Olivia Twist(83)

Tellson’s was right around the corner, which would explain why Monks had been seen in the area. Satisfied that Critch was telling the truth, Olivia gave him a hard pat on the cheek. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to give Dodger your regards.” Then, she slammed her fist into his gut. Air whooshed out of his lungs as he doubled over, and Olivia smashed her knee into his nose with a crack, dropping him to the ground. “That’s for hurting Brit, you bloody blighter.”

Olivia gave the signal and they all sprinted for the street.

The following afternoon, Olivia’s fingers drummed against her thigh in time with a troubadour whose steps triggered a bang on his drum as he tooted on a trumpet and strummed a tiny harp strapped to his side. She watched Archie fall in behind him as he rounded a corner. The one-man musician’s pockets were prime for picking.

It was after four o’clock, the sun had sunk behind the buildings, creating long shadows, and Monks had yet to make an appearance.

Not for the first time, Olivia wished for the comfort and security of having Brom by her side, but she couldn’t risk Monks recognizing the dog. Clearly, he’d been watching her activity for weeks. With that in mind, she’d borrowed a suit of her uncle’s clothes and disguised herself as a gentleman of leisure. She’d only had to make slight alterations to the suit, since he’d become so thin. But the shoes were a different matter. Her feet were sweating something awful in the layers of hose and socks she’d donned in order to keep his shoes from slipping from her heels. As a final touch, she’d used her kohl pencil to thicken her eyebrows and enhance her fake beard and mustache.

Giving her paper a flick, Olivia folded it and tucked it under her arm as she stood. She strolled with wide, confident steps and shoulders back down the aisle of vendors and paused at a bakery cart, reminding herself to peruse the selections slowly. Toffs had all the time in the world.

But hers was running out. Jack would hang in the morning. The thought fired into her soul like a cannon blast.

With every blink of her eyes, memories flashed: that first night, grown-up and so handsome she couldn’t help but stare; his hands caressing her face as he kissed her until she didn’t know her own name; the earnest promise in his gaze as he swore he’d do anything to help her; the boy with the ragged top hat and too big coat; the warrior who’d protected her with only an umbrella and his fists. This man reveled in the true, unguarded person she’d never been with anyone else. She loved him beyond reason. And deep in her soul, she knew he felt the same.

As she looked over the loaves and pastries, fear boiled inside of her. A stark terror that told her they would never find Monks in time. That pictured Jack, back straight, chin up, walking to the gallows. A noose tightening around his neck, until her own heart exploded inside her chest.

Heat built in her head until she had to hide behind the baker’s canopy to press her fingers against her eyes. Jack burned so bright and beautiful, no one could hope to own him. But . . . If I could have just one more chance, I’ll make sure he never doubts how much he is loved.

“The bank’ll close up in less than an hour. What if he don’t show?” Brit’s words jolted her out of her morose thoughts. Time to put on her mask. She swallowed the madness boiling inside of her and selected a sack of day-old sticky buns, then moved to the next stall, positioning herself so she could see the bank across the street. She handed Brit the sack of bread and answered with a confidence she didn’t feel, “He’ll show.” He has to.

Just then, there was a break in the traffic, and Olivia spotted a tall man with a blond ponytail entering the bank. “That’s him.”

Thank you, God.

Squaring her shoulders, she strode across the street and darted through a group of young women selling flowers, narrowly remembering to tip her hat.

With a deep breath, she entered the bank. The interior was bright, every surface polished and sterile. Monks stood at the counter with his back to her. She couldn’t hear what he said, but he pulled a key from his pocket as the clerk plunked a heavy-looking box in front of him. She strode forward and stood behind him as if waiting for her turn. She’d never entered a bank in her life, so she had no sense of what the procedure might be, but she had to get a look inside that box.

Monks unlocked the safe and took a wad of pound notes and a small sack of coins from his pocket. Olivia stepped closer, trying to see over his shoulder. But he was taller than she by half a head and his broad back blocked her view.

“May I help you with something, sir?”

Olivia only just kept herself from starting as the man behind the counter directed his question toward her. She stepped back and jerked her eyes to the slate board that listed the bank’s rates and services. “One moment, please,” she grumbled with an off-putting frown.

After a few seconds had passed, she clasped her shaking hands behind her back and sidled up to the counter right next to Monks. “I need information on acquiring a safe box.”

“What size, sir?”

Olivia glanced back at the rate chart, but in her jittery state the words and numbers read like gibberish. Under the guise of assessing its size, she pointed her chin toward the box Monks sifted through and allowed her gaze to linger.

Monks shot a glare at the clerk. “Is there somewhere more private I might go?”

There!

Monks snapped the box closed, but not before Olivia spied a distinctive glitter. Shoved into the far corner of the safe, as if they were of no consequence, rested a very familiar pair of amethyst-and-diamond earbobs.