It wouldn’t be difficult. Joshua had a network of friends and contacts all over London. Someone had seen King and could point him in the right direction. That was how he’d found Lizzie. He hadn’t gone to see her in the new, fancy house in Mayfair, but he’d found it and kept watch over it for a few hours. It seemed like a good place. He hoped she was safe and happy there.
But King? Oh, Joshua hoped he was miserable.
An hour later, after going from street urchin to street urchin, he found King asleep on a bench in Hyde Park. The sun was just coming up and a few riders were out on Rotten Row, but otherwise, they had the place to themselves. Joshua stared down at King. His hair had fallen over his forehead, and he had a shadow of beard on his jaw. Joshua nudged him. King didn’t wake, so Joshua nudged him harder.
King blew out a breath and an expletive as he came awake. “What the holy hell? Joshua?” He sat up, his eyes bleary and red. “How did you find me?”
“I’ll always find you—you boil-brained gudgeon.”
King squinted at him. “Boil… What?”
“Stand up and fight me like a man,” Joshua said.
“Fight you?” King raked a hand through his already disordered hair. “What’s happened?”
“I’ll tell you what’s happened,” Joshua said, aiming a vicious kick at King’s shin.
“Ow!” King jumped up, stepping aside before Joshua could kick him again. “What the devil is the matter with you? Did Violet send you?”
“No.”
“No, she wouldn’t. I suppose she didn’t tell you what happened, and now you blame me.”
“Yes, I blame you!” Joshua made to kick again, but King grabbed for him, swung him around, and wrapped an arm about his shoulders.
“Kick me again, and you’ll be sorry. Now, without violence, tell me what’s wrong.”
Joshua took a breath, found the words caught in his throat, and tried again. “You made her cry,” he said, his voice much smaller than he would have liked. “You promised you’d never hurt her.”
The tight hold on Joshua’s shoulders loosened, and he would have fallen forward if King hadn’t caught him around the waist. But this time the embrace was gentle. “Joshua,” King said, his voice soft.
Joshua pulled away. “Don’t coddle me. I’m not a baby.”
King released him. “Fine. If you’re a man, then act like a man. Stop striking out at me like a child having a tantrum and listen to what I have to say.”
Joshua folded his arms. “I’m listening.”
“If Violet is crying, it’s not because of me. She sent me away. She’s the one who doesn’t want me.”
Joshua didn’t believe it. The words didn’t make sense. Still, King hadn’t ever lied to him before. “What do you mean, she doesn’t want you?”
King took a breath and lifted his gaze to the dewy grass of the park beyond. “I told her I loved her last night. It was while you were tending the bar. I told her I loved her and you and Georgie, and I wanted us to be together. She sent me away.”
“She didn’t understand,” Joshua argued, but it was a knee-jerk argument. He knew his sister, and she had understood very, very well. He hunched his shoulders. “Fine. She understood. But don’t you know any better than to tell her things like that? She doesn’t like talking about feelings. It makes her itchy.”
“Itchy?”
“That’s what Georgie and I call it. Whenever we used to talk about our mam and cry and say we missed her, Vi would scratch her head or her neck or her arms. She’d listen and she’d try to comfort us, but she was allergic to that sort of talk.”
“Well, she wasn’t scratching when I was talking to her. She was…” King’s gaze strayed to the park again. “She was quite clear that she wanted me to leave. She doesn’t want you or Georgie to become dependent on me.”
“More like she’s afraidshe’lldepend on you.” Joshua sat on the bench. “She hates to depend on anyone else.”
King sat beside him. “I’ve noticed.”
“She’s afraid if she depends on you, if she admits shelovesyou”—Joshua made a disgusted face—“then if you leave, she’ll be really hurt.”
“But I won’t leave. I don’t want to leave.”
