His mouth tightened, and again he bowed and most definitely directed her in the opposite way from the home.
“I suppose I can trust you?” she said.
He grinned, which did not at all set her mind at rest. On the other hand, he had saved her, and with such a notorious escort, she had no fear of being accosted again.
“Very well.” She lifted her skirts and then stopped as she saw someone beyond him.
There on the other side of the street was Mickey O’Connor. He stood facing her, hands on hips, a slight frown between his beautiful brows, making no attempt to conceal himself from her.
But then why would he have any reason to hide from her?
He nodded, acknowledging he knew she’d seen him, and she looked away, her breath trembling in her throat. That was when she realized that the Ghost had tightened his fist on the hilt of his sword.
“No, don’t,” she said, laying a hand on his arm.
He looked at her, his head cocked to the side in inquiry.
Silence didn’t know if she was worried for him or for Mr. O’Connor. She only knew she’d seen enough bloodshed for the night. “Please.”
He nodded once and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword.
Silence couldn’t help it. She looked again across the street.
Mr. O’Connor’s black gaze bored into her. He didn’t look at all happy.
She deliberately turned away. “This way, did you say?”
The Ghost nodded and they set off. For the first couple of minutes, as Silence picked her way over the cobblestones, she felt Mr. O’Connor’s gaze on her back. She refused to turn around, to acknowledge him in any way, and after a bit she no longer felt the sensation.
She let out a breath and concentrated on her surroundings. The Ghost walked with an almost soundless tread, light and athletic. His head was up, and he seemed almost to scent the wind. Twice he stopped and turned down a different street as if to avoid the mob. Once he took her arm and urged her into a run, just before she heard shouts from behind them. Oddly, though he never spoke and she couldn’t see most of his face, she never felt afraid of him.
When at last they came within sight of the temporary home, Silence stopped short. There was a crowd of people outside the home’s doors, but she could see in the light of the lanterns they held that they were soldiers.
“Whatever are soldiers doing here?” she asked.
Obviously she didn’t expect an answer, but when she turned, she was surprised to find herself alone. She glanced quickly up the street, but there was no sign of the Ghost.
The Ghost had disappeared as abruptly as he’d appeared.
“Men are so maddening,” Silence muttered to herself, and started for the home.
“Mrs. Hollingbrook!” Nell appeared at the home’s door and ran toward her. “Oh, ma’am! We were that worried for you. Three informers have been murdered tonight—or so they say. There was rioting in the streets, and Mr. Makepeace has been beside himself. I’ve never seen him in such a state before.”
“Where is Winter?” Silence asked distractedly. “Is that Lady Hero?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nell said. “And the Duke of Wakefield himself! You can’t credit the excitement there’s been.”
Silence squinted. It looked very much as if…“Is Lady Hero kissing Lord Griffin?”
Nell nodded. “She’s engaged to him.”
“But I thought she was engaged to his brother, the Marquess of Mandeville,” Silence said, feeling very confused.
Nell shrugged. “Not by the looks of it.”
And indeed Lady Hero seemed quite affectionate with Lord Griffin. Silence was still trying to puzzle the matter out when Winter suddenly appeared, hatless and panting.
“Thank God!” He wrapped her in a bear hug, an extraordinary demonstration of affection for Winter. “We feared the worst.”
“I’m sorry,” Silence gasped. “I had to move the baby to a new wet nurse, and by the time I was done, it was already dark.”
Winter stepped back and closed his eyes. “Well, no more. I don’t think I could survive another night like this one. From now on, we only go out in pairs.”
Silence nodded. “You’re right. If it hadn’t been for the Ghost of St. Giles—”
He turned suddenly and pierced her with a stare. “What?”
She blinked, taken aback. “The Ghost of St. Giles. I saw him. He was the one who escorted me home safely.”
No need to go into how he’d found her. Winter was already anxious about her well-being without telling him how close she’d come to rape—and worse.
Winter lifted his head, glancing about the dark street. “He was here?”