Bedford Street Brigade 02 - Love Unbidden (18 page)

Jack reached out and gathered her in his arms. He held her close and let her rest her cheek against his chest.

“Just because I remember who I am doesn’t mean we have to say goodbye.”

Betsy lifted her head and looked up at him. Her hand rose and she tenderly placed her palm against his cheek. “We’re from two different worlds, Har…” She hesitated, then used his real name. “Jack. You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you.”

“Are you worried about Cora?”

Betsy got to her feet and slowly walked across the room. She stared into the lifeless fireplace. “It’s not just Cora.” She turned. “You have to be able to walk away from here a free man. You can’t return to your old life feeling an obligation to anyone you met when you didn’t know who you were. It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to me.”

“But what if when I return home, there’s no one waiting for me.”

Betsy smiled. “I can’t believe that. There has to be someone waiting for you.”

Jack took several steps toward her. “You think I’m that great a catch, Miss Thomas?”

Jack followed his statement with a teasing glint, then placed his hands on her upper arms and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

He intended to lighten the mood between them, but Betsy didn’t follow his lead. Her expression remained serious. Her eyes filled with despair.

“Yes, Mr. Conway. I think you’re that great a catch. I can’t imagine that you don’t have a wife worried sick over you.” She slipped out of his grasp. “I need to help Mrs. Beasley prepare for our guests.”

She turned, but he couldn’t let her leave. “Our discussion isn’t finished, Betsy. I refuse to let it be.”

The corners of Betsy’s mouth lifted in an effort to put a smile on her face. But she failed. Without a word to give him hope, she turned.

“You’ll be here when they come, won’t you?” he said.

She turned back. “Do you want me to?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. He was suddenly afraid of meeting the men he’d sent Willie to get. What if they weren’t as close as he thought they were? What if they weren’t as anxious to see him as he was to see them?”

“Yes. I need you to be with me.”

She gave one sharp nod. “I’ll be here. You won’t be alone.”

Jack watched her walk away and felt an overwhelming sense of loss. The idea of not having Betsy at his side terrified him. The thought of going through tomorrow and the next day and the next without her to talk to, to hold, to kiss…to love, didn’t just frighten him, it petrified him. Without her, he knew what true loneliness was. Not knowing who he was, or where he belonged wasn’t as unsettling as facing a future without Betsy in it. Having her in his life gave his existence purpose.

She might be worried there was another woman in his life, but he knew there wasn’t. He’d know if he’d ever felt about anyone like he felt about her.

He knew he hadn’t.

. . .

Jack stood at the window and watched the five men dismount from two carriages. He’d hoped that when he saw them, his memory would automatically return and he’d know which face to put with which name. But he didn’t.

Betsy’s hand reached for his and she nestled her palm in his as she’d done so often when he first regained consciousness and didn’t know who he was. “Do you recognize them?”

Jack shook his head.

“Give yourself time. It won’t come all at once.”

The knock on the front door came before he was ready. He breathed in a shaky breath.

Betsy gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze and left him to answer it.

“I brung ’em,” Willie announced, leading the way into the room.

“Jack!” the five men greeted as they crowded toward him.

Jack took a defensive step back.

His reaction wasn’t what they anticipated. The man standing in the middle of the line of strangers held up his hand. The four men flanking him stopped.

For several moments Jack stared at them, struggling for any hint as to who each man was. Betsy came to his rescue, as she had so often
before.

She turned to Willie. “Willie, why don’t you go the kitchen? Mrs. Beasley has a plate of gingerbread cookies still warm from the oven.”

Willie took off before the words were barely out of her mouth. When he was gone, Betsy turned back to Jack’s friends. “Gentlemen, please. Won’t you come in?”

The five men entered cautiously.

When they were closer, Jack let his gaze move from one man to the next. His focus rested on the man who’d given the order for the men to move more slowly. He was obviously the leader.

“Mack?” Jack questioned.

“Are you all right?” Mack asked.

There was concern in his voice. Genuine concern that Jack recognized and that touched him. “I’m fine now. Thanks to Betsy and her brother.”

Jack reached for Betsy’s hand and she stepped closer.

“Gentlemen, please be seated.” Betsy said. “I know you have a lot of questions. And Jack does too.”

The five men took the empty chairs Betsy had arranged so they all faced each other while they talked.

“You don’t recognize us, do you?” one of the men asked. He was darker than the others, as if he might have a bit of Romany in him.

Jack shook his head. “Things are starting to come back in flashes. I know we’re Bedford Street investigators, and our headquarters is on Bedford Street.”

“That’s where I live with my wife Cora,” the man who introduced himself as Mack said.

Jack’s gaze darted to meet Betsy’s and there was a hint of humor—and relief—in her eyes.

“I know that one of you is called Quinn.”

A hand went up.

“One of you Roarke…”

The man with the dark features raised his hand.

“One of you Hugh.”

Another hand lifted.

“And Briggs.”

“That’s me,” the last man said.

“I know we’re friends,” Jack offered, then amended his statement. “At least I think we’re friends.”

“As close as brothers,” the man called Briggs said.

Jack couldn’t explain the pull on his heart when the five men facing him nodded to confirm Briggs’s statement.

“What happened to you?” Mack asked. “Do you remember?”

Jack shook his head. “Not much. I’ve pieced together some of the details, some from Betsy. She and her brother rescued me.” Jack gave Betsy’s fingers a gentle squeeze. That’s when he realized he hadn’t released her hand yet.

“She found me on Old Nichol Street. A gang of men were pounding the life out of me. She and her brother Nick brought me here. Otherwise I’d be dead.”

