Page 30 of When We Touch

Another shot exploded. Maggie screamed.

The bald man in front of her fell to the floor.

She spun around. The Irishman was at the top of the stairs, behind her and Mireau, a smoking gun in his hand. “This way!” he told them, as they heard the police whistles. “This way, quickly!”

She rushed back up the stairs, dragging Mireau in her wake.

“Back stairs!” the Irishman said.

She realized only then that he had lost his accent, and yet, it didn’t seem to register in her mind that it meant . . . something. Between them all, they had managed to draw the police.

And now, it was really time to disappear.

“Come on! Now!”

They ran. As they flew down the back steps, they heard the thunder of boots from the front. They followed the bearded Richard Riley down the back stairs, bursting out into a fetid alley. A single black horse was tethered there.

“Let’s go!” Riley commanded.

“Three of us on one horse? We won’t get far!” Maggie said.

“Get up!”

He didn’t wait to be obeyed. Maggie was thrown up on the animal with very little ceremony and grace; her skirts went wide, and her linens were clearly visible.

No time to worry about such things.

“Now you, quickly,” the Irishman said to Mireau.

Her friend was all but tossed up behind her, while the Irishman continued giving commands.

“Get to Aldgate, the station. I’ll meet you there!”

He slapped the horse on the rump, and the animal burst into action.

They galloped down the street, into the darkness and mist, into what seemed to be the very bowels of hell itself.

Chapter 5

“What on earth?” Lord Justin Graham cried as he and his party were nearly run down by a massive stallion being ridden by what appeared to be one giant blob of black.

“Egad!” swore Percy Ainsworth, nearly thrown from his feet.

But then, they had been staggering along the street already.

Their party of rather ribald nobility and gentry was rather the worse for wear.

They had begun drinking at a less than noble establishment, one hovering on the edges between notoriety and total abandonment. The pub keeper, a Luther Green, had learned in his less than illustrious career that often, the more straitlaced and proper a man appeared to be—or felt that he must be—the more in need of real entertainment.

And so Luther had learned the one element most important to any business—supply and demand.

The demand was out there, and he knew how to find the right supply.

It had only taken the acquaintance of one really important fellow, and he had managed that through Lord Percy Ainsworth.

Justin had come into play with the various forms of entertainment provided by Luther Green through Ainsworth—just as Prince Eddy, Duke of Clarence, eldest son of the Prince of Wales, heir apparent to the Crown of Great Britain.

Eddy had a fascination with the East End. He was very young, and sadly, not very bright. Justin actually liked him, and felt sorry for him. He was good to those around him through a natural generosity. Most of those around him, however, made jokes about him when he was not among them. He hadn’t been educated for any particular goal in life. That he would one day be king had seemed enough.