sound he made and when she was certain he’d walked away far enough, and hopefully wasn’t facing her, she took a chance.
Lydia opened one eye a tiny bit and saw a bald man with glasses nearby. He was examining the other woman’s body on a table, mumbling to himself. Lydia opened both eyes then, hastily taking in her surroundings. She was in a workshop of sorts, with medical instruments littering the various surfaces. She had to find a way out of here. Had she trusted the doctor to be honorable, she would have spoken up and let him know she was alive, but that wasn’t something she was certain of. He was paying for bodies and didn’t care much how Burke and Hare came across them. She did not want to take the chance.
She found a small knife on the table next to her, and an idea sprang to her mind. The doctor hummed as he stood next to the other table with the dead woman. Lydia seized the knife, curled her fingers around the cold metal of the instrument, and threw it as hard as she could. It clattered down the corridor. She closed her eyes as the doctor spun and headed in the direction of the sound, calling out to see if anyone was there.
The moment he was gone, Lydia flew off the table and scrambled for the door. She rushed out into the cool night, gasping as she took in a lungful of air. She ran, heedless of direction at first, just so long as it was away from there. Only when she knew she wasn’t being followed did she finally slow down. Then she stopped, her feet aching from the sprint.
The street was dark and empty, and she felt suddenly small and afraid. She didn’t know the city, didn’t know where Brodie was, or her father, at least not from this part of town. Anyone outside at this time of night might not be safe to ask for directions. But as filled with fear as she was, she forced herself to keep moving until she found a tavern. She didn’t dare go inside, but she waited for what felt like ages until she saw a barmaid come out of a side door and pour a bucket of dirty water upon the ground.
“Excuse me, miss, could you tell me where the Royal Mile is from here?” She gave the girl the address of Rafe’s townhouse.
“Ooh. Fancy place, that. ’Tis about a half mile away. Ye can take this road ’ere and walk until ye see the weavin’ mill. Then take a right and keep walkin’ until ye see the townhouses on Royal Mile.”
“Thank you, miss. I wish I could repay you for your kindness.” Lydia would have given the girl money, but her reticule was missing. Likely Burke or Hare had stolen it off her body when they believed her to be dead.
“Not to worry,” the maid said. “Be careful. Not too many will be friendly to a sweet Sassenach like ye at this time of night.”
“I will be careful. Thank you.”
She started in the direction the girl had pointed, her head throbbing, her feet sore, and her body aching from the fall when she’d been tackled to the ground. All she wanted was to be in Brodie’s arms, to feel safe. No doubt he would rage at her for running off, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to be with him. He was her only light in the dark streets of Edinburgh.
“It’s awfully quiet up there. I bet your darling kitten is asleep. You can safely join her in bed now if you wish,” Rafe teased.
Brodie was still weighed down with guilt as he stood. The whiskey he’d drunk tonight would have felled a lesser man, but not Brodie. He shook off the effects and started up the stairs, ignoring Rafe’s laughter. When he unlocked the door to Lydia’s room, he whispered her name.
“Lass? Are you there?” he whispered again when no sound greeted him. A single candle was lit in the darkened room, and there was an unmistakable sense of emptiness.
“Lydia?” His panic began to increase when she still didn’t answer. He retrieved the candle and searched the room. The room was empty, and a sash window stood open at the opposite end from the door, a light breeze billowing the curtains out.