Читать книгу Wicked - Beth Henderson - Страница 12

Lilly stared into the looking glass in Hannah’s bedroom. In place of her conservative bonnet was an outlandish creation that seemed the epitome of a milliner’s nightmare. There were not only graceful feathers, faded silk flowers and satin ribbons in abundance, there was a pair of nesting birds complete with their clutch of unhatched, blue-speckled eggs affixed to the chapeau. Or at least Lilly thought there was. The cloud of netting that floated before her face nearly obscured her sight and made it difficult to admire the creation’s more imaginative flights of fancy.

As if the headdress wasn’t fantastic enough, Hannah had borrowed a form-engulfing, moth-eaten, fur-trimmed woolen cape and matching, equally feasted upon muff to disguise Lilly for her escorted visit to the police and ultimate escape from the Barbary Coast. Even Hannah’s assurances had not totally convinced Lilly that she would blend into her current surroundings better in such an ill-conceived ensemble.

No matter how odd her appearance, masking her identity appealed strongly to Lilly’s secret love of melodrama. However, as the mysterious Deegan Galloway’s plan called for him to simply take her by the elbow and sally forth to signal a cab as if nothing untoward had occurred, the ending to her adventure looked to be sadly flat. Not that she cared to run for her life as she had done barely an hour ago. It was just that with a disguise involved, she felt a more dashing plan would be fitting.

That was the romantic in her speaking, though. The more time that elapsed, the more her memory of the terror faded, so that now she could not help but wonder if her imagination had altered the scene, painting it in more dramatic shades than the reality of it actually deserved.

She had been so sure that she had witnessed Belle’s murder, yet she could be mistaken. She’d taken a single glance before fleeing. Had the violence, while brutal, not been of a fatal nature? With both Hannah and Deegan questioning exactly what she had seen, Lilly had begun to have doubts.

Her memory had not been aided by Deegan’s gallant rescue. Rather, it had added further color to the episode, turning her afternoon as adventurous as that of a heroine in one of Colonel Ingraham’s dime novels.

Her teachers and family had warned her that reading such low literature would have an adverse effect. She had not believed them. Now she would learn just how accurate their admonition had been. If Belle was found beaten but alive, Lilly promised in a bargainlike prayer, she would willingly renounce her weakness for Beadle and Adams’s stories.

But if Belle were really dead…

Steadfastly crushing the thought, Lilly concentrated on adjusting her top-heavy hat. Common sense told her that the beating Hannah and Deegan had suggested Belle sustained was far more likely than her murder. Lilly had read about crimes of murder, naturally, but witness the actual act? No. Impossible. People were only in the wrong place at the wrong time in the penny dreadfuls, and then they only acted recklessly when involved in such villainy because it was fiction.

Besides, she lacked every characteristic the yellow novels clearly showed were necessary traits in a heroine. She was neither of a pliable temperament, fashionably beautiful nor was she an orphan. She was a spinster past her majority, with family responsibilities. Even if it lacked excitement, doing as Deegan planned was the best course to pursue. The important thing was for her to reach the police and have them find Belle. And after that, to get home as quickly as possible.

Lilly lifted the widow’s veiling from before her face and checked the time on her lapel watch. She needed to be on her way, with or without the casual attendance of Deegan Galloway during her getaway.

“I don’t know how I can possibly thank you sufficiently for opening your home to me, Mrs. McMillan,” Lilly said, turning away from the mirror. “The tea was delicious, the cakes delightful and this…” She waved the trailing tail of whatever animal had given its life to adorn the heavy cape. “This…”

Hannah grinned. “It is frightful, isn’t it? But it is Mrs. Chandler’s most prized possession.”

“I’ll take good care that it is returned to her unharmed,” Lilly assured her.

“By which she means without incurring further bullet holes,” Deegan commented, appearing in the open doorway. One shoulder propped against the molding, he slouched there, managing to look like an upper-crust dilettante despite the rough quality of his clothing. “That poor critter has seen more than his fair share of buckshot.”

