The Secret in East End [Agents of the Crown #1]

Chapter 17

When she had woke up that morning, images and memories had flooded in. Being dressed in frilly dresses, forcing her brother to play tea party with her. Her father had called her princess, and her mother had called her Rochelle. But Lucan had an issue pronouncing her name when they were younger, and the name Elle had stuck as she grew up.

Despite being in the dark, in the wee hours of the morning, Elle's head swam with pictures, voices, names she had forgotten for years, and the sheer amount of information coming in right at that moment made the pounding in her head grow in volume. No matter how tight she squeezed her eyes shut, they just came in. How she and her brother used to sneak into the kitchen of Greystoke Manor to steal their cook's delicious raspberry puffs. Their trips to London every Season, she watching enviously from the banisters as her mother got ready for the parties and balls.

She used to watch with envy as her father kissed her mother's wrist, and brought her out. Young Elle had dragged her brother with her, feigning a dance. Lucan had played along, but as he grew older, he had lesser time for such frivolous activities.

And she had ran that night. The night her father had pushed her out, and she had ran until her chest hurt, her lungs hurt. A couple of muggers had found her, ripped the high quality linen off her. She had fought like a wildcat, and all she got in return was a split open head and 12 years of her life lost.

The more she thought, the more the fact that she was now back began to overwhelm her. She had seen first hand how deadly being in the ton could be. Back as a girl, she had a rough inkling. Now as a young lady? Even when she didn't remember who she was, Elle could recall the sideways glances thrown her way when Fabian had first brought her out in his carriage. She remembered the disgusted looks the uppercrust of society threw at her when she was a ratty old pickpocket. Did she really want to be part of that?

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Elle had decided that lying in bed wasn't going to be much help. Rather then being trapped in a room, she had proceeded to jump into a muslin peach dress too large for her, wrapped an oversized coat around her shoulders and stepped into the dark morning. The sun was just beginning to rise, illuminating enough around her so it wasn't pitch black.

And Elle had walked.

For how long, she did not know, but she had walked. And the longer she walked, the more she found her thoughts drifting back not only to Lucan, whom she now knew was her brother. But they went to Fabian. Every so often, Elle would be reminded how Fabian steadfastly stood next to her despite everything that had happened. Even if Lucan was her brother, his zealousness in getting back to her was mildly terrifying to Elle, and Fabian's presence was a comfort. He was like a pillar that could never move as long as she was next to it, and for the first time in so long... Elle found she actually felt safe next to him.

That realization hit her like a tonne of bricks, drawing her to a stop. From the past few months with Fabian Rothesay, he has shown her that not everyone in London was obsessed with either money or power. Despite being the heir to a dukedom, he worked as an Agent, and was not one of those dandies who just sat around gambling or whoring. But more then everything, she's seen the genuine concern he has for his family and for his closest friends, and that was perhaps what drawed Elle the most to him. Quite unlike the rest of the fun-loving young men in society, Fabian had a a sense of responsibility which made her able to rely on him for anything she wanted.

It was a sudden want to see him, despite it being the crack of dawn, that made Elle spin on her heel, full of intent to return to the townhouse she had left. That intent was quickly dashed when she felt an arm circle her waist, and a soaked rag brought to cover her nose. All it took was a deep breathe, and Elle was lost to the world.