Page 48 of Redemption

“I’m not sure I should have now,” Ashford said with a sardonic note in his voice. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. However, I wanted you to be aware if we're able to rescue the girl as well. I know there will be accommodations you’ll need to make.”

“Thank you,” Rhea said with a nod as hope flared inside her.

If Ashford could help Rufus and Fanny escape Ruckley’s control, that left only Harry and Peter to save. It meant she’d be done with London, and she’d be free. Free to live a quiet life in the country with the children. A life that would allow the children to grow up cared for and loved. A life they would never know in the East End. Her gaze darted to Percy’s patrician profile as he nodded at something Ashford said. Despite her best efforts, her life was becoming more entangled with his hour by hour.

The fact that Percy had taken it upon himself to become her knight errant dismayed and pleased her at the same time. It also made her question why he was doing so. Last night when he’d explained how his nephew had known about Timothy, she’d initially thought him a liar. The concept of someone speaking with the dead wasn’t something she found easy to grasp.

The small bit of trust she’d awarded Percy had immediately teetered on the brink of destruction when he’d explained he came from a family of psychics. The entire idea had struck her as an outrageous story one might use to explain away a lie. But it was his reluctant admittance that he had the same gift as his family that made her consider the possibility he was telling the truth. It had been quite clear he’d been uncomfortable telling her about his gift.

As the idea of his ability had begun to sink in, she remembered the night in the museum. Over the past year she’d tried to understand his words to her the night Ruckley had shot him. Then there had been the odd incident at the orphanage. Braced against the wall, he’d appeared ready to slide to the floor. The look on his face had alarmed her. He’d had the look of someone in a trance. The final point of note had been the reaction of Percy’s family to Jamie’s declaration.

None of them had exhibited any surprise at the boy’s announcement, only dismay. Oddly enough, she knew their reaction wasn’t because a secret had been revealed. Their behavior had been one of genuine concern for her and the distress Jamie’s words had caused. Their empathy and caring nature for her anguish had been more than evident as Percy had led her out into the garden.

She liked Percy’s family. They were a close, tight-knit group. She’d recognized the polite inquisition they’d put her through for what it was. They wanted to know whether she was good enough for him. Sadly, the answer to that question was a resounding no. The thought speared its way through her heart, and she barely managed to keep from gasping at the physical ache it caused.

Why should she care whether she was worthy of Percy Rockwood? She didn’t like the reply whispering through her head. Her mouth suddenly dry, she jumped as Percy touched her elbow. The pulse of electricity that sped up her arm sent her heart racing. Alarmed by her response, Rhea quickly pulled away from him. Percy frowned slightly as he met her gaze.

“I’ll see you home,” he said quietly.

Still struggling with her reaction to him, and the emotional upheaval assaulting her, Rhea merely nodded. Hastily covering her features with the veil attached to her hat, she said goodbye to Ashford and walked out of the office with Percy on her heels. The moment they left the building, the fetid odors of the East End pushed past the veil and filled her nostrils. She almost gagged at the smell. How had she ever tolerated the stench to the point it hadn’t sickened her on a daily basis. Bile rose in her throat, but she forced it back.

“Let me wager a guess you came in a hack, and didn’t ask it to wait.” The rebuke in his comment made her look up at him. Although his expression was stern, there was also a hint of amused resignation. When she didn’t answer, he nodded in reply to his own question and gestured to a small hansom cab parked a few feet away.

“Fortunately for you, Miss Bennett, I came in my own carriage.” The softly spoken admonishment tugged a small sound from her as she silently acknowledged her lack of forethought.

It was completely unlike her. Life here in the East End had taught her to always have a plan then a backup plan, and after then another plan that could be put to use as the last resort. But ever since Percy had reentered her life, she found herself forgetting things and not thinking clearly.

Percy assisted her into the vehicle, and once more a pulse of current spread its way through her. As he sank into the seat opposite her, Rhea averted her gaze to stare out at the squalid street. The confines of the small carriage pressed Percy’s long legs into hers. The close proximity was unsettling. If she were to lean forward, she would be close enough to kiss him. Horrified at the direction of her thoughts she darted a look in his direction to see him studying her intently.

