Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

21: Fury No Rats

The note was from Simon, who had arrived at the townhouse with the rest of their family just in time to receive a bedraggled, sceptical boy from whom he eventually coaxed one very important detail: the Spanish women were at the docks. Vincent discovered this only once he'd followed Thomas into the carriage with a deep frown, and the man had all but tossed the note in his direction. It was read and absorbed in a silence that neither man was willing to break.

As the carriage jolted over the cobbled streets, rage roared in Thomas' chest, the subject of his ire switching intermittently. The note would grab his attention and he would loathe his father and the abhorrent things the man would do for more money and more power. The note from the docks was a relief – there was a real chance they might rescue the women – but also strangely thrilling. He'd been waiting his whole life to avenge the sins of his family, and here he finally had the opportunity.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Vincent shift in the corner. His hand lifted, his mouth opened...

Thomas cut him off. "Not now, Vincent."

And with that, his fury changed focus to the man sitting opposite him blinking rapidly into the tension. The man he loved who had told him to hide himself away. If he reached beyond the anger in that moment, deep down beneath it, he might have found a bruised, aching heart that wished their conversation had never happened. So he did not reach.

Settling down further in his seat, Thomas folded his arms across his chest and stared at the seat before him. He was also insulted by Vincent's claim that he 'protected' the man! By asking Miss Clark to dance, he had thought only to spare Vincent discomfort – he had not intended it to be a dire insult to the man's character! He'd spotted her approach across the room and thought that Vincent couldn't ha-

That he could not handle it by himself.

Thankfully, the carriage jolted to a halt, pulling Thomas out of the way of any feelings of guilt and back into urgent anger where he belonged. He pushed open the door and leapt own onto the footpath, taking the stairs to the Humphrey townhouse two at a time. The butler was clearly expecting them – the door already held ajar – and before Thomas could ask, he was gestured to the study.

Jack was standing in the centre of the room, lanky and filthy, but with his chin held high as he surveyed the three men in front of him. Simon sat behind the desk, smiling comfortingly; Bart watched sceptically from across the room, leaning against a book shelf that didn't quite look like it could support his weight; and Matt lounged in an armchair, surprisingly without a drin-

No, never mind, Thomas spotted it on the table beside him.

The Humphreys did not hold his attention for long, however, and he quickly moved to Jack's side.

"You bring news, Jack?"

There was a fleeting shine of recognition, but Jack's serious stare remained otherwise unchanged as he turned his attention to Thomas. "Ay, we seen the women you wanted word of."

Thomas tried to keep his eagerness at bay. "How many?"

"'Bout a dozen?"

In other circumstances, he might have let out a whoop of joy. Instead, he clapped the boy on the shoulder. "Very well done, Jack. We'll get you some food, and perhaps a coat?" He glanced at Simon, briefly wondering if the man minded him giving orders in his home. The eldest Humphrey simply dipped his head to indicate the doorway, where a maid already waited.

She shepherded the boy out quickly.

"We've found them," Thomas declared into the waiting silence, hoping he imagined the tremble on his voice. He took a seat, perched on the edge of an armchair, just in case his legs were quivering too. He was filled with relief, like a wet cloth set across his chest, but there was also urgency; the women were still far from safe.