you go from here? You have no money, no means."
Her eyes burned with a fierce light. "Oh, yes, I do. Gold brought me here, and gold will take me away."
A yelp of dismay escaped him as she held the watch aloft and twisted, shattering the last chain that
bound her to Justin Connor.
Part II
Now cracks a noble heart. Good
night, sweet prince:
And flights of angels sing thee to
thy rest!
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Chapter 15
I would trade all the gold in New Zealand
to see your mama's smile one more time. . .
London
Amelia Winters flinched as the thunderous crash of a door and shouting masculine voices shattered the quiet of her domain. Her fingers tightened into claws on the win-dowsill. Outside, sleet skittered from
the pewter sky, coating the tiny garden within the walled courtyard in a shiny layer of ice. Amelia stared absently at the dormant rosebushes. They needed to be pruned. She'd been forced to let the gardener
go with a tidy sum after he'd threatened to summon the constable when the Scarborough girl had stabbed his son.
The door behind her creaked open. Timid feet shuffled on the worn carpet. "His Grace, the Duke of Winthrop, to see you, ma'am."
"Show him in."
"Aye, mum."
Amelia smiled bitterly. Doreen always slipped back into cockney in moments of travail. It was a habit Amelia had bred out of herself after she had clawed her own way out of a rookery crib to found this school.
Heavy footsteps shuddered the floorboards. They might have been the footsteps of her executioner. London had been abuzz with the young duke's return for over a week, and now she knew her brief reprieve was done.
The door slammed into the wall. Cold air from the foyer buffeted her. Amelia steeled her spine and swung around, somewhat relieved to finally come face-to-face with her most dreaded nightmare.
Her relief was short-lived. A man stood in the doorway, tall, gaunt, but undeniably striking. Drops of melted sleet beaded the cape of his greatcoat. He was scandalously hatless, and his eyes burned like
twin flames beneath a sweeping fall of dark hair. His clenched jaw was shaded not with a proper beard, but by the stubble of a savage. She had heard rumors that he'd been living with cannibals for the past seven years. He looked more than eager to devour her frail bones.
His sheer masculine presence dwarfed the shabby parlor. The room seemed suddenly full of people. Doreen hovered at the door, her homely face more pinched and pale than usual. Barney stood behind their callers, eyeing them with ill-disguised hostility. The slender stranger at the duke's elbow tipped his bowler to her, his face a bland, affable mask that did not fool Amelia for an instant.
The duke moved toward her, his greatcoat swirling around his boots. She realized that despite the silver threads at his temples and the sun-etched lines around his eyes, Justin Connor was younger than she had expected. Much younger. And far more dangerous. She clutched at the high collar of her blouse.
"I have come for my ward," he announced, giving her a bow so brief as to be an insult. A volatile muscle twitched in his cheek. "Your Miss Dobbins has tried to tell me that she is not in residence at this school."
A sharp cough failed to unravel the knot in Amelia's throat. She was terrified his knowing eyes would burn away the layers of her deceit, exposing the ugly truth for him to see. "I fear she is correct."
"Then I demand an explanation. My partner David Scarborough left his only child, Claire, in your care seven years ago. I have written record of it."
"As do I. But as my staff tried to tell you, she is no longer here."
Justin raked a hand through his hair, thankful for Bentley Chalmers's unruffled presence at his elbow. This woman's cryptic explanations were maddening him to distraction. He had wasted a week working
up the courage to come to this place. A week in which his old insomnia had returned with a vengeance.
A week of driving past the school in his luxurious carriage, wondering which of the lighted windows
might be Claire's. He had risked everything to come here. Even Emily.
A maid carrying a bucket of coal slipped into the parlor. Justin sighed, summoning his last ounce of self-control. "Then would you mind telling me where I might find Claire Scarborough?"
Was it a reflection of the fire, or did he see a flicker of malicious satisfaction in the old woman's eyes?
"I haven't the faintest idea where the girl is. She ran away months ago."
Blood roared through Justin's ears. The room went dark, then red. Then he was moving forward, only dimly aware of hands tugging at him and a woman's terrified keening.
"Your Grace!" It was Chalmers's imperturbable voice, shaken to near hysteria, that finally reached him.
The room slowly lightened. Chalmers held his arm while the sullen lad with the big ears clung to his leg. Justin shook the boy off like a mongrel pup. The young teacher had pressed a handkerchief to her mouth to muffle a scream, her complexion as chalky as her mistress's. The maid was a vague white shape, open-mouthed and wide-eyed at the hearth.
Only Amelia Winters stood unmoving, almost as if she expected his blow, even welcomed it. Stricken to his soul, Justin lowered his arm.
Wringing her hands, the old woman began to babble. "I did everything in my power, but the child was always headstrong and wicked. I could not control her. I tried to guide her by the Christian principles of discipline and self-restraint, but she remained unrepentant and hopelessly ill behaved."
Justin gripped the spine of a rosewood armchair, sickened by how close he had come to striking this woman. He bowed his head. He was too late. The child was gone. He had come this close only to lose her, perhaps forever. His own cowardice had cost him the girl. What right did he have to berate this pathetic old woman?
Her voice soared on a note of hysteria. "Even with my limited means I gave her the best care and education I could afford. Why, I treated her like my very own child!"
"She's lying!"
The words burst out like a breath of wind in the stale air of the parlor. Justin jerked his head up. The
coal bucket clattered to the hearth in a cloud of ashes. The young maid marched toward him, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Shut yer trap, Tansy, or I'll shut it for ya," the boy snarled, starting for her.
With one smooth motion Justin grabbed Chalmers's cane and slammed it down across a table, neatly blocking the boy's path. He ducked his head and shot Justin a glare of pure hatred.
Even in his agitation Justin couldn't help but notice how startlingly pretty the maid was. Silky tendrils of black hair escaped her drooping mobcap. Her drab, stained apron couldn't hide the bold curves beneath the limp ruffles.
Her brilliant blue eyes brimmed with angry tears. "The old witch is lyin'. She treated the girl like a bloody