Someone to Watch Over Me (Bow Street Runners #1)(75)

She managed a smile as she saw that he was gradually returning to his old self. "Well, you weren't late," she said. "You arrived in time to save me. Why worry about what might have happened?"

"Because I..." Grant stopped and scowled. "Because it's not every day that a man discovers that one small, fragile, accident-prone woman is the center of his very existence." "Accident-prone?" she repeated with a touch of feigned indignation, while her heart gave a joyful lurch at the rest of his words.

Sir Ross's errand boy, Ernest, emerged from the building to take the horse and lead him to the stable in back. To Victoria's surprise, Grant did not take her to the office entrance in the tiny southfacing yard, but directly into the house. The main building was connected to offices in back, which in turn led to the court where inquiries were conducted and cases were heard.

"Who are all these people?" Victoria asked, instinctively pressing closer to Grant as she stared at the multitude crammed into every conceivable corner of the building.

"Informants, criminals, potential jurors, lawyers...Take your pick."

"Is it always this busy?"

"This is nothing. I've seen the place when the walls are straining at the seams." Looking over the crowd, Grant nodded to a plump silver-haired housekeeper who was attempting to direct the flow of human traffic to the appropriate rooms. Catching his gaze, she hurried over to him. She stopped short, her mouth forming a round O of dismay. "Dear, me," she murmured, her gaze traveling from his wet, filthy, disheveled form to Victoria's. "The two of you are a sight, Mr. Morgan."

Grant's mouth curved in a faint smile, but it was clear he was in no mood for conversation. "I need to see Cannon now," he said curtly. "We only have a few minutes. Miss Duvall...that is, Miss Devane...has been through an ordeal and requires rest."

"Yes, of course." The housekeeper regarded Victoria with kindly concern. "Come this way at once, please." She urged them through the bustling crowd and brought them to Sir Ross's office, a small room with rectangular windows facing the street. The office was furnished with oak pieces, ponderous bookshelves, and a library terrestrial globe.

Sir Ross, who was talking with two men who appeared to be clerks or assistants of some kind, stopped in midsentence as Grant brought Victoria into the room. "Morgan," he said, his gray eyes flashing as he stared at the two of them. "Where is Keyes?"

"He'll be brought here soon," Grant said flatly.

Somehow, Cannon seemed to understand exactly what had happened just by reading Grant's face. He closed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped a bit. He rubbed his temples with a thumb and forefinger, as if a tremendous headache had suddenly descended. "Mrs. Dobson," he said to the housekeeper, "bring hot drinks and blankets."

"Yes, sir." She disappeared at once.

Efficiently Cannon ushered the other two men out of the room and closed the door firmly. The noise and commotion outside the office was muted but still audible. Turning to Grant and Victoria, Cannon gestured for them to have a seat.

Victoria shivered slightly, grateful for the protective arm Grant slid behind her back as she huddled in the oak chair. Her clothes were wet and clammy, and she was uncomfortably aware of the filth that clung to her premise and hair. She had never wanted a bath as badly as she did right now. She longed to be clean and dry and to find a warm bed to sleep in.

"This won't take long," Grant murmured, seeing her weariness.

Cannon heard the quiet comment. "No indeed," he said, drawing up a chair in front of Victoria's. He startled her by taking her hand in his large, cool one and staring at her intently. Her wide gaze flew to his serious gray eyes. "Miss..." he began, and paused.

"Devane," she supplied with a tremulous smile.

"Devane," he repeated softly. "You must feel like you've gone to sea in a sieve."

Despite her exhaustion, Victoria laughed suddenly at the description. "Something like that."

"That fact that this ordeal was caused by one of my Runners grieves me more than I can say. I can offer no sufficient redress for what you've suffered...but I give you my word that if I can ever be of service to you, I will use every means at my disposal. You have only to ask."

"Thank you," Victoria replied softly, finding it a bit unnerving to have one of London's most powerful men offer her an apology.

Seeming satisfied, Cannon released her hand and waited until Mrs. Dobson had brought the blankets. When Victoria was snugly wrapped in a layer of wool and there was a steaming mug of tea clasped in her icy fingers, the magistrate's implacable gaze returned to her. "Miss Devane...please tell me as best you can what happened this evening."

Occasionally fumbling for words, Victoria described the events that had passed since Grant had left her earlier in the day. Now and then Grant interceded, filling in the necessary explanations. The only interruption came when the office door reverberated from a curious scraping motion. Victoria paused and looked around questioningly at the odd noise.

Rolling his eyes, Cannon rose and opened the door. Immediately a large striped cat with no tail sauntered inside the office and surveyed the visitors with a speculative gaze. "Chopper," Cannon said in a warning tone that would have caused any other creature to slink into the nearest corner.