Chapter Eighteen
The cool night air hit him like a slap to the face. His skin was hot, making the change in temperature from indoors to outdoors even more startling.
“We need to go,” Honora said, putting her gun to her side as she grabbed him by the shoulder. “At least one of them will be stupid enough to try and follow us.”
He nodded mutely, following after her.
They began their escape, taking turn after turn down the dark alleys of London, lit only by the dim light of the moon. Their feet splashed through minor puddles, and once or twice he stumbled on a cobblestone. But as they continued, his eyes adjusted, making the way easier to see.
“How much longer do we need to run?” Leonard asked, his breaths short and quick.
Honora slowed, looking him over. Whatever she saw must have been enough for concern, as she said, “I think we should probably stop.”
His feet slowed, and he put a hand to the brick of a nearby building. “Goodness, my lungs are on fire.”
Honora was breathing heavily as well, but he was a bit frustrated by the fact that she seemed less out of breath than him. He tried to force his breaths to be steadier, straightening his back, but he immediately winced and doubled over.
“What is it?” Honora asked, rushing over to him. She put a hand on his back.
“It’s nothing.” He waved her off, but his entire body ached. He just didn’t want to admit it to her. Not after all the things she already thought of him. Lazy. Grumpy. Bitter. He didn’t really want to add weak to the list.
She took him by the sleeve of the jacket. “Sit down.” She pulled him down until he sat on the damp street and leaned against the rough brick of the building behind him.
“Ah, yes,” he said, trying not to grimace at the pain but utterly failing. “It is so much better to lean against a hard wall and sit in a dirty puddle of water.”
But she was already crouching in front of him, her eyes assessing his condition. “Well, I know you are at least coherent if you are well enough to make sarcastic remarks. I am relieved.”
“I’m fine,” he began, but her glare cut him off from saying more.
“I will be the judge of that.” She set to work, her fingers prodding his hands and arms. He watched, horrified and yet not caring enough to stop her as she undid his cravat and pulled it from his neck.
She lifted it to his cheek, pressing it to staunch the flow of blood.
He attempted to lift his hand to take it from her, but suddenly, he was too tired to care—or try.
The moonlight seemed to be playing tricks on his mind. It cast her face in shadows, accentuating her features in a way that held him mesmerized.
“Where does it hurt most?” she asked.
He held in a groan. “Everywhere.”
She smiled, a breathy laugh slipping from her lips. “I am sure it does. You took quite the beating this evening.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Have you?” She looked up from the cloth on his cheek, meeting his eyes.
When he couldn’t bring himself to lie, for he had not had worse, he lifted a shoulder, which only made him wince at the ache.
“Goodness,” Honora said, shaking her head, “I feel well and truly awful. This is all my fault.”
“Yes. It is.”
Her brow crinkled, and her mouth turned down. But then she looked up and saw his slight smile, and her brow smoothed over. “Do not tease me now. I am a woman on the verge of an emotional breakdown.”
“You?” He shook his head. “Not possible. I have never seen so formidable a person as you with your little gun.”
Her lips cracked a smile. “Nonsense.”
“No,” he said, “I truly feared you would shoot that man over my shoulder.”
She peered up at him.
“And,” he continued, “I greatly feared you would miss and shoot me instead.”
She rolled her eyes, keeping pressure with the fabric to his cut.
“Or, perhaps, you wouldn’t have missed on accident, but rather to put an end to my complaining.”
Her eyes flicked to his, her lips turning up and chest jerking with a silent laugh. “I would never. Especially not while you were being so gallant. Pray, why did you hit that man?”
He looked down at the cobblestones, not wanting to meet her gaze. The memory appeared in his mind—the man’s hands on her, his mouth nearing the skin of her throat. And then blind fury had filled Leonard from head to toe.
“He was a boor,” he finally said. “It would have been wrong for me to not defend you.”
Honora leaned back on her feet, pulling the cloth from his cheek and straightening her shoulders. “You were a gentleman. And I thank you.”
He huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“I would hardly say I am a gentleman. I have behaved abhorrently toward you.” He ran his finger along the smooth edge of a stone on the ground.
Even with the way he had treated her, she kept coming back.
Something deep within him ached. Whatever Honora’s faults, she truly did seem to want to get to know him. For whatever reason, she cared.
“Why have you tried so hard? To be near me?” he asked.
The fuzziness of his head made his words seem detached from him.
“Others gave up within only an evening. But not you. You stayed by my side, slowly chipping away at me. I do not understand why you would do so. It isn’t as if I’ve done anything of value on this search.
And I am a miserable person to be around. ”
Honora tilted her head. “A miserable person would not give me the time of day. But you did. And you introduced me to your friends, even knowing what I was. You cannot convince me that those are not attributes of a good man. The others, to their own detriment, did not see what I saw. They are the same people who would not have given me the time of day. But you did.”
A smile lifted his lips, and the light about the moon suddenly seemed to blur. As did everything else. Honora was there in front of him, but details grew fuzzy—her hair obviously light in color but with no discernible style; her head above her neck but had no discernible features.
His head rolled back.
“Leonard?”
He heard scuffling, and then hands were running along his hair and face—smooth fingers tracing over him. Her features slowly swam into focus, but only one thing stood out to him. An angry red line on her brow.
Leonard reached a hand up, gently trailing his fingers over the tender skin. Then his fingers jerked back, as if they knew he had crossed some barrier that he shouldn’t have. He clasped the bold appendages across his stomach to keep them in line.
