ladyship, was for Claire, his second for Alice. Since then, both those thoughts had remained uppermost and urgent in his mind as he tried to find them in the chaos.
Then, out of a porthole, he had a glimpse of Claire—no longer in evening dress, and with the lightning rifle out and ready, tearing across the field with the Mopsies—which galvanized him into action. He had left the young officer he was tending to the medic who had finally arrived, and sprinted after Claire, only to lose her in the shouting, panicked crowd at the gates of the mine.
Then, to his horror, he heard a man’s name taken up with chants of “Hang him!” and realized who the man in the middle of the crowd must be. Tall, blond, one eye, and with the same wide mouth and firm chin—it could only be Alice’s father.
“Get Isobel!” Chalmers shouted into the screaming crowd—and a second later, Andrew tripped over a pair of booted feet and fell to his hands and knees with bone-jarring force.
“All right, sir?” Someone hauled him up by one arm. Someone with a familiar voice.
“Jake?” He got to his feet to see that the crowd had moved on, dragging Chalmers deeper into the circle of buildings. “Jake, what is going on? Is that Alice’s father?”
“It is. They’re going t’blame the explosion on ’im and ’ang ’im for it. I just saw T’Lady run off—I ’ope she’s gone t’fetch ’elp.”
“Is she all right? I must find her.”
“Ent nowt you c’n do fer her, but you c’n give me a hand.”
“Jake, you don’t understand—she will be hurt.”
“The Lady?” The boy snorted with derision. “Not likely. She’s armed and in a fine uproar of a temper. Don’t you worry about ’er—worry about yer own self. She gave me a job and I can’t do it and do wot Alice’s dad said, too. You gots to ’elp me.”
Was he ever to be useful to Claire on this benighted journey? How was she to see him as a man she could trust with her life and future if she kept leaving him behind to go and save people? Andrew reined his emotions in with an act of will and focused on the boy in front of him, whose desperate eyes belied the curl still on his lip.
“All right, then. What can I do?”
“The Lady bid me follow Alice’s dad and report back to ’er when I found out where they’re goin’ wiv ’im. But he needs someone t’find that Isobel Churchill, and I reckon that’s you.”
“I heard him shout. But why—”
“Dunno, and it don’t matter. A desperate man shouts for ’er, seems a bloke ought t’find ’er.”
Privately, Andrew thought that a desperate man might call a woman’s name if he were having a love affair with her and wanted to see her one last time before he met his doom, but that was none of his business. “Right. I shall do that, and bring her … where?”
“You ought’nt to ’ave much trouble ’earing where ’e is, ’specially if they’re to ’ang ’im. Folks tend to get loud on such occasions.”
“I trust you have not learned this from experience?”
“Mr. Malvern, sir, wiv all due respect, we ent got time.”
“Quite right. To the Skylark, then, as quick as may be.”
Andrew had only had the briefest glimpse of Isobel Churchill this evening on the Margrethe. He had wanted to ask her to dance, but by the time he had screwed his courage up to the sticking point, he could no longer see her among the dancers or at the buffet. And after the explosion, he did not remember seeing her at all.
When danger threatened, it seemed logical that a woman would take her only child and flee to safety. He would begin with the Skylark.
She did not even have a crewman posted at the base of the steps. “Mrs. Churchill?” he called as he emerged onto the lower deck. “Mrs. Churchill, are you here?”
Peony dropped down the gangway from B deck and landed lightly in front of him. “Mr. Malvern, what a surprise.”
“Miss Churchill, this is no social call. They’re about to hang Frederick Chalmers for sabotage and he is calling foris size=" your mother. Is she here?”
Peony’s flushed cheeks drained of all color. “That can’t be true.”
“I heard it myself. Time is of the essence. Is your mother here?”
“Yes.” She turned and climbed the gangway as nimbly as she had come down it, seeing as she was wearing riding breeches. “She’s sending a pigeon.” He resolutely