I scrambled to right myself. One of Denis's huge brutes charged me, and I ran, gritting my teeth on the pain. I wondered whether Nance had gotten away, and if so, where she had gone over the side.
In the shadow of the cabin a grappling hook bit into the planks of the deck. A taut rope drew a rowboat alongside. A bulky shadow of a man crouched in the stern, but in the bow, one foot on the gunwale, stood Lucius Grenville. Firelight glinted on his dark hair and his glittering eyes. In his hand he held a pistol, and he pointed it straight at me.
Chapter Twenty-One
I took one step back then dashed forward and flung myself over the side. Grenville shouted. The bitter cold water of the Thames took me, sliding greasily over my body. The cuts on my face stung as the grimy water closed over my head.
I kicked hard, and surfaced. Above me, Grenville fired. The spark flared in the night, and the roar deafened me. A thin spiral of smoke drifted upward, white against the darkness. On the deck, one of Denis's thugs fell, groaning.
A rope snaked across the space between me and the rowboat and slapped the water. I grabbed the line, wrapping it around my numb wrists. It tightened, dragging me toward the boat. I realized that the bulky figure behind Grenville, towing me to safety, was Aloysius Brandon.
I grabbed the side. Brandon reached down, seized me beneath the arms, and hauled me into the boat. I landed on the gunwale and rolled in, a crash of water following me. Grenville fired another pistol. Brandon abandoned me to slice the rope that bound us to Denis's boat.
"Wait." I climbed to my knees, my teeth chattering. "We must find Nance."
"What?"
"Nance. I told her I'd take her to shore. She can't swim."
"I can't make out what the devil you're saying, Lacey. Sit down. We're going."
"No," I choked.
Grenville swung around. "Are you talking about the girl? I saw her climb out of the cabin and go over the side. You came out just after."
My jaw shook hard with cold and reaction. "Where? Row 'round the boat."
Grenville dropped to the seat and grabbed the oars. I thought, hysterically, that I supposed I should take it as a compliment that he was ruining a pair of fine kid gloves to rescue me.
He competently pulled around the stern of Denis's boat. The cabin was completely ablaze now, and Denis's men had turned their efforts to dousing the fire. I expected any moment to see Nance clinging to the side, her black head above the water, but she did not appear. Grenville circled close, turning the boat on one oar.
I peered into the blackness, shading my eyes against the glare of the fire. "Nance!"
I heard nothing above the crackle of the flames. Other boats, attracted by the blaze, were moving toward us, coming to the aid of the ailing craft.
"Nance!"
My eyes stung, and my opium-fogged brain wanted to slip back to sleep. But the drug was wearing off enough for me to feel the wounds Denis's men had inflicted, along with the cuts from the skylight and the torn mess of my bare feet.
A pistol roared, and a ball whizzed by my head. Brandon ducked, cursing.
"Devil take it, Lacey, we have to go."
"I won't leave her."
Grenville rowed, breathing hard. I scanned the surface near the boat and the water beneath it. I saw nothing. We slid all the way back to our starting point.
"Go 'round again," I shouted.
Grenville bent over the oars. Brandon rose. "No. Leave it. Pull for shore."
"I'll not leave her!"
"We have to. There's no time."
My chest was hot, my belly clenched. "Go 'round again, Grenville. Do it."
"Damn you, Lacey. I'll make it an order if I have to."
I swung on Brandon. "I'm not leaving her here to rot, you bastard, like you left me. Grenville, row."
Another pistol shot whistled past us. Brandon seized me. "Do I need to knock you down?"
My rage came forth in a wash of madness. I hit him, hard, in the gut, and then in the jaw. Brandon cursed and spat blood. Then his head came up, and his eyes sparkled with all the fury and hatred he'd bottled up behind politeness for the last two years.
"Fuck you," he said.
I lunged for him. I beat him, the man I'd loved best in the world once upon a time, beat him with all the anger and rage and helplessness I'd felt when Denis's men had pummeled me. I beat him for Nance, drowning under the dark waters of the Thames, for Jane Thornton, who'd likely had gone to the same fate. I beat him for Aimee, broken and scarred by a monster, and for Louisa, who cared far too much for both of us. I beat him for myself and the ruin of my life.
Grenville grabbed me from behind. "Enough. Lacey, stop it. He's right. She's gone."
Brandon disentangled himself from me. Blood smeared his face and spattered his neckcloth.
The fight went out of me. Grenville held me for another moment or so until my rage washed away, and my legs buckled. I sank to the bottom of the boat and buried my head in my hands.
The other two fell silent. Brandon's breath gurgled in his throat. The fire on Denis's boat roared into the night.
Across the water came a muffled sobbing, quiet and soft, accompanied by faint splashing. I raised my head.
Grenville was on his feet, balancing against the pitch of the boat, sighting into the darkness. "There!" He pointed. I followed the line from his outstretched finger to a tiny patch of deeper darkness, bobbing in the current.
I got to my knees and grabbed an oar. Grenville dropped to the seat, snatched the oar from my grasp, and bent his back to turn the boat. Brandon half stumbled, half crawled to the tiller, seizing it as it began to slap against the water.
We slid across the current to the girl who floundered weakly in the shadow of Denis's boat, her cries growing fainter as we neared. I held the rope ready. Grenville competently turned to drift alongside Nance, just as her head went under.
I tossed away the rope, leaned hard over the side, and grabbed. Nancy's shoulder slipped from my grasp, but her hair tangled my wrist. I buried my fingers in it and hauled her upward. She came, all limp and heavy, and I got my hands under her arms and pulled her over the gunwale. Nance fell to the bottom with a wet slap, her skirt in shreds, her legs cut and bleeding.
Her eyes were closed, her skin cold and clammy. I rolled her onto her belly, and pressed hard on her ribs. I pushed and pushed, while my opium haze receded and pain ground through me.
At last, Nancy groaned and vomited up the dark water of the Thames. I pulled her into my arms, holding her, rocking her, kissing her wet face. Tears spilled from her eyes, but she clung to me, kissing me back, her lips weak.
Grenville took up the oars again and rowed us away from the conflagration and the boats zigzagging through the river, and toward the shore.
I awoke to warm sunshine, a sweet-smelling bed, and a cool hand on my brow.
"Louisa."
I caught her hand and gripped it, tight, tight. She returned the pressure, and our eyes met, and held.
I lay in a featherbed with cool sheets over me and lavender-scented pillows under my head. My body ached all over, my face stinging with healing cuts.
"Where am I?" I croaked. "This isn't your spare bedroom."
Louisa smiled. "No, it's Mr. Grenville's. He insisted you be brought here, and he sent for his own surgeon."
Damn good of him, but I felt a twinge of worry. "What about Nance? Where is she?"
"At my house, being fussed over by my cook and housemaid, hating every minute of it."
My face hurt too much for smiles. "She does not much like women."
"So I understand from her unfortunate language. Who is she?"