Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(64)

“Come with me,” he said, his soft voice undercutting the noise of the crowd. “I won’t hurt you.”

Stunned that he had dared to touch her, Sophia resisted the gentle urging, the blood draining from her face. She tugged at her imprisoned wrist. “Let go,” she said tightly. “If anything happens to me, Sir Ross will kill you.”

He drew closer, his lips at her ear. “Would you like to know what happened to John Sydney?”

She jerked backward, nearly knocking her head against the wall. “What do you know about my brother?”

A corner of his mouth lifted in the hint of a mocking smile. “Come.”

The sight of Nick Gentry plucking a pretty woman from the onlookers entertained them tremendously. Laughing and clapping, they surged around the carriage as Gentry pulled Sophia inside. Frightened yet intensely curious, she half sat, half fell against the leather-upholstered cushions. The door was closed, and the vehicle lurched as the team of six moved forward. The carriage rounded the street corner and gained momentum, accelerating to a reckless hurdle through the streets.

“Where are we going?” Sophia asked tensely. “And why did you mention my brother’s name? And why did you give me the gown and the necklace, and—”

Gentry held up his hands in a gesture of mock self-defense. “Wait. I’ll explain. Just… wait.”

He reached for a polished wood compartment beside the door and withdrew a glass and a small decanter of amber liquid. Either the jouncing of the carriage made it difficult for him to pour, or his hands were strangely unsteady, for he seemed unable to accomplish the task. Giving up with a curse, he lifted the spirits to his mouth and drank straight from the decanter.

Carefully he replaced the articles in the compartment and settled his large hands on his knees. “We’re going to my home on West Street. Near Fleet Ditch.”

Sophia could not prevent a quiver of distaste. The location was one of the most foul and dangerous in London, home to robbers and fugitives, conveniently located near the prisons of Newgate, Ludgate, and the Fleet. The huge sewer named Fleet Ditch spread its stench extravagantly through the twisted lanes and alleys that surrounded it.

“You’ll be safe with me,” Gentry said shortly. “All I want is to talk with you in privacy.”

“Why me?” she demanded. “What have I done to attract your attention? We’ve never met, and I am certain that we have no acquaintances in common.”

“You’ll understand after I explain a few things.”

Huddling in the corner of the seat, Sophia sent him a cold glare. “Explain, then. And afterward you will return me safely to Bow Street.”

Gentry’s white teeth gleamed as he appeared both amused and admiring of her fearlessness. “Agreed,” he said quietly. “Very well. What I wish to talk about are the last days of John Sydney.”

“You knew my brother?” Sophia asked warily.

He nodded. “I was on the prison hulk where he died.”

“Why should I believe that?”

“What reason would I have to lie about it?” Something in his eyes compelled her to accept his claim. The words plucked painfully at the inner wound that John’s death had left. No one had ever told her what her beloved younger brother had suffered on the prison hulk, or how he had died. She had always longed to know, but now that the information seemed to be forthcoming, she was filled with dread.

“Go on,” she said hoarsely.

Gentry spoke slowly, allowing her time to digest the information. “We were on the Scarborough, anchored on the Thames. Six hundred convicts were housed below the decks, some in iron cells, some shackled to iron shafts embedded in oak planks. Most of us were fitted with a ball and chain around one leg. Thieves, murderers, pickpockets—no matter how great or small the crime, we were all subjected to the same treatment. The younger boys, such as John and myself, got the worst of it.”

“In what way?” Sophia brought herself to ask.

“We were chained beside men who had been deprived of…” He paused, apparently searching for a proper word that she would understand. “Men who hadn’t ‘known’ a woman in a long time. Do you understand what I mean?”

She nodded cautiously.

“When a man is brought to that state, he is willing to do things that he would not ordinarily do. Such as attack more vulnerable creatures than he… and subject them to…” He paused, his mouth twisting. His gaze became very distant, as if he were looking through a window at some unpleasant sight. He seemed removed from the memories, detached and somewhat contemplative. “Unspeakable things,” he murmured.

Sophia was silent with anguished horror, while one part of her mind summoned the question… why would Nick Gentry confess something so private and agonizing to a woman he didn’t know?

He continued, his voice low and matter-of-fact.

“The prisoners were starved, filthy, choking on the foul air, riddled with prison fever. They kept us all together—the living, the dying, the dead. Every morning the bodies of those who hadn’t survived the night were taken to the top deck, carried ashore, and buried.”

“Tell me about my brother,” Sophia said, fighting to keep her voice from trembling.

Gentry’s gaze met hers, and she was struck by how vibrant and hopelessly blue his eyes were. “John became friends with a boy who was nearly his own age. They tried to protect each other, helped each other when possible, and talked of the day when they would be released. Although it was selfish, John dreaded the day that the boy would be released. That day was not long in coming. And when his friend was set free, John knew he would be alone again.”