It was fortunate that her acquaintance with Deegan Galloway would be of a brief duration, for Lilly was quite sure she would never get used to the easygoing charm of his grin. He was such an attractive man, and an attractive man of the right age had never noticed her existence before. Having his smile turned her way made her feel flustered and all too aware of her many shortcomings.

It had begun to rain outside, and a slight sheen of misty dampness dusted the comforting breadth of his shoulders, and fresh, telltale marks of puddled water marked his boots. His tawny hair and luxuriant side-whiskers were dry, though, probably the result of being sheltered from the elements by the broad brimmed hat he had probably discarded upon entering the outer room.

He looked, Lilly felt, like a man without a care in the world. Like a man who doubted a load of buckshot would be loosed in their direction when they attempted to leave the Coast. Which meant that he had found Belle alive, and Lilly’s own brush with danger had been merely the result of an overactive imagination. She sat down abruptly, both relieved and a bit disappointed that her adventure was over.

“You found her,” she said softly. “Is she all right?”

Before he answered, his gaze skittered to Hannah, as if flashing a silent message to her. “I don’t know. I didn’t actually find her.”

Her hope of discovering Belle alive already weakened by the secretive exchange, Lilly clenched her hands together tightly in her lap. “You mean her…” she swallowed convulsively before adding, “…body.”

“No,” he said. “I didn’t.”

“But if you didn’t find her, Dig, that could mean Belle’s all right,” Hannah declared, offering a carrot of hope. “It could simply mean that she returned to her crib.”

As much as she wished to believe it was true, Lilly knew it was a false hope. She shook her head slightly, making the weight of her borrowed hat shift so that she had to save it from toppling off with a judicious touch of her hand. The comfort of believing she might have been wrong slipped away quickly, leaving the horror of the lone alternative.

“Belle isn’t in hiding somewhere,” she said. “That man killed her. I saw him do it. If her body isn’t there now it’s because he had her moved.” Lifting her chin, Lilly met Deegan’s eyes determinedly. “I want him caught and punished for what he’s done.”

She expected Deegan to agree with her. To leap to take her to the nearest police station so that she could tell her story, describe Belle’s murderer and thus start the wheels of justice rolling to avenge the unhappy prostitute.

“It isn’t that simple,” he said.

Lilly got to her feet. “Of course it is. Once the crime is reported, the authorities can arrest that man and—”

“And what?” Deegan demanded. “Accuse him of a crime when there is no evidence that one has been committed?”

“But—”

He held a hand up, indicating that she should hear him out before arguing. “Consider the circumstances, Miss Renfrew. We are not, as you seem to believe, in God-fearing San Francisco. We are on streets even God himself thinks twice about treading. The police in this neighborhood frequently look the other way when their neighbors break the commandments. At least they do if they want to live a long and healthy life.”

“I’m sure they do,” Lilly said. “I have had to gird myself against the brutality of this area since the first time I stepped down from my hired cab with my camera.”

“Full of crusading zeal, no doubt,” Deegan muttered under his breath, apparently so that she wouldn’t hear the comment.

But she did and as a result stiffened her backbone and climbed on her figurative soapbox. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Galloway, that the photographs I take and the likenesses I give to the women and children who sit for me bring a smidgen of cheer to their sadly wretched lives.”

“I apologize for wounding you, little wren. It’s just that I’ve rubbed shoulders with do-gooders before,” he said, “and the experience didn’t bring me a ‘smidgen of cheer.’ Perhaps I am jaded.”

“Perhaps you are, sir,” Lilly declared sharply, her chin raised unnaturally high to show him her disdain.

“And perhaps,” Deegan added, “you have another use for the photographs, such as publishing them to enlighten others to these people’s plight.”

She had considered it. Her brother, Edmund, wrote such stories for the newspaper. Reading them had given her the idea in the first place.

“Do you think it would succeed, Mr. Galloway? It isn’t only the scent of soot and sin breathed daily on these streets, in these buildings. It is hopelessness.”

“Very true, my dear,” Hannah said, crossing herself devotedly, as if completing a prayer.

