A Matter of Grave Concern (17 page)

She cringed when Jack turned his bloodshot eyes on her, but Max stepped in again, drawing Jack’s attention back to him. “Someone spotted our lamp and called out an alarm that brought down what felt like an army. It could happen any night. We could have been arrested, or beaten, or . . . only God knows. You’re well aware of the risks.”

“An army, eh?” Jack focused on that part and ignored the rest. “One would think you’d be done for.”

“That’s what we thought,” Max said.

“Then how is it the two of you got away?”

There was that doubt again, that underlying suspicion that kept them in constant jeopardy. Abby held her breath while she waited to hear what Max would say.

“We broke up, spread out, and did the best we could.”

“And Emmett? You don’t know what became of him?”

“I’ve already told you I don’t,” Max said. “We were too busy doing everything in our power to escape.”

“I’m sure he’ll thank you for running out on him.”

Max grabbed his mug and stood. “I wouldn’t call that running out. I had Abby to consider. Would you have wanted her to be arrested? For it to come out that she has been here with us the whole time?”

“With
you
, Max. You’re the only one who’s had any benefit from her being here. So far, she’s only cost me money.”

“Makes no difference,” Max argued. “I couldn’t let her fall into their hands. There’s no telling what they would have done.”

“I wonder if Emmett knew you’d put her first, that’s all,” Jack said.

Bill chuckled uncomfortably. “Come on, Jack. Emmett might be young but he can fend for himself. She’s a woman.”

“So?” Jack challenged. “Emmett’s more valuable to me than she is.”

“We went back later,” Max told them. “We couldn’t find Emmett.”

“Listen to that,” Bill said. “They did all they could. Emmett will show up eventually. There’s no need to cause a row with Max, or before you know it, we’ll be a gang of only two. And what we do is too hard for that.”

“We could manage. At least I can trust
you
,” Jack grumbled.

“You think Abby and I
wanted
this to happen?” Max asked.

Jack took a long pull on his beer. “I can’t figure out what you want.”

“I’ve told you. I want the money to pay off my debts.”

“Then you’ll have to be more successful than you were last night, won’t you!” Jack glared at him over the rim of his cup. “Where’s the corpse you went after? If it’s still in the ground, we should go back there tonight, before it can decompose any further.”

Max shook his head. “It’s not in the ground. Emmett hauled it away.”

Abby wondered what Jack would do if he learned that they had taken the body to Aldersgate. She had been grateful for Max’s help last night, but only now did she realize just how much he had done for her, and why he had insisted they not dispose of the cart until they were well away from Smithfield. Jack had regretted letting her return the college’s money almost from the moment he agreed to it. He would not be pleased that she had cost him even more.

“You gotta love that kid,” Jack said. “You’re protecting your willy’s interests while he’s seeing to business.”

“In all likelihood, trying to take the body is what got him caught,” Max pointed out. “That cost us a good cart.”

“
Now
you’re seeing the wisdom of it. Maybe we can find it.”

“I told you. We went back to the cemetery. There was no Emmett and no cart. So why return again? They’ll only be waiting for us next time.”

Jack sneered at him. “They were waiting for you last time. Maybe tonight we fight back—teach ’em a lesson for Emmett.”

Although it wasn’t unheard of for mourners to get into a skirmish with resurrection men, Max rolled his eyes. “You’re drunk.”

The contempt in those two words made Abigail fear how Jack might respond. Bill must have had the same reaction because he stepped in to smooth things over. “We made up for the loss, Jack. Got fifteen guineas ourselves last night, didn’t we?”

Instead of ratifying what he had just heard, Jack sent Bill a quelling glance. “Shut the hole in your face before I shut it for you.”

Bill’s placating smile withered and he went back to drinking.

“You sold another corpse? Where’d you get it?” Max’s questions were directed at both of them, but Bill kept his eyes on his cup and didn’t answer.

“There was no other corpse,” Jack said.

“You got fifteen guineas for something,” Max responded.

