Page 17 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

She spent the evening thinking about the matter; she talked it over with Lisette the next day. All the while Noelle worked, she thought about it. Indeed, she could not seem to occupy her brain with anything else.

As they walked home after the shop closed, Noelle was still sunk in thought. Gil roamed forward and back to her. Noelle no longer worried about someone snatching him away. She was well aware that Thorne’s man followed them home from the store every evening, which alleviated the danger of walking through the disreputable area.

As they made their way deeper into Seven Dials, a drunk staggered out of a tavern and stumbled over Gil, then cursed the boy roundly for getting in his way. Noelle grabbed Gil’s hand and went around the man, who continued to hurl imprecations at them. He lurched forward, and though he was too drunk to accomplish anything other than falling to his knees, Noelle cast a glance behind her to reassure herself that Thorne’s man was there. Less than a block behind them, their follower gave himself away by immediately whipping around and developing a sudden interest in the wall beside him. It was a different man than usual, and he wasn’t as good at his task as the short man who usually trailed them.

For a few moments after that unsettling encounter, Gil was quieter, staying close to her side, but he soon began to chatter about the book Thorne had given him. Noelle had read one of the stories to him last night, and he was looking forward to another one this evening. “Mr. Thorne is nice,” Gil said, pulling free from her hand to jump over a puddle. “He said I could call him Uncle Carlisle. He said there are horses on my ’state. Is that true? What’s a ’state?”

“Estate,” Noelle corrected. “It’s a...a piece of land. I imagine there are horses.”

“I’d like to have a horse.” Gil galloped in place.

Noelle’s heart contracted inside her chest as a sudden realization hit her: She was terrified that Gil would be weaned away from her, pulled bit by bit into the world of Thorne and the countess, the world his father had grown up in. There would be a governess, a tutor, then an education at Eton and Oxford. He would view Noelle more and more from a distance, becoming more like them and less like her until he was separated from her by his own choosing. What if Gil came to view his lowborn mother as Thorne did, an embarrassment and a scandal?

There was a wrench of pain at what might lie before her, and at the same time she felt small and shamed by the thought that she was holding back her son from the life he deserved, the world in which he belonged, simply because she did not belong there, too.

Gil frowned at her. “Maman? What is it?” He came back to her. “Are you sick?”

“No.” Just sick at heart. Noelle forced a smile. “I was...thinking we might go see Lady Drewsbury tomorrow.”

“Grandmama?”

“Yes. Grandmama.” She braced herself internally. “Perhaps...perhaps we might stay with her for a while.”

He let out a hoot and bounded away again. Through the shimmer of tears, Noelle watched him jump about. There was the sound of running footsteps, and Noelle half turned to see Thorne’s man running toward Gil. Alarm shot through her. What had the man seen? She instinctively moved toward her son.

The man ran past her, roughly shoving her aside. She staggered and fell as the man wrapped one long arm around Gil’s waist, lifting the boy up, and charged off down the street, Gil tucked under his arm. Noelle shrieked, rage and fury shooting her forward. Thorne’s man wasn’t rescuing Gil—he was kidnapping him!

“Stop! Let go of him!” She ran after them. Gil was kicking and screaming, which slowed the man down a little, and Noelle ran with desperation spurring her. Even so, the kidnapper was too strong, too fast, and she would never have caught him if a dog hadn’t charged out into the street, lured by the shrieks and excitement. Thorne’s man stumbled over the animal and fell to the ground.

He lost his tight grip on Gil, and Gil, bless him, came up twisting and kicking. The man kicked at the dog, and it let out a pained yelp as it skidded away. But the animal jumped up with a snarl and returned to the fray. He leaped at the kidnapper, grabbing his arm between his teeth, and Gil was knocked free, rolling across the cobblestones. The man struggled to get to his feet, still grappling with the dog, but before he could stand, a man with a crutch, presumably the dog’s owner, slammed his crutch into the fellow, cursing.

Noelle reached Gil and pulled him up. Casting a glance back at the rapidly developing melee, she grabbed her son’s hand and raced away.

Thorne had lied to her! Bitter bile rose in her throat. Everything yesterday had been a lie. All his words meant nothing. He had sought only to lure her into relaxing her guard so that he could send his man after Gil.

Every curse she knew ran through her mind. How could she have been so naive as to think she might trust him, to believe that he would keep his word? She should have known better. She had known better. She had gone against her instincts, let herself be seduced by the thought of peace and safety.

Noelle glanced back over her shoulder. No one was pursuing them. She slowed to a walk. She was panting, and beside her, Gil was limping. She stopped and knelt to examine him. His cheek was scratched, and his right hand and leg were scraped, but nothing seemed to be broken. She brushed the dirt from him and rose to her feet.

There wasn’t time to tend to his scrapes and bruises. They had to hurry. They had lost the man for the moment, but Carlisle Thorne knew where she lived. The kidnapper didn’t need to follow her; he could go straight to her house.

“Come, Gil.” She took his hand. “I know you’re tired, but we must hurry.”

“Who was that man? Why—why did he grab me?” Gil’s voice trembled, and that made her almost choke with fury. For an instant, Noelle wished that Carlisle Thorne were here, so that she could fly at him, hitting, kicking, and clawing, for hurting her son.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Technically, that was true; she didn’t know the man’s name. And she must not set Gil against his grandmother and Mr. Thorne, the only people in the world he had besides her. “But there’s no time for talking. We have to get home and pack.” It was a risk to go there; Thorne could have also sent a man to their house. But she must retrieve her small hoard of money or she had no chance.

“Are we going to Grandmama’s?” His voice lightened.

“No, pet. Not today.”

“Then where are we going?” Once more, tears hovered in his voice.

“I don’t know that either. All I know is that we must run away.”

Again.

CHAPTER FIVE