A prayer she herself should be saying, for Belle in particular, Lilly thought sadly. Then she squared her shoulders. “The photographs I take have nothing to do with what happened to Belle Tauber,” she said. “That man murdered her and—”

“Perhaps he did,” Deegan agreed calmly, cutting off her diatribe. “But murder is as common as dirt in this place, Miss Renfrew. If such was Belle’s fate, let her rest in peace. We may not know the truth of what happened to her, but I think we can all agree that if she is dead, she’s in a kinder place now.”

“No!” Lilly cried vehemently. “That’s not true! She—” Lilly caught herself and stopped short. She took a calming breath. “Belle’s death is monstrous, criminal. The man who did this to her must be found, caught and punished.”

“Perhaps that is how things happen in your world,” Hannah said quietly. “But not in mine.”

Appalled at the woman’s resigned acceptance, Lilly got to her feet quickly and faced Deegan. “Surely you don’t subscribe to such a philosophy, sir.”

He shrugged elegantly, the graceful, masculine beauty of the movement so out of keeping with his rough clothing that it appeared exotic. “How can either you or I say, Miss Renfrew?” he asked. “We are only visitors to the district, not residents. Who’s to say that Hannah isn’t right?”

Lilly drew herself up. “The law, sir. The law.”

“Written law, perhaps,” Deegan agreed. “Civilized law.” He took her elbow, steering her to the window, forcing her to look out over the depressing drabness of the area. “Can you, in all honesty, tell me this is civilization?” he asked.

Lilly looked past the buildings, past the narrow alleyways, seeing instead the children, the women she had met.

“This is the jungle, Miss Renfrew. Only the strong survive, and then only if fate favors them,” Deegan continued.

Perhaps it was, but wasn’t that part of the reason she had chosen to document conditions in the Coast? To help balance the scales of justice?

“The law is for everyone, Mr. Galloway,” she said.

“Is it?” he murmured. “Or is it merely that you want Belle avenged and know yourself ill-equipped to accomplish a personal vendetta? The law wields a dandy sword of vengeance, doesn’t it?”

The accusation stung. Lilly’s cheeks burned with color. In part, what he suggested was the truth, yet wasn’t that precisely the reason the judicial system had been created? Whether it was called vengeance or justice, when a sentence was delivered, the result was the same—evil was punished.

Even stronger than her desire for vindication was the mystery of how Deegan Galloway seemed capable of reading the secrets she kept locked in her heart. If only she could read him half as well. But she couldn’t. Not on this short acquaintance. Perhaps not even in a lifetime.

Afraid Deegan could in truth read her thoughts, Lilly hastened to push them aside. “Perhaps in my heart I am a vigilante,” she admitted. “I liked Belle. I felt sorry for her. I would have helped her leave if it was in my power. But I couldn’t and she’s gone. I know that punishing her murderer won’t bring Belle back. However, he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with such a heinous crime. If I do nothing and he kills another defenseless woman, I would feel her blood upon my hands.”

Deegan’s mouth curved slightly in an ironic smile. “Yes, I suppose you would,” he agreed. “All right. Although I doubt it will accomplish much, I’ll see that you reach the police with your story.”

Lilly noticed that he hadn’t promised to escort her there himself. Despite the fact that he looked more and more out of place in these surroundings, she supposed he had good reason to be in the Coast. Somehow she doubted it was as honorable a reason as her own. Perhaps his insistence that the law held little sway in the area was based on a desire to believe that was true because he wished to avoid due process himself.

What crime could he have committed? Other than stealing a woman’s heart, that is. She felt him very capable of that particular crime.

“And after I speak with the police, sir? What happens then?”

His smile widened. “Why, then, Miss Renfrew, you will have my full attention. You see, contrary to what you might believe based on my callous distrust of local law officials, if something unforeseen happened to you, I, too, would feel that I had blood on my hands. Your blood.”

He was being theatrical again, echoing her own overly dramatic words. Yet even if the statement was nothing more than a glib twisting of her words, Lilly felt warmed at the idea, false as it might be, that he cared what became of her. “Thank you, Mr. Galloway,” she murmured. “I appreciate your gentlemanly concern.”

