Page 83 of An Unwitting Alliance
“But I was wrong about so many other things.” Cassandra hoped Patricia would not make the same mistake.
Megan patted her hand. “It is not too late where Tom is concerned.”
“Who can resist my stubborn heart?”
Megan grimaced. “May you love harder than you fight.”
Cassandra wished for the very same thing. Her trust in Tom was so new, she could not be certain of their future. She ached for him to assure her that he was safe and that her heart was safe with him too.
* * *
The workhouse rescue hadn’t gone as planned. Tom and Ian managed to enter the workhouse, thanks to Miles’s exceptional acting abilities—no one could think such a genuine face and kind voice capable of lying. Tom had disappeared from their side at the first opportunity to search for Alan. He knew the layout now, and it didn’t take long to discover Alan locked in the washroom.
Mr. Longbottom had permitted the older boys to punish Alan severely again, and in order for Tom to get the trembling boy to trust him, he’d removed his beard to reveal his true identity. Such an action had been his folly, as Mr. Longbottom had come upon them at just that moment. With one look at the beardless signore Rossi, Longbottom’s patience had disappeared and he’d swung his fist at Tom.
Being the stronger of the two, Tom had overtaken Longbottom easily. Unfortunately, his upper hand had not held. Someone had attacked him from behind. Pain had shot through his skull just before he lost consciousness.
He came to again just as Ian finished dragging him into the fresh air outside the workhouse.
“What were you thinking pulling down your beard?” Ian growled.
Tom wanted to explain, but spots still clouded the edges of his vision. With Paul’s added help, he was assisted inside the carriage.
“Alan...” He had to know the boy’s fate.
“He is in the first carriage. Miles is with Jemma, Lisette, and Mrs. Fielding too.”
“And Longbottom?”
Ian huffed. “Your punch knocked him out. I forgot how effective your right hook is. But when he wakes, he’ll have a beastly headache, and I wager he’ll be angry enough to kill someone. Let’s just hope it is not any of us.”
“Who hit me in the head?” The brawl was hazy now, and Tom couldn’t remember the specifics.
“A woman.”
“What? Was it the governess?”
“Not by the looks of her,” Ian said, peering through the carriage window. “But she thought you were attempting to steal the boy and hit you over the head with a coal shovel.”
“A coal shovel?” Tom groaned. “No wonder I hurt like the devil.” He eased himself to the edge of the seat. “I think I’ve rested long enough. Let’s finish this.”
Ian shook his head. “There is nothing to finish. It’s over.”
“Not until we get Mrs. Kelby.”
Ian glanced at Paul and hesitated.
Tom frowned. “What is it?”
Paul swallowed. “Mrs. Kelby is dead.”
No. They’d come too late. Tom’s breath left him in a rush, and he sank back into the seat, barely aware now of the pain it brought him. “When?”
Ian answered, his voice somber. “Last night. Miles ascertained the news before Longbottom came upon you.”
Consumption had taken another life. Robbed another family. Destroyed the innocence of a child. The suffocating power of grief settled in Tom’s chest and took hold of him. He had fought this feeling for so long, but now it consumed him. It did not matter that he had never met Mrs. Kelby. Grief was not particular.
Louisa put her hand on Tom’s and squeezed it. “I am so sorry, Tom.” For once, her ever-present smile was absent. Before she had married Paul, she had lost both her parents. She knew the pain Tom was struggling with, though it was only a fraction of what Alan would feel.
