of them believed they were weak because of it. Poppy rather thought the opposite. That they were the brave ones who had been chased by death and escaped to forge onward.
She did not stop until they were beneath the arbor, now dark with shadows and thick with the scent of roses in the warm, moonlit night. Win sat with a thud upon the stone bench, and she followed him down, placing a hand on his fevered brow. Her touch grew chilled, cooling him. “Win,” she whispered, looking into his unseeing eyes, “come back to me.”
He struggled for breath and she pulled him close, stroking his ravaged cheek. “Win, who was that man?”
His hands clutched her upper arms hard. “My brother.”
Her heart stilled. Win’s family had always been rather a closed subject. Which Poppy hadn’t fought, as she was likely to work herself into an indignant state when she thought of their treatment of him, of how they had abandoned him without a backward glance, solely because he had chosen to become a detective. She cringed now. All of that had been a lie. A bloody trick.
She thought of the man they’d just encountered. He was younger than Mrs. Noble but perhaps a bit older than them. He didn’t look anything like Winston but had raven hair and coal black eyes. His features were more Gallic than Anglo-Saxon. “He looked right at you. How could he not recognize you?”
Win’s head jerked up. “Why should he? He’s been led to think his brother is dead. It’s Isley’s bloody bargain at play, after all.” His features twisted. “Never mind that I hardly look as I did before.”
Her stomach dipped. “But to not have even experienced a glimmer of recognition? To not even feel… something?”
Win laughed, a dark, unhinged sound. “You of all people ought to understand with whom we are dealing. He altered our lives, Poppy. He can twist things until up is down. How are we to know what is real and what is not?”
In her heart of hearts, she did not like to give Isley credit for the power he wielded. Certainly not now. Not when it was her life he’d toyed with, violated. She lurched up and began to pace, needing to feel her limbs move over solid ground. “Why is your brother here? And with Mrs. Noble? It cannot be a coincidence. She knew you would be affected. Her little grin was downright nasty.” The bitch. “She knows who we are, Win. She must.”
Win rose as well and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Isley is playing with us. Enjoying our pain and frantic searching. I do not want to believe that Osmond too is ensnared by Isley, but he may well be.”
“Osmond?”
“My brother.” He lowered his hand. “I’m sure I told you his name.”
“I would have remembered that. You always referred to him simply as your brother.” Poppy’s lips twitched. “Your parents certainly were creative with their name giving.”
Winston leveled a glare at her, but she could tell he was trying not to smile. He had never liked his name and had grumbled about it when they’d first met. “Father fancied old English names. Undoubtedly he sought to shout to the world our Englishness through and through. My brother goes by Oz, or Marchland now, I suppose. Jesus.”
He rounded on her. “I believe you are correct, however. Mrs. Noble looked at you as though she knew you.”
“You noticed that as well? I did not like that look. It was as if she was seeing straight into me.” She rolled her shoulders as if the movement could dispel the sticky feeling that crept along her skin.
“Damn it.” He started to pace along the path she’d beaten down. “None of Isley’s victims ought to remember him, and yet they do. I have to believe it is because Isley has allowed it, that he wants us to find Moira Darling.”
“Well of course, he wants us to find her. Why else would he make the bargain with you?”
“No,” he stopped. “You misunderstand. I think he knows exactly where Moira Darling is. If you remember, he asked me to find what Moira Darling stole from him. Not necessarily to find her.”
Poppy’s blasted corset held her too tight to draw a proper breath. “He would hardly need you for that. If he knew where she was, he could easily force her to give whatever it is back to him.”
Standing half in shadow, the ruined side of Win’s face glowed in the moonlight. “Something is