“You must have been hit fairly hard to be worrying over me,” Honora said. “Or you are too much in your cups to think straight. It almost feels like you care.” She was running her hands over his head and into his hair, her fingers presumably probing for cuts or bumps. But it was blasted distracting.
Leonard’s eyes traced her face. “I do care, Honora.” His stomach felt as if it would upheave with the words as sudden nerves swirled within him. Being this honest with someone didn’t come easily to him, and his body was revolting at his messy attempt at vulnerability.
Her fingers halted on his shoulders. For once, she had no retort. No witty or quick comeback.
The moonlight kissed the tops of her cheeks, and the angry red cut on her brow made Leonard recall how Honora had been knocked to the ground.
He didn’t know how to take her injury away or what that man did to her, but part of Leonard wanted to ease her pain for once.
For whom did she have to help her? Just like him, they both took care of themselves.
He stared at the gouge and nodded toward it. “How does that feel?”
She dipped her eyes. “A bit better.”
With nerves spiking again, Leonard swallowed. His fingers clenched. “Who takes care of you, Honora?” he whispered into the cool night air.
With eyes still trained down, she took a tremulous breath. “Myself, of course. I’m a grown woman.”
He watched as a swallow bobbed in her throat. “And who do you have to share your burdens with?” he pressed.
Her lower lip trembled. “Why are you asking me this now?”
Leonard tightened his grip on his fingers to keep his hands from her.
He had a sudden desire to lift his hand and trace the corner of her mouth.
But he was quite sure she wouldn’t appreciate him drawing attention to her small lapse of vulnerability.
She was more like him than he had realized. She only hid it in a different way.
After a bit of an awkward silence, he continued. “Why do you need me on this little adventure?”
She chewed her lip, successfully stopping the quivering. Her head tilted to the side in a half-hearted shrug. “I told you.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “For protection.”
“You seem quite capable of that yourself.”
Her eyes widened and her breaths deepened, causing her chest to rise. But she didn’t answer him. Only stared—as if she felt cornered.
“No one should have to feel utterly alone in this world,” he said, filling in her silence. “Not even you, Honora Gillingham.”
“I—” She paused, taking another breath. “I do not need anyone.”
“Yes you do,” he gently insisted.
Her eyes came to his, unshed tears glistening. “No one would want me. If they truly saw me, then they would want nothing to do with me.”
“I see you,” he said, his words nearly a whisper.
Her previously tender expression morphed to steel. It was a strange motion. He hardly noticed her face move, and yet he couldn’t deny the temperament was drastically different.
“No,” she said, eyes glinting. “You see what I want you to see.”
Voices echoed down a nearby alleyway. First, they kept their gaze, the words they were speaking casting a spell over them. Then, as the shouts neared, the enchantment broke.
“We need to go,” Honora said, standing and holding a hand out to him.
Though he didn’t want to admit he needed her assistance, he took it.
With gritted teeth, he stood. The blood flowing out of the cut on the side of his face had finally stopped, but his entire body felt like it had been—well—thrown into a table.
“Lead the way,” he said, nodding to her and offering his arm.
She took it, bearing his weight instead of the other way around, and hobbled, rather quickly, toward another alley.
He turned to look at her, and she moved ahead as if she could see their location from a bird's-eye view, knowing the directions she needed to take like the back of her hand.
Then, she turned to him, her brow scrunching as she watched his awkward gait.
“When you need a rest, let me know. It will be a long walk.”
“I’m fine,” he said, his words short, as if each one cost him something. Like his pride.
Slowing her pace, she glanced behind them to be sure no one was there. The voices had faded, which Leonard hoped meant they were heading in an opposite direction. “Hopefully we will come across a hackney on our way.”
He swallowed, a slightly metallic taste on his tongue. “I’m not holding my breath for anything at this hour.”
“Then let us hope you are resilient.” Pausing at the end of a path, she turned her head to look both left and right.
Leonard leaned to one side, resting his shoulder against the wall. “Are—” He took a tight breath. “You lost?”
“Of course not,” she assured him, choosing the direction to the right and pulling him with her. “I was only contemplating which way our adversaries were likely to take so we do not come upon them.” Her breath fogged, wisping up into the cold air, dancing in the moonlight before slowly disappearing.
So went the next hour as they slogged their way through the alleyways of London. Leonard miraculously did not ask to stop along the way, but his steps were markedly slower than when they had first begun their journey.
“The Thames,” he said, sighing at the sight. “Thank goodness.”
Now, at the very least, they had gas lamps lighting their way, making it easier to navigate. And they might finally come upon some transportation to get them the rest of the way home.
“Do you want to sit?” Honora made her way to a bench before he answered, and while he never did give an indication either way, he also did not protest as she sat down, pulling him along with her.
He turned, and she gasped when she saw him in the brighter light provided by the lamps. She lifted a hand to his cheek. “I’m so sorry.” Her thumb grazed the skin, as if that would wipe it all away.
“Let us not worry at the moment. We only need to get home.” He pulled her hand down, but he didn’t let it go, keeping them clasped on the bench and tucked between them.
He looked up toward the Thames and saw two young men stumbling along their way, likely to their own apartments after a night of drinking. Then Leonard spied their saving grace making its way down the street.
“Ah. So there will be a way home,” he said on a sigh as the hackney ambled closer to the post.
They stood, and Honora slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as they walked over to it.