LITMIR.BIZ

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little Oriental bedside table for paper and a pen.

      “I will return the dress and the coins,” she wrote. The words looked cold and rude. She hesitated, then added, “Thank you ever so much.” No, it wasn’t enough. But time was ticking away. She sketched herself as a Sphinx, with a smiling face, and as the caricaturists did, she added a little balloon at the side of the lips, writing in, “I do thank you!”

      Enough. She had to leave, make her way home, then return here before anyone was the wiser and be ready to allow David Turnberry to thank her for his life.

      She hurried for the door and out into the hall. There, she listened. There was no sound other than that of the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer.

      She fled down the stairway to the front entry. There was no lock on the front door. Not now. What would she do when she returned? Perhaps it would be locked by then; dusk would surely be coming on.

      Well, that was a worry she would have to contend with when she returned. Right now, she had to go to her father and sister.

      And worry that she would be able to return at all!

      On the street and down the block, she paused to draw a breath.

      She was out. She had gotten out very easily.

      Now the great problem—was she going to be able to get back in?

      

      “THE BIRD HAS FLOWN!” Hunter noted.

      He sat astride Alexander, his riding mount, hidden against a small field of trees in the narrow side yard of the town house. Ethan, at his side on Anthony, glanced his way, his features wrinkling in a silent question.

      “We shall follow,” Hunter said.

      She obviously knew where she was going. She quickly made her way through the streets by Hyde Park, finding a station for the omnibus.

      There, she boarded.

      Following the bus, which was pulled by heavy draft horses, was quite easy. The streets were busy, and the pedestrians often careless, so the going was somewhat slow.

      His redhead changed vehicles and headed, as he had suspected, for the river. And, there, of course, his concealing themselves became a bit more difficult. Hunter dismounted, handing Alexander’s reins to Ethan, and bidding the man to wait with the horses.

      “I don’t know what either of you is about!” Ethan grumbled.

      Hunter laughed. “I’m not at all sure I know myself!”

      He hurried then, for once the girl had departed the vehicle, she began to move quickly through the streets, the rows of tightly packed houses, the people milling in the walkways and alleys. He assessed the neighborhood.

      It wasn’t the poorest section of the city, but rather the old City of London itself, where some of the architecture of the late sixteen hundreds remained, simple homes built soon after the Great Fire had ravished the city. Most of the inhabitants were hardworking tradesmen, though the area attracted students, musicians and artists. The streets, if not grand, were clean.

      “Why, core and blimey!” an old woman who’d been sweeping called out. “It’s Kat!”

      “Shh, Mrs. Mahoney, please!” the girl cried, and she raced past the woman. “Is Papa in the house?”

      “Frettin’ and wailin’, he is!” the woman said. “Why, he has some of his friends in the police out looking for you, child! There was a rumor that you had been rescued from the water, but…well, no one knew just who had done the rescuing and where you’d gotten to!”

      “Oh, no!” the girl cried.

      “And what is that you be wearing, Mistress Kat?” the woman demanded.

      “I must see Papa,” the girl said, and rushed by the woman, heading into a small house that was painted and finely detailed with new gingerbread trim. The place surely dated back to the days of the Flemish weavers, Hunter thought.

      Determined to avoid a conversation with the old woman, Hunter slid quickly against a wall. There was a narrow alley leading to a rear courtyard, and he sidled down the length of it. He did not need to go far.

      An open window and drawn draperies allowed him an excellent view of the show within. There she was, the girl whom the old woman had called Kat, wrapped tightly in the arms of a tall, bewhiskered fellow. Another girl, also red-haired, though of a lighter shade, stood by. She embraced Kat next, then stepped away as the dignified older fellow wrapped Kat in his arms again.

      When at last the embracing ended, the second girl—her sister?—demanded, “Katherine Mary! What on earth are you wearing? Goodness! Where did you get such an elegant dress?”

      “I shall explain,” Kat said.

      “Indeed, you shall!” the old fellow responded gruffly. “I have been out of my head with fear and grief. Eliza told me of this insane thing you felt you must do, and I was left to convince myself that you would return, that you had not gone down to the bottom of the Thames! There are police officers out looking for you, young woman. Eliza, send Maggie to inform the police that my child has been found, that we will not need to dredge the river!”

      The man was truly furious, and yet obviously greatly relieved. Hunter felt guilty, as he knew the girl must. She appeared stricken, as if she had not realized till now just how painfully her absence had been experienced.

      The girl Eliza hurried from the room to summon this Maggie—a servant of some sort, Hunter assumed—despite the fact that this household seemed rather poor—but was very quickly back, not about to miss an instant of what was going on.

      “Papa,” Kat said, apparently in an effort to soothe. “Poor Papa, I am so sorry, I hadn’t imagined such a fuss. Why would you send the police after me? You know that I swim better than a fish.”

      “Aye, that I know,” her father said proudly. “But you’d gone after a university bloke, and then disappeared from sight! What will I do with you, what will I do? If only your dear sainted mother were still alive!”

      “Kat, where did you get the dress?” her sister demanded again.

      “It is borrowed… Papa, please, all will be well. You see, I was helped by another gentleman after I helped the first gentleman. I have been at a safe and truly gentle place, I swear it! You see, I am to meet with David Turnberry, the first gentleman, who is soon to be affianced to Lord Avery’s daughter, and I must—”

      “Lord Avery!” Eliza exclaimed. She looked across the room. “Papa, she will get a reward. A good reward!”

      “I needed no reward,” Kat said.

      “Well, I’d be happy for it!” Eliza exclaimed. “Scrimping and saving for something other than fish on the table.”

      “Eliza!” the father said sadly, shaking his head.

      Eliza apologized quickly. “Papa, Papa, you do so well, I am truly sorry for my words of complaint. But…Kat! That gown! It’s exquisite—where did it come from? Oh, my God! I should get dressed. I must go back with you and—”

      “No,” the man said firmly. “No one is going anywhere.”

      “But we must give this serious consideration,” Eliza pleaded.

      “Katherine Mary, you are my child. My daughter. And you’ll not go off among young men, whether they’re poor as paupers or rich as Midas, without proper escort. Without me!” he bellowed.

      “Oh, Papa, please! I must go to Lord Avery’s on my own. I swear to you, I am safe. There is a wonderful woman named Emma Johnson, and she is like my guardian angel.”

      “You were at the grand house of a woman?” her father inquired. “Why have these people not escorted you home?”

      “Papa…forgive me, but I’m pretending to have lost my memory. I’ve told

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