was not large, so standing as far away from her as possible meant there was only a few feet between them.

  Laura gripped her parasol in both hands like a barrier between her and him. Her throat worked as she stared at him, her black eyes very large.

  “You should know right now,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as he could manage, “that I will not try to claim the boy as my own.”

  Her eyes glittered with sudden tears, but they did not fall. “I didn’t know what to do when I realized I was with child,” she whispered. “I was frantic…and Kempston was so kind….”

  “There is no need to explain. Since I saw the boy the other day, I have put together almost all of it. I went to…I was suddenly not there. You learned you carried my son. So you married as swiftly as possible, to pass the child off as legitimate. And possibly, to disassociate your name and your family with mine, too.”

  Laura drew in a breath that shook. “That is only what I told everyone else, to justify the speed of the wedding.” Her hands wrung the parasol a little harder. “I wept, the night before the wedding. I was so sick with dread, that Mama warned me I might lose the child. The possibility pleased her, but terrified me—it was your child, all I had left of you…” She began to cry in silent sobs, her chest hitching. “Oh, Vaughn, life is so unfair!”

  Vaughn wasn’t certain who reached for whom, only that she was in his arms. The parasol clattered to the floor.

  “I’ll dirty your dress,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

  “I don’t care,” she breathed and kissed him.

  It was heavenly. His heart ached with the familiarity of having Laura in his arms once more. For the few minutes that kiss lasted, the intervening dark years disappeared. He was the man he had once been, a privileged lord, with a life of ease and plenty ahead of him and Laura by his side.

  He wiped her damp cheeks. “Let me say it one last time,” he breathed. “Let me tell you how much I love you…how I will always love you, no matter what comes between us.”

  Laura’s tears spilled again. “When I saw you in the park, I barely recognized you. You have changed so much, Vaughn.”

  He pressed his finger to her lips. “There is no need to explain. You have a life now, one that you must lead without my stained history dogging you.”

  She shook her head, dislodging his finger. “No, you misunderstand. I saw how you had changed. How…how dreadfully prison had changed you…” She drew in another shuddering breath, her tears spilling once more. “Such great change—all it does is tell me how much I still love you. The man inside, the good man, who has done everything he can to let me keep this shallow life I have managed to put together without him….” Her voice shook wildly.

  Vaughn pressed her head to his shoulder and let her weep against him. It was all he could do for her now. Every sob she gave tore at his heart and hardened his resolve.

  When her tears had dried, Laura looked up at him. “You said you knew nearly everything now. What is it you do not know?”

  “His name.” Vaughn’s voice was hoarse once more. “I do not know his name.”

  Laura smiled. “Elis Raymond Richard.”

  Vaughn shuddered. Elis was his middle name. Raymond was his father and Richard was his brother. She had all but declared the boy his, after all.

  Laura stirred. “I cannot stay for long.” Regret tinged her voice. Sadness, too. “It was difficult enough to find a way to escape Georgina’s company for a few hours.”

  “Your companion,” Vaughn surmised.

  “Kempston’s aunt,” Laura said, with a grimace. “She is kind enough, but Kempston has not yet learned to trust me completely.”

  “He knows the boy is not his?”

  “I have never told him the truth, but sometimes I find him looking at me…yes, I think he suspects. It will take a great deal to overcome that, but for my children’s sake, I will work to give them a good life with a respectable father figure.”

  “One without me in it,” Vaughn said flatly.

  “That was not my meaning,” Laura said quickly.

  “It is mine,” Vaughn assured her. “You cannot have me associated with you in any way, Laura. We both know that. You must go back to the life you have made for yourself.”

  Laura’s chin quivered. But she nodded. “And what will you do?” Her voice was strained.

  “I intend to find Urien Darnell.” His voice hardened.

  “Urien!” She paused. “I don’t believe I have seen Urien since…since…” She frowned. “Why, for years.”

  “He disappeared at the same time I was arrested,” Vaughn told her. “So did four million pounds.”

  Laura’s mouth opened. “Darnell took the money? But…but can you not tell them that? Tell everyone! Then they will know you are not a thief after all.”

