Ghost of the Thames (6 page)

“I am not hurt,” he said, his tone
gentle again.

The carriage started. Concerned, she
looked out the window. “Whatever happened to those inside the shed?
And the woman hiding outside?”

“It took a bit of convincing, but the
ruffians delivering the women and the proprietor of the Broken Oar
saw the wisdom of being agreeable. The village constable and the
river policeman who happened to be dining with him this evening
were a great help. Everything is under control; the captives are
free and will remain so. The constable will see to it that they are
delivered to the authorities who will help them.”

She moved to the edge of the seat, not
comfortable with the arrangement.

“You are
not
going to jump out of
a moving carriage. There is not enough room at Urania Cottage to
take all these lost women,” he said, putting a hand on her knee.
“They are safe, and they will be provided for. For the moment, at
least, this is the best we can do.”

His hand was warm, and Sophy felt
flustered by his touch. She sank back against the seat, and he
removed his hand.

“Now,” he said, a note of command
returning to his voice. “You can explain what you were doing
there.”

Twice now, her guide had
put Sophy in the path of this man. She wondered why. “You might
explain what
you
were doing there.”

“That’s none of your concern. I’m the
one who is asking..”

“
Actually, I was
following—” She stopped, afraid that if she talked about ghosts,
his next stop would be at an asylum.

“You were following . . .
?”

“A memory.” Sophy touched her forehead
like she was still in pain. “I woke up with this place in my head,
and I knew I had to go there. Perhaps I’ve visited this tavern
before. I had to come here. The rest—going to that woman’s aid—was
just the reaction to the villainy I came upon.”

“So you woke up,” he said
incredulously, “but you couldn’t wait for morning to come
here?”

“I was afraid of forgetting. I thought
the place might hold a key to my past.”

He ran a hand over his chin. “Would
you like me to have my driver take us back to the tavern? The
constable was taking charge of the proprietor, to ask a question or
two, but there might be someone else in there who will recognize
you.”

“No,” she said sharply. “Not tonight,
at least. This headache, you know.”

Sophy forced herself not to wither
under his hard gaze. She was afraid he would question her further,
force her to tell the truth.

“And how are the wounds on your head?
The dressing is gone, I see.”

Taking her chin he tilted her head to
look at her injuries in the dim light coming in from the
outside.

She sat, dumbfounded at her response.
Her skin seemed to catch fire at the touch of his fingers, her
stomach twisting in an unfamiliar but not unpleasant way.
Recovering, she leaned back out of his reach and looked
away.

Silence filled the
carriage.

“Would you mind taking me back to
Urania Cottage?” she asked, daring to glance at him. He was
studying her too intensely for comfort.

“That is precisely where my driver is
going,” he answered. “Tell me, other than the dream tonight of the
Broken Oar Tavern, have you been remembering anything more of your
past?”

She shook her head. “It’s very
frustrating, but no.”

“I hope you were not offended that I
left you some money.”

“Oh, I
meant
to thank you,” she said
quickly. “Mrs. Tibbs showed what you had left for me. You are very
generous, Captain.”

“You do understand that you cannot
stay at the Cottage permanently.”

Sophy nodded. “I’m hoping to delay
them putting me out on the street. I could not have simply sprung
to life from dust and fog and river. There must be people who know
me. Someplace I must have called home. But no matter how hard I
think, I can recall only the river and what happened after coming
out of it. It is very frustrating not to be able to remember what
my life was before that.”

She had been reminded by
Mrs. Tibbs that she was dressed in the tattered clothing of a man
when brought to Urania Cottage. The inference to be drawn
from
that
was
horrifying. The empty hole of her recent past was as murky as what
might become of her in the very near future.

“You remembered how to get to
Hammersmith tonight. That is a hopeful sign, at least. Perhaps you
are from that village.”

Sophy met his gaze. She wished she
could tell him the truth. She recognized nothing of the wet,
dilapidated village. She could just as easily be from the
moon.

They were now rolling noisily over the
cobbled streets of London’s western suburbs, and before long the
carriage came to a stop. She looked outside the window and saw the
brick walls of Urania Cottage. She watched him put his hand out to
open the door. He stopped and looked into her eyes.

“Did anyone know that you left the
house tonight?”

“No.”

“You might get into trouble if they
found you left the premises.”

“That is true.” Sophy looked at the
house apprehensively. “The girls living here have very strict rules
they need to abide by. Do you think they would put me on the street
tonight?”

“If asked, you tell Mrs. Tibbs that
you left the Cottage at my instruction, and that any further
inquiries should be directed to me.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Sophy was surprised when he stepped
out of the carriage and offered his hand. She took it. The effect
was the same as before, and she felt the sudden rush of beating
wings in her stomach.

Outside, the smell of the coming dawn
was in the air. She took a deep breath and tried to rekindle some
memory. Nothing. Everything seemed so new.

“The next time you dream of a place
you remember, you will wait for the daylight. Do you
understand?”

She noticed his imposing height for
the first time. His mood was quick to change, and she could hear
the tone of command in his voice now.

“Yes, Captain.”

“You do understand that you exposed
yourself to extreme danger tonight.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And you will not, in the future, ask
for anyone’s pistol.”

“No, Captain,” she replied in a
serious tone. “I know it is better just to take it, fire it, and
return it to its owner rather than asking permission.”

His face darkened. A muscle twitched
in his jaw.

