“We cannot be silent. If we are to act, I say we act now, boldly, as one. Decisively, so there is no mistaking our intentions.” Men surged around him, raising their fists as he called to them. “Who is with me, to save our livelihoods? To save our families? To force change? If they will not hear our pleas, we must cease trying to reason with them. We must act!”

A cheer went up, and Finch was lifted from the crate to men’s shoulders. Juliette stood on tiptoe, searching for Uncle Bertie. Her heart hammered in her ears, and a jolt shot up her spine. What did these people intend? To sweep down the road to Whitehall and attack men as they entered Parliament? Did they mean to kill someone? Or destroy a factory or mill? The power as they jostled frightened her. Where had the silent streams of downtrodden workers gone? In their place, a pulsing, angry mob had taken over.

Someone grabbed one of the torches and shouted, “Let’s go! I know the first place.” Several others shouted their approval, and as a mass they surged toward the doors.

“Wait! We must organize! We must strategize! We cannot—” Jasper Finch’s protests and commands were drowned out by the shouts, the pounding feet, the tide of anger his speech had provoked.

A hard shoulder hit Juliette in the chest, propelling her backward into the wall, where her head struck the bricks. Stars shot across her vision. She reeled, her knees turning to water and her eyes blurring with tears. The floor seemed to rise up, and she was helpless to stop herself from falling. Her cheek impacted the dirty, damp floor. Boots scuffled, buffeting her, and she put her hands over her head both to protect it and to try to mute the throbbing.

Where was Uncle Bertie? Another heavy boot hit her thigh. Pain arched up her leg. She tried to roll over, to brace herself to rise, but weakness overwhelmed her.

Strong hands clamped onto her waist, hauling her up and into a solid form. Panic gave her strength, and she writhed, hitting out against whoever was holding her in such a viselike grip.

“Stop. You’re safe now. Come with me. We have to get out of here.”

The words shot through her terrified fog, the voice penetrating her senses.

Where was this infernal meeting, anyway? Haverly’s message, retrieved from a dead drop near his boardinghouse, had only said Daniel must be at a certain address at ten, dress as a laborer, and gather what information he could from an anarchist rally.