  Vaughn shook his head. “It is too late to redeem myself in the eyes of the world,” he told her. “The judge has made his decision. The partners at the bank were legally responsible. As long as Darnell cannot be found and questioned, or the money recovered, there is no point in claiming myself innocent. Only Darnell admitting his guilt will do that. So, I will find the man, no matter how deep and dark the hole he is hiding in. Then my family may be able to hold their heads up in public once more.”

  Laura calmed as she considered his words. “How can I help?” she concluded. “What can I do?”

  Vaughn bent and kissed her once more. A light, last touch. “You can go back to your marriage and your children and live as happily as you can.”

  He walked her to the door.

  Laura sighed as he opened it. “I am glad I came here, now,” she murmured. “I am glad you know the truth, although for years, I have dreaded what you would do if you ever found out.”

  Vaughn shook his head. “If I had still been the man you were engaged to, I might have challenged your husband to win the boy back, but I am no longer that man. Elis will live a better life with Kempston than with me.”

  Laura reached up and rested her hand against his cheek. He smelled rosewater and lavender. His heart ached.

  “Goodbye,” she whispered.

  “Farewell, my love.”

  She pressed her lips together for a moment, her eyes sparkling once more. Then she nodded and turned and left.

  Vaughn managed to shut the door, but that was all he managed for the rest of the day.

  Adam dodged around the lumbering wagon, cursing it in his mind as it moved far too slowly and hid Ann from his view. She had been frightened into bolting by the cloddish duke shouting at her.

  He rounded the end of the wagon, just in time to see Ann teeter upon the brink of the dock. Adam gave a hoarse shout. He was too far away to save her. His gut dropped in a sickening fall that matched hers.

  He sprinted for the edge of the dock, tearing the coat from him, for it would hamper him in the water. As he paused upon the edge and looked down at the swirling water to find the best place to dive, a hand gripped his elbow, holding him there.

  “Wait until you see where she is.” The tone was urgent, the accent odd.

  Adam whirled to face the idiot duke. “She is in the damned water, you fool. She cannot swim.”

  Sorensen pointed with his other hand. “The current, man. Look! It will take her with it.”

  Adam only now recalled the local stories about people falling into the swift currents swirling about the Golden Horn and being swept out into the Sea of Marmara and lost.

  His heart thudding, he scanned the lapping water. The last of the sunlight bouncing upon the waves did nothing to help him spot her. Then he saw her—just her head and her small white face, before she sank beneath the surface again. She was far from the dock already.

  “There,” he growled, pointing. Then he gathered himself for a long flat dive.

  “I will get a boat out there,” Sorensen said and slapped his shoulder.

  Adam dived, pushing off the dock with his toes, his heart hammering.

  Ann’s impact with the water felt as though she had landed upon hard earth. It drove the air from her lungs. The water was shockingly cold and bitter and as it closed over her head, it grew dark and murky.

  Her thoughts grew hazy, too.

  She held what little breath she had left and tried to think. She could not swim, although she had seen men swimming at exhibitions, and she could copy their motions. She had to reach the surface once more, so she could breathe.

  Ann waved her arms experimentally. It was the wrong way, for she drove herself deeper into the water.

  She tried to still the fright that speared her, so she could think. Then she drove her hands downward, as if she was pressing upon the water to push herself up…and it worked.

  The tunic dragged at her. She kicked off the slippers, but she could do nothing about the clothes. Instead, she pushed down with her hands again and raised her head to peer at the surface where the sun played. She could see the bottom of a boat nearby, but it was moving away from her.

  No, she was moving away from the boat, for the boat was held in place by an anchor chain that stretched down to the bottom, which was in the murk beneath.

  Ann drove her arms downward once more and this time, her head and face broke the surface. She gasped in the air, which tasted deliciously warm and sweet. Panting, she drew in air as quickly as she could. The high buzzing note in her mind receded. The black dots in her vision dissipated.

  She relaxed…which was her undoing. Abruptly, she sank beneath the water again.

