Chapter Three
Twenty minutes later, Allison found herself in another hired hack headed back to Mayfair. Heather sat beside her in the forward-facing seat, and Joseph and the inspector sat across from them. The events of the day had exhausted her, and she was glad to be leaving the horrid scene of Polly’s death behind. Still, anger churned within her at the fact that Inspector O’Brien had made her leave.
She waited until they were nearly home before she finally broke the silence.
“Thank you for accompanying me home, Inspector. However, there is no need for you to come in. I’ll be quite fine without any more help from you.”
He met her gaze, his green eyes glinting with what she very much feared was humor. Why did he always seem to find her so terribly funny?
“You just don’t want me to speak to the earl,” he said.
She squeezed her hands at her sides, battling the urge to strike him across his handsome face. Why did he have to be so bloody good-looking? Every time she saw him, her gaze was captured by his burnished blond hair, gorgeous emerald eyes, and almost too-perfect features, but she couldn’t forget that despite his occasional kindnesses, he saw her as nothing more than a spoiled princess.
“Of course, I don’t want you to talk to Hawkesmere! Once he finds out what happened, he’ll never let me leave the house again!” She hated to be having this conversation with him, hated that it made her seem like such a child and that Joseph and Heather were here to see it, though neither of them said a word.
“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Quinn said dispassionately. “There’s no need to put yourself in such danger.”
“You do it every day,” she fired back.
“It’s my job.” His forehead creased with frustration.
“This is my job too,” Allison said passionately, willing him to understand. “If I don’t have this... then I don’t have anything.”
Heather grabbed her hand within the folds of their skirts and squeezed, earning her Allison’s undying gratitude. At least one person in this world understood her.
Quinn’s face hardened, and he gestured out the hack window at the posh residences around them. “You have nothing? Forgive me if I don’t shed a tear for a Mayfair princess when I have a dead prostitute on my hands.”
His words felt like a slap in the face. As the hack pulled to a stop outside her brother’s palatial white townhome, her eyes welled with angry tears, and she jerked on the door, trying to get it open, realizing she’d never in her life had to open a vehicle door for herself. Before she could manage it, a footman hurried over to do it for her, and the sheer ridiculousness of her existence flooded through her. How could she even argue his point? She’d been gifted all of this, and yet somehow, it still wasn’t enough.
“Lady Allison,” Quinn said urgently as Allison surged out of the hack. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for...”
She didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.
* * *
AS LADY ALLISON STORMED up the front steps of her brother’s home, Quinn was suddenly flooded with guilt. He shouldn’t have said what he did. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Quite the opposite. In fact, all he wanted was to keep her safe.
“You’re absolutely correct, Inspector.” Allison’s lady’s maid, Heather, gave him a fulminating look. “That was uncalled for. She only wants to help those women. You needn’t be so mean to her.” With a huff, the dark-haired young woman exited the hack and hurried after her mistress.
“Not well done, sir,” Joseph said, getting to his feet and pushing past him. “Not well done at all.”
Quinn fell back against the seat, thoroughly chastened. He stared up at the house for a long moment, knowing he should do exactly as he’d threatened and tell Hawkesmere what had happened.
“If I don’t have this... then I don’t have anything...”
The sorrow and anger in Allison’s words rang in his head. How could he discount how important her work was to her? He knew very little of her life. Who was he to interfere with what made her happy?
Besides, he didn’t owe Hawkesmere a damn thing.
“Keep her safe,” he shouted at Joseph, who’d just reached the door. “Try to talk her out of going back to Mercy House until we can find out who did this.”
Joseph nodded, and Quinn instructed the hack driver back toward Bethnal Green.
* * *
THE MOMENT ALLISON reached her room, she began stripping off her clothes, convinced she could still smell death on them. Heather entered a few minutes later and gently brushed her hands away, working to unfasten the dozens of tiny buttons.
“It’s not fair,” Allison muttered at last. “I’m certain once the inspector is done talking to Lucien, he’ll never let me go to Mercy House again.” Which didn’t mean she’d stop her work. She had resources of her own, and she’d find a way to get around whatever measures her brother took, but the thought of how much energy that would take exhausted her.