With a warm smile, Roswell replied, “And I intend to honor that promise.”
Fredrick knew he was being unfathomably rude to Emilia, but the urgency of the situation, assuming Caleb was indeed in danger, left little room for politeness. He kicked his horse into a run, only slowing once they had left Hyde Park behind.
Navigating through the bustling streets of London proved to be rather difficult, but they moved as quickly as they could. It was a short time later when they arrived at Lord Drycott’s factory. In the daylight, the place appeared even more dismal, as if it were a destroyer of dreams.
They had just secured their horses when they could hear a commotion coming from a nearby alleyway. Not sure what they were walking into, they both removed their pistols and cautiously approached the alleyway.
In the dimly lit alley, Fredrick and Roswell came to a halt, peering into the shadows. They witnessed Caleb being held by two burly men, while a third man prepared to strike him again. Caleb’s face, swollen and bruised, bore the signs of a severe beating, and he seemed unable to withstand much more of the punishment.
“Stop!” Fredrick ordered as he pointed the pistol at Caleb’s attacker. “Let him go.”
The assailant reluctantly lowered his fist and turned towards Fredrick. “This does not concern you, bloke.”
“It does now,” Fredrick asserted.
With a cocky smirk, the man taunted, “You only have two bullets and there are three of us.”
Roswell’s voice was firm as he interjected, “You’re mistaken if you think we need these pistols to deal with you.”
“We have a job that we need to finish,” the man spat out.
Stepping closer, Fredrick declared, “That job ends now. Let him go and you can walk out of here with your lives.”
The man eyed him with a dangerous glint. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“If you were smart, you would,” Fredrick said.
Caleb’s attacker studied Fredrick, attempting to discern the sincerity behind his words. Fredrick’s resolve was unwavering, and this time, he wasn’t bluffing. He had no intention of lettinghis friend be murdered before his very eyes. He found no pleasure in taking another person’s life, but he was prepared to do so to defend Caleb.
The man waved his hand towards the other two attackers and grumbled, “Let him go. We can deal with him later.”
The men released Caleb, and he crumpled to his knees, doubling over in pain as he emitted a groan.
Fredrick kept his pistol trained on the men as they filed past him, refusing to grow complacent and turn his back on them. He had little doubt that these men would kill him, and he wasn’t about to make that mistake.
Once the men departed from the alley, Roswell lowered his pistol and rushed over to Caleb. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Caleb emitted another groan. “I will be. We need to leave before the men return.”
“Can you walk?” Roswell asked.
“Yes,” Caleb replied, his words lacking conviction.
Roswell crouched down and assisted him in rising. “Lean on me,” he encouraged. “We need to get you to a doctor.”
Fredrick exited the alley first, cautiously scanning for potential threats and confirming that the coast was clear. Once he was satisfied that they were alone, he returned to help Roswell support Caleb.
Caleb leaned heavily on them as they made their way towards their horses. It was evident that he was in significant pain with every breath, making Fredrick suspect that his friend might have broken ribs.
After they assisted Caleb onto Fredrick’s horse, he took the reins and began to lead the horse away from the factory. They wouldn’t be able to move very quickly at the pace they were going, but he knew that Caleb couldn’t handle anything more than a walk in his current condition.
Fredrick remained vigilant as they made their way through the dirtied streets of the rookeries. Dressed as gentlemen with fine horses, they naturally stood out. But his mind kept straying to the mysterious young woman that had helped them.
How had Simone known that Caleb was in danger? And more importantly, who was she?
Chapter Twelve
Emilia sat alone at the grand rectangular table in the dining room. Lily had decided it was best if she didn’t dine with her, and while Emilia understood her reasonings, she didn’t have to like them.