“Bill doesn’t know what the hell he’s talkin’ about,” Jack said. “He never does.”

Max sat back down and stretched out his legs. “Emmett told us you went looking for Tom. Did you manage to find him?”

Jack glowered at him. “Emmett doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about, either. We met a gravedigger who led us to his last few graves. Right, Bill?”

When Bill grunted in agreement, Max pursed his lips, considering. “You just said you didn’t sell another corpse.”

“Doesn’t matter. What we did tonight is none of your damn business,” Jack snapped.

Max leaned forward. “And Tom?”

“Forget Tom! He left of his own accord, and he won’t be coming back.”

“Because . . .”

“He knows better than to show his face around here after what he did.”

He sounded so certain . . .

Abigail noticed how Max’s knuckles whitened on his cup and guessed he was thinking the same thing she was: Tom knew better than to come back—or, now that Jack had finished with him, he
couldn’t
.

Chapter 18

When Abby entered their room, she expected Max to follow her. But he didn’t. He continued down the hall, only to return a moment later—with her elephant.

Suddenly homesick, Abby took it and hugged it to her chest. “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond. He just stood there, watching her.

“What?” she said, growing self-conscious beneath his unwavering regard.

“I was wrong to let you talk me into bringing you back here, Abby. It’s not safe.”

“I told you I won’t go out again, not at night. I’ll leave the body snatching to you and the others.”

“But you’re not safe even in this house! I was deluded to think you might be. Maybe Jack has accepted your presence, but he can’t be trusted. You saw how he acted a minute ago. And there’s no telling what he and Bill did to Tom.”

“Tom betrayed him.”

“And what are we doing? What if he were to find out? Tom’s probably dead!”

“That’s one of the many reasons Jack must be stopped. I’m trying to help you accomplish that.” After last night, he had to know that
he
was the real reason she had stayed. But he was suddenly acting as if her presence was all about the practicalities of their situation.

“I’ve told you, this is not
your
fight. The college has its money and its cadaver, and you have your mother’s last gift. Let me take you back to Aldersgate right this minute, while it’s still possible to get you home unharmed.”

She could hear Jack and Bill downstairs, and lowered her voice so they wouldn’t be able to hear her. “If I wanted to be at Aldersgate, I would have stayed when we were there delivering that corpse.”

He had tried to convince her to do just that, and she had briefly considered it. What they had encountered at the cemetery had scared her enough to make her realize that she was in real danger, and not just from Jack. Anything could happen.

But after they put the corpse in the cellar and she pressed her hands up against the brick building that had been her home for so many years, deliberating, she no longer felt as if she belonged there. Something had changed in the brief time she’d been gone—
she’d
changed. She felt like a butterfly that had been let out of a jar. She was no longer provided for—but she was no longer caged, either.

There was also the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to let Max walk away, of course. She feared if she did, she would never see him again.

“Surely, after all that’s occurred, you must see that this is no place for a woman,” he said. “No business for a woman to be in.”

She put her elephant on the vanity with the brush and mirror set he had given her. “Without me, you would have been caught at St. George’s.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They caught Emmett. They only let us go because they thought we were . . . you know.” After the pleasure they had given each other, she could no longer address those issues from a clinical standpoint. He had been right that first night when he told her intimacy was nothing like what she had read in her father’s medical journals—at least it wasn’t when the heart was as engaged as the body. And, for her, that had definitely been the case.

His beard growth rasped as he rubbed a hand across his chin. “Emmett tried to escape while encumbered with a corpse. He’s young enough to feel invincible. I would not have been so stupid.”

“That doesn’t mean you would have escaped without me. Anything could have happened.”

“That’s what frightens me!” he said, exasperated. “I’m afraid if we ever get into another situation like that, I won’t be able to protect you!”

“So you’d like me to leave.”

“Yes! Jack resents the fact that I have you in my bed. He won’t let it go.”

“What about us?”

A pained expression crossed Max’s face. “Abby—”

“I know you care about me,” she insisted.

“Let’s not go into that.”