“The phrase Ashford is using to identify him as someone to trust is an unusual one.” Percy’s comment caught her off guard, and she remained mute, uncertain what to say. Eyebrows arched in a quizzical manner, he frowned when she didn’t reply. “Was Timothy one of the children you looked after while at Ruckley’s beck and call?”

The question cleared her mind of everything but the image of Timothy’s pale, terrified features. She stared in consternation at Percy through her veil. The man had an uncanny ability to know things about her. Was it his talent for seeing things others couldn’t? The thought alarmed her. The idea of him seeing into her past wasn’t something she wanted to contemplate.

His demeanor said he was awaiting an answer, but the horror of Timothy’s death made her hesitate to share the story. Rhea closed her eyes for a brief moment then turned her head away from him. It was easier to tell her tale without watching his reaction. She drew in a deep breath and released it.

“Ruckley is a brutally vicious man.”

“Of that I have little doubt.” The hard edge to his words indicated he loathed the criminal almost as much as she did.

“In addition to my…to Ruckley selling my body…” She stumbled over her words and looked at him for a brief instant. Outrage darkened his face and she quickly averted her gaze. Rhea swallowed hard. “I was also forced to pick pockets. Our thievery was directed by Ruckley from a distance. It allowed him to avoid criminal charges if one of us was caught.”

Percy grunted and muttered an oath beneath his breath. She ignored the sound and distanced herself by looking down at her hands fiddling with the skirt of her dress. If she looked at him, she wasn’t sure she would be able to continue with her story.

“One of the cardinal rules was to never take anything out of the purses we stole. If Ruckley caught you…” Her voice trailed off into silence, and Percy shook his head in disgust.

“If you did, then Ruckley punished the offender,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Rhea nodded as she remembered Ruckley’s expression the night Timothy had died. “Timothy’s parents sold him to Ruckley when he was nine. He was willful and constantly at odds with Ruckley. One day, he pocketed a few coins he’d stolen. Unfortunately, Edgar saw him steal the coins and reported him to Ruckley.”

As if it were yesterday Rhea was standing in the small shed behind the pub Ruckley operated his business from. If there was one thing Ruckley enjoyed it was tormenting his victims. Even now, she could hear the soft, menacing sound of Ruckley’s voice.

“Come now, Master Timothy. We’re all in this together, and you know you can trust your old friend Ruckley. What happened with that wealthy gent you bumped into this evening?”

Rhea glanced around at the small group witnessing the mental game Ruckley was playing with Timothy and the rest of them. Every child in the small band looked terrified, except for Edgar. One of Ruckley’s lieutenants, the boy was actually enjoying the older man’s treatment of Timothy. As if aware of her gaze, Edgar looked in her direction, and the smug expression on his face made her stomach churn. It told her Timothy was about to pay dearly for just a few pieces of silver. Ruckley had deliberately waited until their return to the tavern before interrogating the boy.

Ruckley ordered Edgar to tie the boy to one of the shed’s support structures, and the boy looked over at Rhea his eyes glazed with terror. The boy clearly understood something terrible was about to happen, but he didn’t know what. Ruckley found this to be one of the most pleasurable parts of his torture—keeping his victims guessing. Sometimes he would use a whip—at other times a riding crop. Rhea had even seen him brand a young girl for refusing to sleep with a paying customer.

Despite knowing what was to come, Rhea still stiffened in horror the moment Ruckley lifted the large whip off the far wall of the shed. In another split second a wave of nausea rolled over Rhea. Oh God, not the whip. The last time the man had used it his victim almost died. Beside her, she heard Arianna make a barely audible moan. Instinctively, Rhea grasped her younger sister’s hand and squeezed it tight. If any of them attempted to leave, protest, or stop Ruckley in the pursuit of his pleasure, they would find themselves enduring the same punishment.