“I should go in,” she said quickly,
starting toward the alley leading to the back door.

“Sophy,” he called after
her.

She turned. “Yes, Captain?”

“I will be going back to Hammersmith
Village tomorrow midday on an inquiry of my own. I can take
you.”

She wished she never had to go back
there. She knew there was no need. But she also knew that the
opportunity of seeing Captain Seymour again made it more than
worthwhile. In fact, it changed everything.

“Thank you. I would like that,” she
replied, turning and disappearing into the shadows.

CHAPTER 6

Sophy was a temptation.

How long had it been since he’d been
with a woman? Too long, Edward thought. Just one hint of
encouragement from her and he would find a room at the nearest inn
and take her there.

Her hesitation and her vulnerability,
though, had only encouraged him to behave like a gentleman. Down
deep, he didn’t know for certain if her amnesia and her actions
were honest or diabolically calculating, but he did know one thing:
he was truly entranced by her beauty and her boldness in action. In
fact, he was downright excited at the prospect of seeing her
again.

Even at twenty eight years of age,
Edward had never had a mistress for any extended period of time. As
far as marriage, it never struck him as fair or even logical to
keep a woman waiting for him during the long absences required by
his service to the Royal Navy—and he’d never met anyone that he
cared about enough to keep him home.

The carriage stopped in front of the
house and Edward stepped out. The rosy light of dawn was already
spreading across the eastern sky. Inside, he was not surprised to
be greeted by Reeves, his butler. The housekeeper, Mrs. Perkins,
was waiting only a few steps behind.

The household staff, especially Mrs.
Perkins, continued to be very anxious for any news of the
sixteen-year-old Amelia. For the past three years, Mrs. Perkins had
been the one primarily charged with overseeing the succession of
governesses and tutors for the young woman. She continued to
express the guilt she felt so keenly at what she saw as her lack of
supervision the night of the young people’s
disappearance.

From all accounts Edward
knew there was no negligence involved. Amelia had never been wild.
She was an intelligent and prudent young woman, and barely knew the
young man. There had been no forewarning of what was to occur. No
one
could
have
suspected the sudden elopement.

“Tell me,” he chided gently, “that you
two are up early this morning and did not wait up the entire
night.”

“Just up, Captain,” the lanky old man
lied with a quick warning look at the housekeeper.

The housekeeper spoke up for the first
time. “Please, Captain. Do you have any encouraging news of Miss
Amelia?”

“No, Mrs. Perkins. Another blind
alley.” Shaking his head, Edward started toward his study. Tired as
he was, the dreaded letter needed to be written. It was time to
admit to his father, who was stationed on practically the other
side of the world, that Amelia was missing—and had been missing for
two months.

“Will you be wanting your breakfast
now?”

“Thank you, but no, Mrs. Perkins,”
Edward replied. “I am not hungry just now.”

“Staying healthy requires nourishment
and sleep, Captain. You’ve forfeited sleep. And you are looking
pale.”

“All right, Mrs. Perkins. I’ll have my
breakfast,” he said, surrendering. “But I should like to have it in
an hour. I’ve decided to write to the admiral about
Amelia.”

“Oh my!” Mrs. Perkins visibly winced
and sent Edward a sympathetic look before turning toward the
kitchens.

As Edward poured himself a glass of
Madeira, he watched the butler straighten unanswered correspondence
on the desk. Without comment, Reeves selected a specific note and
placed it on top.

Edward moved around behind his desk.
“Is that letter of particular interest?”

“An invitation to a party at the home
of Lord Beauchamp, sir. One event that is essential for you to
attend.”

“How do you know what it is? The
letter is sealed.”

“Lord Latham stopped by last
night.”

“I see.” He shook his head, sitting
down at the desk.

Wren Latham had been his closest
friend of more than two decades. A member of Parliament from
Yorkshire, Wren was determined to have Edward give up his
commission, retire from the Navy, and run for a seat. After he
received a shoulder wound that continued to plague him, his father,
Admiral Seymour, had made the same suggestion. But these were
decisions that Edward was not ready to make.

Reeves put the invitation in front of
him. “The guest list includes other influential members of
Parliament. Perhaps it would be best not to think of it as a social
event, but as an investment of your time in a future career,
Captain.”

Edward picked up the envelope and
studied the seal. Beauchamp’s fortune came from his vast
investments in shipping and his family connection with Queen
Victoria, herself. Not a person to snub, certainly.

He glanced at the pile of other
invitations that sat ignored in the corner of his desk. Amelia’s
elopement might seem scandalous to the Seymour family, but London
society was ignoring the blunder. At least for now . . . and until
the rest of the truth was discovered. Somehow, he had to find the
right words to break the news to the old man. He knew he needed to
appease the admiral at the same time, when actually all he wanted
to say was that he wanted his niece back alive and well, regardless
of any mistake she might have already made.

Edward tossed the sealed invitation on
the unanswered pile and began to write.

“To Admiral Alexander
Seymour, Commander-in-Chief of the East Indies Fleet and
China.
”

CHAPTER 7

No one knew she’d been gone. No one
heard her when she got back. Sophy was more than happy to hide her
exhaustion, show up in the kitchen before being called, and offer
to do morning chores. She was eager to please.

“We have very important guests coming
this morning,” Mrs. Tibbs told her. “The benefactors have expressed
an interest in speaking with you.”