“Why not? What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of hurting you! We have no future together!”

It was difficult not to wince. He had told her that before but . . . she had been certain she could get him to change his mind. The way he looked at her had to count for something, didn’t it?

Or had she misjudged his many kindnesses? The way he protected her from Jack? The desire he seemed to feel when they touched?

“That could change, couldn’t it?” she said. “I mean—”

“No!”

He was so absolute she could scarcely breathe. “
Why?
”

“Because my plans don’t include you! I thought I made that clear.”

He had—but he had also made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. Last night had encompassed so much more than the physical. She
knew
it did. “You have to feel more than you’re admitting.”

With a muttered curse, he put his back to her.

“Max?”

He didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was so low she could barely hear him. “Abby, this isn’t about what I feel.”

“Then what is it about? Tell me! Tell me at last!”

With a sigh, he faced her. “I’m afraid there’s someone else.”

She could only hope she had heard him wrong. “
What did you say?
”

“It’s true,” he replied, but she could tell that from his face. “I’m engaged to be married.”

She pressed a hand to her chest as she tried to absorb this revelation. She had thought he would blame the situation he was in, the fact that his own future was uncertain, that his stint in Wapping could drag on. She had not expected another woman! Why hadn’t he mentioned being in love? And that woman was going to be his wife!

“Who . . . who is she?” Dear God, she could scarcely form the words.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does it matter? The less you know about me and my life, the better.”

She blinked at him as she struggled to rally. Was this her fault? He
had
warned her not to get her hopes up, just as he said. She was the one who had blown sexual interest and compatibility into something more—because of her naiveté.

No wonder he had been trying so hard to keep his hands to himself.

Embarrassed by how forward she had been, how wanton, she managed the best smile she could under the circumstances, and politely dipped her head. “I see and I . . . I nearly forced myself on you on two separate occasions. I sincerely apologize. I didn’t realize your heart was taken.” She turned to get her elephant.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m leaving, of course. As you wish.” She abandoned the mirror and brush he gave her—obviously she had been deluded to think that was any kind of real gift—as well as the dress she had made from his clothes (
how angry he must be about that
), and tried to skirt past him.

He caught her by the arm. “Wait, please. I’ll take you after Jack goes to sleep.”

He had asked her to vacate the premises and she had agreed, but he didn’t appear to be pleased by the victory. If she had to guess, he was angry, and it was no wonder. Thanks to her silly infatuation, and the vain imaginings of her virgin heart, she had made fools of them both. If only he could have explained earlier . . .

“There’s no need to trouble yourself,” she said. “I will be fine.”

“You
can’t
go alone.” His fingers bit into her arm when she tried to pull away, but she could scarcely feel the pressure. There were too many things going on elsewhere in her body. Her chest was tight, her eyes burned.

She cleared her throat, trying to remove the lump that made it difficult to speak. “It’s broad daylight. Besides, I came down here on my own, didn’t I? Unhand me, sir.”

He looked strangely crestfallen when he gazed down at her. “Sir? I am
sir
to you now?”

“I don’t know what else to call you! I have already apologized for my . . . inexpert attempt to . . . to turn our relationship into more than you wish it to be. I can only beg your forbearance and understanding, given my lack of experience, and ask you to let me go so that I no longer have to suffer the humiliation of sitting here with you, knowing I encouraged you to . . . to act on certain base desires I misconstrued.”

“You didn’t misconstrue anything. I—never mind,” he said with some impatience. “There is nothing to be gained by trying to explain my actions. Just know that I assume full responsibility and lay no fault at your feet.”

“Thank you.” Again, she started to go, but he stopped her.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you won’t be leaving this house until I can escort you.” He glared down at her, his expression unyielding. So she backed up in order to get him to release her—it was too difficult being in such close proximity, too embarrassing to think she had flirted so terribly with a man committed to marrying another woman—and sat down to wait.

Silence settled over them. She tried to draw some sort of calm from it, but the tears she had been fighting began to slip down her cheeks. Mortified that she would embarrass herself further, she bent her head to stare at the floor. She hoped he wouldn’t notice, but when he cursed, she guessed he had.