“Then you’re sadly mistaken, darlin’,” he said, the lilt of Ireland creeping back into his voice, “because there’s not a lick of gentleman in my entire being.”

She didn’t believe him, Deegan knew. He could tell by the way her pretty eyes glowed when she looked at him. She thought him heroic even though he’d tried to show her he had far more in common with villainy.

Well, perhaps he hadn’t tried that hard. There was something about her that appealed to his sense of adventure. He’d been in dangerous situations frequently over the years—far too frequently—but never before had he had the opportunity to come to the rescue of a damsel in distress. As a result he hadn’t thought ahead to the consequences of his actions. Now not only did he have Lilly Renfrew’s admiring gaze to deal with, he had the necessity of keeping himself and Hannah out of the pot of trouble Lilly was set on brewing.

The photograph she’d taken of Belle Tauber was safely stowed in his inner vest pocket, the damp cardboard edges of the cabinet card feeling cold despite the thickness of his rough shirt. The sensation made it impossible for him to forget such evidence. At least to him it was evidence that Lilly’s story was true. He doubted that the police—even the honest ones, of which there were damn few—would agree with him, though. But they hadn’t seen the terror in her face when she’d barreled into him, hadn’t seen the grim determination in the eyes of the man who hunted her. And because of who Deegan was and what he’d done in his checkered past, he couldn’t tell the coppers, either.

Not that it would make a difference if he did. Impressions didn’t count when it came to proving a crime had been committed.

Lilly had spirit now, but Deegan doubted anyone, man or woman, could continue to hold their head high when adversity continually knocked them flat in the muddy streets. He certainly hadn’t been able to handle it. He’d lied, stolen and run to escape such a fate himself.

Or thought he’d escaped it. Some days, in spite of his good fortune in falling in with Garrett Blackhawk and subsequently gaining his current nondemanding, well-paid employment, Deegan doubted the shadow of the Coast had ever left him. He’d been born there, his father an unknown patron of his mother’s open-for-business bed. Deegan’s knack for mimicry might let him blend in with a better strata of society, but underneath it all he was still Bridget Murphy’s bastard son.

It had been the Barbary Coast as much as his mother’s occupation that had robbed him of his childhood. At four he stole his first watch. By eight he’d been a fairly accomplished pickpocket. It was in his blood to be a liar and a thief, not a gentleman.

Despite that, he had a full social schedule that allowed him to rub shoulders with the city’s most prominent families. The goddess of fortune was indeed fickle.

Deegan checked his pocket watch. He had been foolish to give in to the temptation to tread these streets again. But if he hadn’t been there today, what would have become of the wren?

He knew what would have become of her, and the thought alone chilled his blood.

“Mr. Galloway?”

He liked the prim quality of her voice. She was miffed at him and made no effort to hide her dissatisfaction.

“Are you or are you not going to guide me to the nearest police station now?” Lilly demanded.

“I would rather not,” he said, allowing her one of his rare, truly honest moments.

“But you know that—”

“You haven’t considered the situation sufficiently, Miss Renfrew,” Deegan cautioned. “You are still a hunted woman. Where exactly do you think that b’hoy will expect you to head?”

“Oh,” she said, her flare of indignation snuffed as quickly as a candle flame. “But I need to speak with the authorities.”

“And you will one day soon,” he countered.

She stared at him quietly for the space of a heartbeat, her lovely pastel eyes looking through him. Then Lilly’s chin raised infinitesimally, an indication, he was sure, that she had decided to grab the bull by the horns. She was such an innocent. She had no idea how sharp those horns could be. Having been figuratively gored more times than he cared to recall, Deegan knew only too well the danger she was determined to flout.

And because his conscience would haunt him if he stood aside and let her, he would soon be dodging danger again himself.

Which was exactly what he had come to the Coast that day to do. Was that why he found her uncommonly attractive? Or was it something else that drew him, that had him so determined to be her champion?

