his gut. “How long has she been gone?”
Joe’s eyes wandered to a high corner of the entry hall, as if the answer to the question resided in the crown molding. “I’d say five . . . six hours at most, sir.”
“She should have been back by now.” The sick feeling intensified, transformed into a tingling panic. “Where in St. Giles, Joe? I need an address. And the mare saddled.”
Joe provided an address that only increased James’s alarm. “You should have stopped her. You know how dangerous that area is.”
“Too late now, sir, pardon my sayin’ so.”
Dearest Jesus, do not let it be too late. Don’t let her come to any harm.
Joe was quick to saddle the mare. James jumped up onto the horse’s back and trotted toward St. Giles as fast as traffic would permit. Not fast enough for him.
Along Oxford Street, inky darkness slithered through the alleyways, seeking the low and hidden crevices. A horrible place for a lone woman to be, a target for predators. Laughter spilled through the door of a pub, rolling into the street like a splash of filthy water from a washbasin. A lamplighter hobbled along the pavement, his ladder over one arm and his flint box and supply of cotton wicks secured on the other, the sparsely spaced streetlamps springing to life as he advanced. The lamps were spaced far apart and stretches of the roadway remained in shadow, providing cover for criminals.
Rachel was out in this, attending to Molly because he had been using his meeting with Dr. Calvert as an excuse not to return home at a reasonable hour. Sharp words had passed between him and Rachel over Molly, and neither had figured out a way to restore the relationship they’d had before. It had been easier for him to avoid Rachel completely. A coward’s actions.
James kicked his mare into a canter and stretched his neck to scan the road. There were plenty of people on the streets—shop workers heading home, a couple of ragged men dodging carts to collect dung from the roadway, girls selling the waste of the day’s vegetables. Not a one of them Rachel. Sweat trickled beneath James’s collar to itch along his neck and back. He might have missed her, passing in an omnibus or a hired coach as he came out to search. Or she was still up ahead in St. Giles.
In a fit of agitation, he jabbed his heels into his horse’s side, making the mare shy sideways. James clutched the pommel and cursed his stupidity. Getting tossed onto the cobblestones and bashing his brains out would help no one.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar figure walking along Oxford Street. He let out a breath. Thank You, God.
Setting his features sternly, he guided the horse over to her. “Miss Dunne, you should not be walking the streets of London at this hour.”
“I do not have the fare to do otherwise.” Her shoulders drooped beneath the shawl she had thrown over them, as though she were weary of the world and everything in it.
“It’s dangerous in St. Giles. Perhaps you were unaware, but any manner of evil could have befallen you. And here you are, alone, unchaperoned, easy prey,” he barked, angry at her, at himself. She could have been assaulted. Because of his cowardice.
Because of him.
“I completely understand how dangerous, how awful St. Giles is, Dr. Edmunds,” she said with sudden rancor. “Absolutely, completely understand. Oh God.” Her chest heaved with a shuddering breath, and she began to sob.
James jumped off the horse and took her shoulders in his hands. Her entire body trembled and the vibration moved through his palms, down his arms. “What is it? Something has happened to you. Did someone harm you?” He would kill them. God forgive his sinful thought, but he would hunt down the man who would dare to hurt her.
“No one assaulted me.” Rachel pressed her lips together, released them again. “It’s Molly. She is dead.”
The word rang out, echoed in his head, though she had only whispered it. “No.”
“Indeed, she very much is.” She looked up at him, her eyes frighteningly intense. “I could not save her. She died. She lost the baby and she died. No matter what I gave her, or how often I bathed her forehead. Her passing was so quick too. It should have taken the entire night, but she was gone barely hours after I arrived. Now she is cold and stiff on