She grabbed another man and repeated her question. He shook his head and shook her off. Behind her, she heard King asking people too. No one had seen Joshua. Where was he? Had Ferryman taken him?
That wasn’t possible. Ferryman was being led away by the Bow Street Runners.
Had Joshua gone back into the tavern? She glanced at the building, which was now completely engulfed in flames. Why would he go back? Fear and panic beat at her chest like the wings of a hawk. She had to find him. She was running out of time.
A hand grabbed her shoulder, and she shrugged it off and turned to see a boy about Joshua’s age. “Are ye looking for Joshua?” he asked.
Violet grabbed the boy’s thin shoulders. “Yes. Have you seen him?”
The boy nodded and pointed to the tavern.
“Are you sure?” It was King’s voice, and he was right beside her.
“I saw ’im run back in,” the boy said.
“Oh my God.” Violet felt dizzy and grasped at King’s arm to keep her balance. “I have to go in after him. I have to get him out.”
“No.” King took her arm and pulled her out of the crowd. “You’re staying right here.”
“He’s my brother.” She struggled to get out of King’s hold. “I have to help him.”
“I’ll help him.” That surprised her, and she ceased struggling. He released her and pulled off his coat. “But if I go in there, I need to know you are right here. Safe.”
She nodded, too scared and shocked to find words.
“Good.” He draped the coat over his head. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Stay right here.” He started away, but Violet grabbed him back. She took his face in both hands and kissed him hard and fast.
“Come back,” she said. “You still owe me two pounds—”
“And fifteen shillings.” He gave her the ghost of a smile. “I know.”
And then he was gone, striding through the crowds of people, coat over his head. Even this far away, in the shadows where only the glow of the fire reached her, she could feel the heat of it burning her face and the smoke making her throat scratchy. How could Joshua be alive in there? How could King survive?
Violet clenched her hands and forced the tears back. She couldn’t lose Joshua. She was not one for prayer. God hadn’t answered her in the past—or if He had, those answers seemed to indicate she was not His favorite person.
But she prayed now. She clasped her hands together and prayed as hard as she could.
Because not only couldn’t she bear to lose Joshua, she couldn’t lose King either.
Chapter Twenty
King stumbled intothe Black Bear, coughing and blinking the tears from his eyes. They were watering at the smoke, and his throat threatened to close. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, struggled to move forward against the backlash of the heat.
This was why he hadn’t ever wanted to fall in love. It made men do stupid things.
“Joshua!”
King doubted his voice could be heard over the roar of the fire. Where could the boy be?
He stumbled through the public room, seeing no one.
Why was it only now—when he was about to die—that he could admit to himself he was in love with Violet Baker? He’d been in love with her since the first time she demanded he pay her the ridiculous sum of seven pounds, fifteen shillings. It had been the worst day of his life, and she swept in and made it even more terrible.
And more wonderful.
But he didn’t only love Violet. He loved Georgie and Joshua, though if King ever found the boy, he would kill the lad for this. Running back into a burning building. For what?
King stilled.
