“Twitchett will be watching at the window. Between the two of you, I am sure you will keep me in your sights until I am safely through the front door.”
The carriage slowed to a stop.
Silence ensued.
Ava didn’t want to leave him. She reached out and took hold of his hand. “Thank you for coming to my aid this evening. Thank you for assisting me with the pawnbroker yesterday. Clearly I was wrong when I said I could take care of myself.”
“Everyone needs help at some point in their lives.” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Not everyone finds the strength to ask.”
Their gazes locked. She felt the essence of his soul stretch across the carriage to soothe her senses. Until a sudden and violent rap on the window sent her heart shooting up to her mouth.
“What the hell?” Valentine blurted, equally surprised by the aggressive nature of the caller. He peered through the glass at the figure beyond. “It’s your butler.”
“Twitchett? But he is always so calm and rational.”
Valentine glanced at her and raised a brow. “Most people would say the same about me, and yet in your company, I appear to have lost all grasp of logic.” He leant forward and opened the door.
“Forgive me, my lord,” Twitchett panted in a stream of white mist. “But you must come quickly. There has been an incident at the house.”
“An incident?” Ava shifted to the edge of the seat. “Is it Mrs Stagg? Is she hurt?”
“No, but she is shaken. I’ve given her brandy to settle her nerves.”
Without further comment, Valentine moved to the door and vaulted down to the pavement. He turned and offered Ava his hand. His other hand settled on her waist, and he assisted her descent.
“Thank you.” She was about to suggest he return home, but a firm hand settled on her back and propelled her along the street.
“But you cannot enter my house, Valentine.” She looked to Honora’s house, noted the soft glow of candlelight spilling out from an upstairs window. “What about your mother? What if she sees you?”
“I think we have passed the point of worrying about my mother. Besides, she is far more astute than I.”
“And my reputation?”
Valentine smiled. “Is in utter ruins after this evening’s debacle at the Pit. We will have to see what can be done about it, but presently we have other matters that require our attention.”
Ava swallowed past the lump in her throat and cast him a sidelong glance. She wondered what she had done to deserve the friendship of such a wonderful man.
“The drawing room and your bedchamber are in a dreadful state,” Twitchett said.
Panic sprung to life in Ava’s chest.
What of her treasures hidden under the boards?
They entered the house, and Twitchett closed the door. He led them into the kitchen where Mrs Stagg and Bernice were seated on wooden chairs, sipping brandy from chipped china teacups. Tears trickled down the maid’s face.
“What happened?” Ava rushed to comfort them.
“Oh, miss, there was nothing I could do to stop him!” Mrs Stagg pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and blew her nose.
“Him? Do you speak of my brother?” Surely not. Ava had spent most of the evening with Jonathan.
“No, the brute I found rummaging around in your desk.”
Valentine stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Ava’s back. “Can you describe the fiend you caught?”
Ava expected the housekeeper to say he had copper hair, tiny spectacles and a vicious dog called Caesar. But then Mr Maguire would have had to ride like the wind considering the fact they had only recently left him at the Pit.
“He was a tall gent with black hair and thick side whiskers. Don’t ask me how he got into the house for he never made a peep.” Mrs Stagg sniffed and took another sip of brandy. “It’s only by chance I sent Bernice in to draw the curtains.”