“You will be safe here,” the redhead told them in heavily accented English. “This was Claudette’s room, but she left us recently so it is empty.”
Lucia kept her eyes downcast, wondering if Claudette had chosen the room’s decor, or if the interior was furnished the same throughout.
“Lucia.”
She glanced up at Alex and realized he’d been speaking to her. He knelt before her and took her face in his hands, turning her head toward the light from the candles on the bedside table.
“How are you feeling?” He sounded concerned, and she saw the worry in his gray eyes.
“Tired,” she whispered. Now that she was sitting down, the weight of the past hours pressed down on her. “I feel like all of this is a dream.”
He nodded, then rubbed his thumbs along her cheek. She closed her eyes, and he took her hand again, rising to sit next to her. Lucia glanced up, then right back down. The redhead was lounging on the bed now, and the woman was practically falling out of her dress. Lucia peeked at Alex to gauge his reaction, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Alex,” the redhead said when she had his attention. “What is the trouble this time? I saw the militia pass by. Are they looking for you?”
She took a puff from her cigar and downed the auburn liquid in her glass. Lucia blinked. She’d never seen a woman smoke before, and ladies never drank anything stronger than ratafia.
“They’re looking for us, but Freddie’s thrown them off our scent. He’ll lead them in the wrong direction, then double back. We hated to come here—”
“No, no.” The woman waved her cigar. “You are always welcome here. You will be safe. And who is this dear, shocked creature you have brought?” She gestured at Lucia with the end of her glowing cigar. “She looks as if she’s frightened to death.”
Lucia straightened, determined to appear as worldly as this woman.
“This is Lucia, Ethan’s wife’s sister.”
The woman nodded to her.
“I need to warn you that De´charne´ knows who I am,” Alex went on. “He took me in London. Lucia was with me and was taken as well.”
“Little pissant,” the woman scoffed. “His prick is as small as his brain. He won’t find you here.” She sat up and sauntered to the chaise. She stared down at Lucia, and Lucia stared right back, focusing on the woman’s crimson lips.
“Oh, she is very pretty,” the redhead said. Lucia tensed, and Alex squeezed her hand. She wasn’t sure if it was meant as a warning or a gesture of reassurance.
“And your name is Lucia. That’s lovely. Where—”
“Do you know you’re falling out of your dress?” Lucia blurted, and immediately felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She’d hardly known what she was going to say until she’d said it. Beside her, Alex tried to suppress a grin.
“So are you.” The woman reached out, delicately touching her collarbone. Lucia looked down and was shocked to see huge red slashes across the pale skin. With a gasp, she noticed her dress was torn and fully half her chemise was visible. She pulled the material closed with fumbling fingers.
For a moment, she had no idea where the scratches had come from. She ran her finger over the scratch marks, and the memories flooded back to her.
The men at the docks. Patch. Raspy. She shuddered.
The woman squeezed her again. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”
Lucia glanced from her to Alex. “I know. I was always safe.”
Alex’s eyes darkened at her words, and she felt a stab of fear. She’d been scared during the attack, but that fear had been nothing compared to the terror that paralyzed her when she thought Alex had been shot. The terror of losing him was unbearable.
“How do you feel now?” Alex asked.
“Better.” Wonderful, she thought, now that he was safe.
“Well, surely you would feel better after something to eat and a good night’s sleep,” the woman said. “What do you say?”
“Oh, that would be heaven,” Lucia said, turning from Alex and smiling into the woman’s warm brown eyes.
“That’s the least I can do. I’ll send a girl with clean clothes. Don’t expect too much, but I’ll see what I can find.”