Lilly stood a bit straighter, as if determination alone could turn her into an Amazon equal to whatever was to come. Perhaps it could. The flame of righteousness fueled her, lit the soft blue of her eyes, turning them as mysteriously beautiful as Australian fire opals. She was magnificent. Even if he hadn’t already resigned himself to helping her, he would now have followed her to hell and back just for the chance to know her better.

Hell was probably exactly where she’d lead him.

“Not one day, Mr. Galloway,” she said quietly. “Today. Allowing Belle’s murderer time to leave town would be an insult to her memory. To the friendship we shared.”

Without a doubt, Lilly Renfrew was becoming a more dangerous woman to know by the minute. Fueled with misguided civic zeal, she was blind to personal harm.

And that appealed to him, too. Damn, but he had perverted tastes. Or at least deadly ones. If he hung around her very long, he’d no doubt end up turning up his toes. And that very real possibility didn’t discourage him at all.

Deegan sighed in resignation before turning to Hannah. “I’m afraid carrying Miss Renfrew’s camera will be a dead giveaway.”

From the corner of his eye he noticed Lilly wilt slightly in relief. He hoped the role as her knight errant was worth his while. Hoped he could be happy with the reward of an appreciative smile. Considering the way her figure curved attractively within the drab-colored walking suit, he knew a smile wasn’t going to be nearly enough.

“Leave the contraption with me,” Hannah offered. “I’ll see that it doesn’t come to any harm, Miss Lilly.”

“And I’ll see that it is returned to you intact,” Deegan added. “Now, I believe it is time to get this ill-advised visit to the police over and done with.”

Lilly’s hands were knit tightly together, her eyes downcast, giving her a prayerful stance, but he didn’t miss the rapid beat of her pulse above her high edged collar. “Yes, of course,” she said, her voice little more than a sigh as she settled the ridiculous borrowed hat more firmly in place. At least she hadn’t taken umbrage at his designation of the trip as ill-advised. To his thinking it was more than that. It bordered on suicidal, a fact that should have had him running for cover. It would have if he had a lick of sense, but when it came to women, that was something he had never had.

When Lilly reached for the heavy satchels of photographic paraphernalia, Deegan stayed her hand. Beneath his fingers, hers quivered. As if startled at the sensation of his warm flesh covering her softer, cooler hand, she raised her eyes, which were wide and swirling with myriad emotions, to his. Such pretty eyes they were. So expressive. He wondered if she knew her soul shone in them.

Or that they reflected a stirring of awareness for him as a man.

Deegan released her hand. “Obscurity, remember, Miss Renfrew? I’ll return them along with the camera.”

Her lashes swept down—long, curling lashes a richer shade of brown than her hair. “Of course,” she murmured, and turned away, moving to take Hannah’s hands as she expressed her gratitude for her hospitality.

With the concealing veil draped once more over Lilly’s features and the slightly ragged muff covering her quaking hands, Deegan guided his now subdued charge back down the stairs to the gauntlet of streets and alleyways that lay between Hannah’s building and the nearest cab stand.

As they left the shelter of the building, a resurgence of fear stiffened Lilly’s carriage and lent wings to her heels. He kept a firm hand on her elbow, murmuring reminders to her to slow her steps and bow her shoulders. She was masquerading as Hannah’s neighbor, Mrs. Chandler, a tall but slightly stooped widow whose reduced circumstances had forced her to reside in the disreputable Coast. Deegan only hoped that his own escort would not tip the scales against them, but when their progress along the street drew no undo attention, the euphoria of success buoyed his spirits once more.

Flagging down a cab for the short ride to the station house, Deegan quickly bundled Lilly inside.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you, Mr. Galloway,” she said as she wrestled briefly with the enveloping folds of the cape and the unaccustomed weight of her fantastic chapeau.

“Your safety is all the reward needed,” he assured her smoothly, settling next to her as the cab lurched forward.

But it wouldn’t be enough. He already knew exactly what he was going to ask for. And a very pretty thank-you gift it was going to be.