Page 83 of When You Rescued Me

“She is seated near the fireplace at your left, my lord,” Clarke said.

Samuel bit back his frustration. Once again, his reluctance to broach a difficult subject had cost him what was likely his only opportunity this evening. With Sir John’s arrival, all hope for a private conversation was gone. “Are you able to stand?” he asked Hannah.

She nodded. “I believe so.”

Releasing his hold on her, he stood and offered her his hand. She took it and carefully came to her feet.

On the other side of the room, the swish of Sir John’s cane cut through some of the loose papers.

“Lady Telford is before you, my lord,” Clarke said, for all the world as though he were guiding Sir John through the receiving line the lady had stood in hours earlier rather than introducing him to a shaken women seated on an armchair housing a bullet hole within a barely recognizable library.

“Lady Telford.” Sir John bowed, although whether he knew that Jealous was currently assisting her ladyship to her feet, Samuel could not tell.

“Sir John!” No matter all that she had recently experienced, Lady Telford’s shock at seeing him was unmistakable. “What are you doing here?”

“I am come to return some valuables that I believe belong to you,” he said, handing her a small pouch.

“I . . . I . . . do not understand.” She took the proffered bag, released the leather tie, and studied its contents. “My mother’s earrings! How—” She placed a hand to her forehead. “Please explain how these came to be in your keeping when they were in my bedchamber earlier this evening.”

“One of my men uncovered the bag of jewelry beside a bush in your back garden. It would seem that it was tossed from the window of your bedchamber by one of the felons who chose to target you and your valuables this evening.”

Lady Telford swayed. “Kidnapping, robbery, shootings.” She surveyed the shambles around her. “This is the night of my much-­anticipated winter ball.” A hint of hysteria entered her voice. “How could this have happened?”

“I fear the answer to that question is all too simple, my lady,” Sir John said. “It happened because you—like many others in Society—considered yourself immune to the evil designs of ne’er-do-wells. You ignored the warning issued by my office and refused the assistance of my men.” He cleared his throat. “Though I was not invited to your ball, I took it upon myself to be in the area. And thankfully, several of my men were also nearby.”

Her gaze flitted from one occupant of the room to the other. “Your men.” She stopped when her eyes landed on Samuel. “Am I to understand that you are one of Sir John’s men, Mr. Ross?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And you were aware of Mr. Ross’s occupation before you brought him to my ball, Miss Dennington?”

Hannah raised her chin a fraction. “Yes, my lady.”

Lady Telford maintained her penetrating look a fraction longer. And then she cleared her throat. “I believe I owe the two of you my life.” She raised the bag in her hand. “And I owe the gentleman who retrieved my family’s valuables my deepest thanks.”

“Clarke,” Sir John said, “accept the credit you are due.”

Clarke bowed. “Glad to be of service, my lady.”

“I assume the emerald pierre you have been so publicly promoting remains in your keeping?” Sir John said.

Lady Telford touched the emerald hanging from her neck. “It does.”

“Excellent. Well, I shall leave you to return to your guests, then.” Sir John extended his cane and started toward the french doors. Lady Telford watched in stunned silence until he reached the exit and turned back to face her. “Would you allow one of my men to return tomorrow to discuss this evening’s events with you more fully?”

“Yes,” she said dazedly, and then seeming to rally somewhat, she added, “During calling hours, of course.”

Sir John gave the ghost of a smile. “Perhaps the latter end of calling hours would be most advisable, so as to allow you the maximum time to recover.”

“I believe that would be for the best,” she said, raising an unsteady hand to touch a lock of artificial hair that had fallen free of her white wig.

Sir John inclined his head, the pale light picking up the black band around his forehead. “Miss Dennington, I am anxious to hear the details of your part in this evening’s proceedings,” he said, “but you already have my heartfelt thanks and admiration.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Hannah said.

“Clarke, Jealous, Ross,” Sir John continued, “come with me. Stephenson and Saunders have already rounded up the men who were lying in wait to assist Aitken and Grimsby with their escape. Barnes will require your assistance with their disreputable and wounded gang leaders.”

Samuel eyed Hannah with concern. Though Sir John had issued him a direct order, he did not want to abandon her here. “May I take you to your sisters or your father before I leave?” he asked.