The Making Of A Gentleman. Ruth Axtell Morren

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СКАЧАТЬ you.” She noticed he didn’t leave the knife lying there, but stuck it back in his waistband after wiping it clean on his sleeve.

      She moved her chair closer to the table and took a piece of bread, eyeing the dried-looking cheese. Quinn was halfway through his bread before she’d even finished arranging her meat and cheese atop hers. He reached across the table and took a swig from the bottle.

      He caught her watching him. He lowered the bottle, setting it back with a thump before wiping his mouth with the same sleeve he’d used to clean the knife.

      His eyes weren’t dark as she’d first supposed. No, they were bottle-green like the one on the table, reflecting the flickering flames of the fire, beneath thick black brows and curly, brushlike lashes. For a split second, staring into those deep-fringed eyes, she thought she read vulnerability, a lost soul needing a message of hope. The next instant, he blinked, appearing once more savage and ferocious.

      She looked away and took a bite of her bread and cheese, tugging as delicately as she could at the dry crust to tear it free. Although the stale food made her thirsty, she refused to drink from the bottle. No doubt it contained cheap gin. She noted he didn’t offer her any but did leave the bottle within reach of them both. The chill in the cellar seeped to her very bones. What she wouldn’t give for a hot cup of tea.

      The Lord would provide in His time, she reminded herself, more certain than ever now that He had a purpose in bringing her here.

      The edge of her hunger abated, she folded her hands on the rough tabletop and formulated what she should say. Above all else, she was the Lord’s vessel. She licked dry lips. What would her brother do in her place? Damien was such a thoughtful man, so sweet of temperament. She slipped her watch out of the pocket of her dress.

      Quinn was immediately alert, watching her movements.

      Slowly, she lifted her hand. “It’s my watch.”

      Relief darted through his hard expression and he looked back down at his food.

      It was only half past eight. She found it hard to believe little over an hour had passed since she was standing at the gallows. She snapped the watch closed and stowed it away.

      She cleared her throat. “How long do you plan to hold me here?”

      He continued to chew. Finally he shrugged. “Until I figure out what to do with you.”

      “You won’t get away, you know,” she said, ignoring the fear his words had sent through her. Would he keep her here the entire day? What of Damien? Had he noticed her absence yet?

      Quinn glanced up briefly from his food. “What d’ye know of anything?”

      “Your only help now is Christ.”

      He swore.

      She pursed her lips. “That certainly won’t put you in His good graces.”

      When he said nothing, she continued. “They’ll soon begin combing the neighborhoods. They’ll flush you out like a partridge.”

      He snorted. “In this stew? They’re scared o’ stepping foot in here.”

      “Not if they’re well armed.”

      He shrugged. “I’ll keep moving. They’ll never be able to look in every hole of this rookery.” He wiped his mouth again with the back of his hand. “The place is filled with Irish. They’ll never give me away. They hate the English too much. Like as not, they’ll send the soldiers on a wild-goose chase.”

      She pressed her lips together in consternation. His escape from the gallows certainly had done nothing to lessen his arrogance. “For a time, perhaps, but eventually the arm of the law is too strong. Where can you run?” Maybe if he were desperate enough, he’d listen to reason.

      He swore at her. “Shut your bleedin’ trap. It’s none o’ your concern.”

      “It is since you kidnapped me.”

      “That was to ensure me safety. As soon as it’s nightfall, you’ll be free to go. I won’t be here, if you’re thinking o’ sending the constable looking for me,” he added with a rude laugh.

      The relief at his promise of her freedom was tempered by the fear of being left by herself in this rookery. “You needn’t worry that I’ll turn you in,” she said with a studied indifference. “You’ll have plenty to worry about on that score from the people in the neighborhood—or from your own companions, for that matter.”

      That last remark caught his attention. His eyes narrowed under his heavy brows. “You’re the prison lady.”

      She acknowledged the name they called her at Newgate with a slight inclination of her head. “Yes.”

      He swore again. “I thought there was somethin’ familiar looking about you. You’re the one that offers the condemned false hope.” He pushed the remains of the food away and belched. “As soon as you leave to your warm dwelling, they’re left in the filth and cold of their prison walls, trusting their future to empty promises of a savior.”

      “The only One who can help you now is that Savior.”

      “Bah! I’ll take my chances on me own.”

      “Where do you hope to go if you stay here? You may elude capture for a few days, maybe weeks, but eventually, they’ll catch you. If you leave here, there’ll be even a greater chance of detection. Someone will recognize you. Most people will fear you, the way you look now, like a great wild beast.”

      His eyes widened before they flickered away from her and back toward the fire.

      She leaned forward. “You can stow away on a ship, but then what? Where will you go? France? We’re at war with them. America? With the blockade?” She gave a doubtful laugh.

      Quinn’s large hands clenched on the tabletop, the only sign that her words were having any effect.

      “You could always turn yourself in—”

      “Never!”

      “In a few hours, days at most, they’ll have this place surrounded, mark my words—”

      He stood, knocking his chair over backward. “They’ll never take me alive.”

      She knew in those moments, as his green eyes stared into hers, that he spoke the truth.

      Realizing the futility of arousing his ire further, she tried another tack. “You could petition to have your case retried. It’s been done before.”

      “What do you know of my case?”

      “I know enough to know you may be as innocent as you claim.”

      Her words caught his attention. Picking up the fallen chair, he retook his seat.

      She leaned forward. “I’ve been around Newgate long enough to know that witnesses can be bought or sold.”

      He seemed to weigh her words a moment longer before shaking his head. “They’ll never believe me if they didn’t СКАЧАТЬ