A Wedding In Springtime(105)

Grant pushed his face as far as he could between the bars and Genie met him, her soft lips blending with his until nothing else existed but her sweet, clean scent and the promise of her kiss. Despite everything, he was ready for more, the kind of more iron bars rendered impossible.

“I underestimated you. I’ve ruined everything.” Genie pulled back.

“No, I have been the fool. Had I had my wits about me last night, things would have been different. But, Genie, you must get out of here.”

Genie sat down on the chair. “I think I should pray.”

“Pray?”

“Ever since my brother came to me, I’ve been desperate to solve this and save him. I’ve done everything I can think of except pray. Stupid really, since God knows what I should do, especially when I don’t.”

Genie sat on the chair and bowed her head. Grant watched and waited, a growing sense of panic overtaking him. He needed to get her out somehow. Lord, I’m not one for praying, as well you know, but please get her out of here.

A scratching sound got his attention. The dim light got darker. Someone was at the boarded-up window.

“Genie!” hissed Grant.

Genie was at his side at once.

“Hide the penknife under your glove,” Grant whispered. “When he attacks, stab him. Aim for the eyes and then run away as fast as you can.”

After a few grunts, a small figure squeezed through a small crack between the boards and landed softly on the ground. The child glanced around and approached Genie, who had sat back down to pretend she was still tied to the chair.

“Milady?”

“Jem!” said Genie, forgetting to pretend to be tied and standing up to give the lad an embrace.

“Don’t trust him!” yelled Grant. “He’s probably been working for Blakely—or whatever the blazes his name is—this whole time.” He prayed for help and got an urchin instead.

“Jem, is this true?”

“I’m sorry,” said Jem in a small voice. “I didn’t want to, but the Candyman would do horrible things. He’s a mean cove.”

“I understand,” said Genie, much kinder than Grant would have been. “But now you must help us. Where is the Candyman and the other lads?”

“Gone to Hyde. Plan to fleece the duke then hush him good.”

“I do not quite understand,” said Genie.

“They plan to steal the letter from Marchford and then kill him. Is that the plan?” asked Grant.

“Aye, you’re a cunning swell.”

“Jem, you must help us get out so we can warn him,” said Genie.

Jem proudly held up a key. “That’s what I come for. Nicked it straight from his pocket. He always said I was a leery cull when learn’n the knuckle.”

“Good boy, Jem!”

Jem unlocked the cage and Grant was never happier to hug a dirty urchin. “Did right by yourself, m’lad.” And perhaps praying wasn’t such a bad idea either.

Grant took Genie into his arms and kissed her right there in the cellar in front of Jem and the rats. “I love you, Eugenia Talbot.”

Genie beamed back at him. “I love you too, William Grant.”

“There is much I wish to say, but for now, let’s be gone,” said Grant.

This proved harder than expected. There were two doors to exit the cellar, but both the interior door up a rickety flight of stairs and the exterior hatch door were padlocked from the outside.

“Can’t you go out Pitt’s picture?” asked Jem.

“The window,” explained Grant to Genie. “So named for Pitt’s window tax. And no, there is no way for me to fit. Can’t see how anyone could.”

“I’m next to nothing,” said Jem.

Genie climbed up on a crate to better see the opening between the boards. “I am too big for that I fear.”

Grant helped her down, mentally reprimanding himself for enjoying putting his hands around her waist.

“Jem, can you squeeze out and go warn the Duke of Marchford not to go to Hyde Park and to come here to help us instead?”

Jem’s eyes widened. “They’ll have watchers on the house. They’ll know if I go in. ’Sides, why would the duke believe me?”

“Tell him I said…” Grant thought for a moment for something Marchford would recognize only Grant would know. Grant motioned to Jem and the lad came close. Grant whispered something in his ear.