  Ann realized then that in order to stay on the surface and breathe, she must continuously work to keep herself there. Only wood floated naturally, it seemed, and even then, water still washed over the surface.

  She waved her hands in the water once more, driving them down so she would rise upward.

  At the surface once more, she gulped air, while pushing down with her hands. The motion did not work as well when part of her was already above the surface. She found herself tumbling in the water, turning over in slow jumble of embroidered tunic and heavy earrings. She would have discarded the earrings except she needed both hands.

  As she tumbled, the water pushed up into her nose. Ann panicked, flailing, as the water seemed to burn inside her throat and face. She choked, drawing in more of the stuff.

  Now she was not certain in which direction lay the surface.

  Hands gripped her and pulled. She was being towed. Hoisted upward.

  Ann flailed for the surface, The need to breathe and rid herself of the burning water in her nose and throat was all she could think of.

  Her face emerged and she drew in a gasping breath, but all the water she had swallowed came with it. She choked and coughed, the water burbling in her throat.

  “Breathe out first,” Adam said. “I have you. Just breathe it out first. Then you can take in air. I won’t let you sink again.”

  It took every inch of willpower Ann had to not breath in, but to expel everything in her lungs and mouth and throat, first. Only the knowledge that Adam was there and that she would not sink anymore allowed her to focus and follow his instructions. She expelled the disgusting water, in three exhalations, then finally, finally, she could draw breath.

  Her breathing was a fast, hurtful panting, in between violent coughing that expelled even more water and tore at her already painful throat.

  She felt Adam’s arm around her middle and the movement of his body against her shoulders. He was kicking with his feet, keeping them both afloat. She drifted on her back, her head upon his shoulder.

  “Don’t struggle,” Adam told her. “The current is too strong even for me, but a boat is coming for us. All you need to do is relax. I will keep you afloat.”

  “Let me see you,” she begged. Talking hurt. She had abused her throat by attempting to inhale water.

  “In a moment. I can see the steamboat coming already.”

  “Adam, it was Filip!”

  “I know.”

  “He came here. He came here himself to find me.”

  Silence.

  Then Adam said, “Shh… Save your energy.”

  They floated for a while and Ann grew aware that the sounds of the noisy city were far away. The chug and hiss of the approaching steamboat was clear, carried upon the water.

  Then the boat came up beside them, on the far side of the current, which carried them up against the sharp sides. A rope was tossed and Adam grasped it.

  “Here, give her to me.”

  Ann looked up, startled, for that was Filip’s voice. The Duke leaned over the side of the boat, his arms out.

  Adam turned Ann so that she was held vertically in the water, up against him. “Reach up and take his arms,” he told her. “He will pull you out.”

  Ann shivered as she looked into Adam’s eyes, doubt spearing her.

  He gave her a tiny, hard smile. “It is all right. Go on. Take his hands.”

  Ann reached up and felt Adam lift her higher. She gripped Filip’s hands and was shocked by the weakness of her grip.

  Filip hauled, giving a deep grunt of effort. She was raised over the side of the little boat, then slithered like a wet fish onto the deck and lay shivering. She pushed on her hands and managed to turn her head.

  Then she pushed against the deck once more until she was sitting and watched the astonishing sight of Filip helping Adam climb into the boat. The Duke was getting his fine broadcloth dress coat damp and dirty, although he didn’t seem to notice.

  Adam sprawled on the deck just as Ann had done, streaming water from every inch.

  Filip lowered himself to the deck with a weary motion and sat with his back against the gunwale.

  A little man with deep olive skin stood at the wheel of the steamboat. He wore baggy pants, no shirt and a sleeveless jerkin. He jabbered something at Filip.

  Filip rolled his head to Adam. “What did he say?”

  Adam shook his head, sending water flying. “He is asking if you want to go back to the dock now.”

  “Yes, please,” Filip said.

  The man had a fine gold watch in his jerkin pocket, one that Anne recognized. It was Filip’s Swiss-made timepiece. The man leaned through a hatch in the wheelhouse and called out something. The low beat of the engine changed notes and the boat turned across the choppy water and chugged back toward the city.