“Then we owe you a debt of thanks, Betsy,” the man called Quinn said.

“What were you doing at Old Nichol Street? Does this have anything to do with the case the Metropolitan Police wanted you to look into?”

“I’m not sure. It must. The men who attacked me work for a man called Cutter.”

Five pair of eyebrows lifted.

“Have you heard of him?” Jack asked.

Mack answered for the group. “Everyone in law enforcement has. He’s become one of the most dangerous criminals in London’s East End.”

“Except he’s expanding his territory further west,” Jack added.

“Do you know what business he’s in?” Quinn asked.

“Extortion. He concentrates on providing protection for businesses.”

“Let me guess,” Hugh said. “Terrible things happen when people don’t pay for his protection.”

Jack raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. If not for the lad Willie who brought you here, I wouldn’t even know that much. I don’t have proof that’s what he’s doing.”

“Then maybe I can be of some help,” Betsy’s brother Nick said from the open doorway. “Cutter’s men just paid me a visit. For the meager sum of one hundred pounds a month, they guarantee that Thomas and Son’s Tobacco Shop is immune from the rash of breakins happening along High Holborn.”

Betsy rushed to her brother’s side. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

“Not this time. But they hinted that they wouldn’t be so polite the next time they came.”

Jack rose. “Men, this is Nickolas Thomas, Betsy’s brother. He owns a tobacco shop on High Holborn.”

Jack introduced the men one by one. When he finished, Nick sat with them and explained every detail of the visit Cutter’s men paid him.

“Did they say when they would return for the first payment?”

“Tomorrow,” Nick said.

The looks the five investigators exchanged indicated the close bond the Bedford Street investigators had.

“We’ll be ready for them,” Mack said.

“I certainly hope so,” Nick added. “Cutter needs to be stopped. Word on the street is that he’s offering a substantial sum of money for information that will lead him to a Bedford Street investigator who matches Jack’s description.”

. . .

Betsy sat with Jack in the moonlight. After making plans for how they would handle Cutter’s men when they visited Nick again, they left to go to their own homes. All except one.

She wasn’t sure which investigator finally won the argument—they all wanted to be the one who got to stay to protect Jack—but they decided that someone needed to stand guard outside the house. Just in case Cutter discovered where Jack was.

Betsy thought what it must be like to have so many friends that concerned about you. She had friends. Several, in fact. But none so close that they would go to such lengths to protect her. Only Phoebe would have done that. Only Phoebe had been that close.

After Phoebe was gone, Betsy didn’t allow anyone to get that close to her again. Losing someone that special hurt too much. And this time she doubted she could survive the loss.

“You’re terribly quiet tonight,” Jack said from beside her.

“Just thinking.”

“Thinking? Or worrying?”

Betsy smiled in the moonlight. “Phoebe always said that every family needed a worrier. She gave me that honor.”

“I won’t ask what you’re worried about because I think I know. But there’s no need to worry. Our plan is perfect. When Cutter’s men pay your brother a visit tomorrow, we’ll be waiting. Your brother will insist that he speaks to Cutter personally before he agrees to anything. He’ll set up a meeting with Cutter for the following day.”

“What if Cutter doesn’t agree to come?”

“He will. There’s nothing for him to lose by refusing.”

“Then what?” Betsy asked.

“When Cutter comes, he’ll explain the terms of his protection plan: How much his protection fee is.” He paused. “The danger if Nick refuses his offer.”

He turned to look her in the eyes. “Once we overhear him threaten your brother, we can make an arrest. The authorities are ready to proceed from there.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Betsy said. She knew there were dangers involved—huge dangers. Dangers that could leave one or more of the Bedford investigators dead.

“It won’t be easy, Betsy. I’ll be the first to admit that. But there aren’t finer men anywhere than the five men who were here this afternoon. There isn’t one of them I wouldn’t trust with my life.”

She let her gaze rest on him, on his handsome face, on his strong features. The bond she felt when she was near him weakened every part of her body. She loved him with a desperation she didn’t know was possible to possess. As long as she was with him, she wasn’t sure she needed air to breathe. He provided anything she needed.

And loss of him would be greater than she could survive.

“I know Cutter has to be stopped. You won’t be safe until he is.”

“Neither will you, or Nick, or anyone else he gets his claws into.”

Betsy nodded. She knew he was right. “Your memory has returned, hasn’t it?”

He nodded. “By the time Mack and the others had left this afternoon, I’d remembered everything about each one of them. It was as if a door to my memory opened and I saw everything that was locked away.”

“I’m glad.”

He reached for her hand and held it. “I am, too. When Cutter’s men started beating me, I thought I was going to die. I fought as long as I could, but it was no use. There were too many of them. I remember a voice deep inside me screaming that this couldn’t be happening. That I wasn’t ready to die.”

A lump formed in Betsy’s throat and she hugged Jack’s arm and leaned into him. He answered her movement by lifting his arm and placing it around her shoulder. He nestled her closer. She turned into him and wrapped her arm around his middle.

“I pictured my mum and dad. I remembered my brothers and sisters gathered around our table. We weren’t rich, but there was always plenty to eat. My dad made sure of it. He and my mum would go without before they’d let one of us go hungry. I remember thinking how much I was going to miss them. How much I wanted to enjoy that closeness again.”

Betsy felt the first tears stream down her face and she swiped them away.

“Don’t cry, Betsy. I’m not telling you this to make you feel sad.” He turned her in his arms. “I’m telling you because I want you to know how much I owe you. Because I want you to know how special you are.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Because I want you to know that I love you.”