Free My Favorite Thief by Karyn Monk Page B

ye.”
    â€œI don’t have any evening slippers,” Charlotte added. Why couldn’t they just see that she couldn’t go? “The ones I wore last night were ruined in the rain, and I haven’t any others.”
    â€œBut ye’ve time to buy new ones,” Annie pointed out, excited by the prospect of Charlotte attending an actual ball. “The shop windows is fully of lovely shoes—ye could get somethin’ really prime—with bows on ’em an’ such.”
    â€œAnnie is right,” Simon agreed. “And don’t worry about the cost—you know Haydon and Genevieve are very happy to pay for your personal effects.”
    â€œWhy don’t you get dressed, and then we’ll get Oliver to drive us over to Bond Street and we’ll buy you some shoes. Then we’ll go back to the house and you can try on a few gowns, to see which one you like best.”
    â€œI can’t go, Annabelle.” Charlotte’s voice was small as she quietly admitted, “I don’t want all those people staring at me.”
    â€œWhat’s this?” demanded Oliver, frowning. “Is this the wee lass who faced the Dark Shadow just last night, an’ brought him down in front of a mob?”
    â€œThe lass who helped him walk when he was all weak an’ bleedin’, an’ near dragged him up the stairs?” Doreen added.
    â€œThe lass who faced both a police inspector and a constable as cool as ye please, without givin’ either of them a hint o’ who was lyin’ in bed just above their heads?” finished Eunice.
    Oliver reached out and squeezed her hand. “Seems to me if ye’re strong enough for that, then ye’re strong enough to blather with a few rich nobs at a party.”
    â€œYou don’t have to stay long, Charlotte,” Jamie assured her. “Just tell us when you want to leave and we’ll take you home. I promise.”
    â€œThen you can tell me an’ Ruby an’ Violet all about it,” said Annie eagerly. “I’m sure it’ll be prime.”
    Charlotte was sure it wouldn’t be prime at all—at least not for her. But there was no denying that it would be a good opportunity for her to try to elicit donations.
    â€œVery well,” she said, fighting the dread tightening her chest. “I’ll go.”
    Â 
    H ARRISON BURIED HIS FACE INTO THE CARPET AND groaned.
    A trickle of sunlight had slipped through the crack between the heavy velvet draperies and was spilling onto his face. He squeezed his eyes tight and shifted away from it, his mind too clouded to judge if he was ready to tolerate it.
Slowly,
he reminded himself, inhaling a shallow, steadying breath. He waited a moment, trying to assess the level of pain in his head. He felt weary and his brain was foggy, but experience had taught him that was probably just the aftereffect of the laudanum. No more headache, he decided. Relieved, he rolled onto his side.
    And swore fiercely at the explosion of pain in his shoulder.
    He eased himself up off his bedroom floor, dazed and confused. The moment he saw the worn fabric of the cheaply tailored coat he was wearing, his fragmented memory began to fall into place. He shrugged out of the garment and opened the shirt he wore beneath, then stared in bewilderment at the swath of bloody bandages wrapped around his shoulder. A milky image of two elderly Scottish women came to his mind, dismissing it as only a flesh wound. There had been others there, too, he realized, struggling to remember. A few pretty young girls with rough speech. An old man. A young boy.
    And a strangely attractive young woman who had done her best to protect him after she stumbled upon him in Lady Chadwick’s chamber.
    â€œHarry? Are you up yet?”
    Harrison hastily closed his shirt and threw on the coat again, covering his injury. “Come in, Tony.”
    The door opened and a lean, golden-haired young man