“You love the college,” he said.

It was almost an accusation. She didn’t respond. What could she say? This had nothing to do with loving the college and everything to do with loving a man—loving
him
. In spite of all her previous opinions about marriage, she had begun to believe that she had found her place in the world, at last, and it was by his side.

“Someday they might admit you,” he added. “I mean . . . it’s a possibility, however remote.”

She wanted to wipe her cheeks, but she feared that would only draw attention to her distress.

He cleared his throat. “And think of how happy your father will be to see you.”

Her father would indeed be relieved. She missed him, and she missed others at Aldersgate. But what had happened over the past several days had radically changed how she viewed her future. There would be no going back to the way things were—even if her father allowed it. She was too aware of her own loneliness. This stint as a body snatcher—as loathsome as the job was, as loathsome as Jack and the rest were—had somehow brought her more fulfillment than she had ever known before. And what did she have at the college? She couldn’t even count on having a career, like her father.

There was no point in explaining any of that to Max, however. Why would what might become of her be any of his concern?

“Abby, are you listening? Everything will be fine.”

She didn’t look up.

“Because even if they don’t admit you, someday you will meet the right man—someone who will marry you and make you happy to be a wife and mother.”

As if taking too much for granted wasn’t humiliating enough, she had to sit there, crying as he told her how happy she would be with another man? Was he picturing how happy he would be with his betrothed?

Her gaze cut to the door, but he stepped in front of it, cutting her off before she could even make the attempt.

When she realized how carefully he was watching her, she dashed a hand across her face. What was the use of trying to hide her emotions? He could tell she was in tears, or he wouldn’t be trying so hard to console her.

“Don’t cry,” he said then, softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

She sniffed. “I’m not blaming you.
I’m
the bumbling halfwit. I understand that. I’m not sure how you avoided laughing at my clumsy attempts to . . . to make love to you.”

He seemed stricken by her last comment. “Don’t say that. I wasn’t tempted to laugh because there was nothing clumsy about it. Your touch, it . . . it tested me almost beyond my ability to resist.”

She laughed humorlessly. “Of course it did. A man here, alone in this room with his . . . his betrothed elsewhere. I’m sure any woman would have been a temptation. So put us both out of our misery and let me go. Once I walk out that door, you will never have to see me again.”

His face fell as if the thought of that made him feel as bad as it did her. “I’m not in such a rush that I would risk your safety.”

“Oh bother! You have no say in the matter!” She got up in spite of his refusal—but before she could take a single step, someone banged on the front door downstairs.

“Jack! Damn you! What have you done to my brother?”

Her own troubles momentarily forgotten, Abby looked to Max.

“It’s Peter, Tom’s brother,” Max said. “I’ve met him before. And from the way he’s slurring his words, the poor bastard’s drunk.”

A keening wail rose to their ears. “You’ve killed him. I know you have. Open up for what you’ve got comin’, or I’ll break down the blasted door!”

Jack or Bill—Abigail couldn’t tell which from up in the bedroom—must have let Tom’s brother in, which was a mistake. Max knew it was, too, because the second that happened, he barked at her to stay put and hurried down the stairs.

“He told me you’d be after him!” Tom’s brother went on, his voice ricocheting through the house. “He said you were the devil hisself! What have you done with him, huh? Did you sell him to the bloody anatomists?”

“I haven’t seen him.” Jack sounded rather complacent for being falsely accused of murder, and he maintained that smug complacency throughout the argument that ensued.

Worried about Max in spite of her previous pique, Abigail moved out of the room. She stood at the top of the stairs, listening, as Tom’s brother insisted that a friend of his
saw
Jack and Bill dragging Tom through an alley.

Both Hurtsill brothers denied it. Max tried to act as mediator, tried to get Tom’s brother to put down a pistol. But then a blast rang through the air and there was a scuffle—what sounded like a few overturned chairs and two or more men wrestling.