Daniel didn’t slump in relief, but I saw his tension ease. As he turned back to the hurt men, he caught sight of me and halted, his gaze meeting mine.

Daniel stared at me, probably wondering how on earth I’d come to be there. When I took a step toward him, he shook his head and glanced almost imperceptibly at the bespectacled man.

He did not want me near with that man about, that was clear. I understood the warning, if not the reason.

I subsided, admitting to myself that I did not want to be subject to the man’s chill gaze. I returned to Bessie and Jack and continued to work, until the guards began herding their charges back into the prison. When I looked up again, Daniel and the man with spectacles had gone.

Jack caught Bessie in a hard embrace and gave her a kiss on the lips. Bessie clung to him, face wet with tears.

“None of that now,” a guard said, but good-naturedly. “Come on, Jack. Six months more, and ye can kiss her all ye like.”

Jack held Bessie a moment longer then released her with a resigned grin. “Not too long, love.” He touched her face, then the guard came to him, and Jack regretfully let Bessie go.

“Look after her, Mrs. Holloway,” Jack said, bending his smile on me. “Don’t let her do nuffink daft. All right, all right, don’t worry,” he said to the guard. “I’m a-going back to my palace.”

He strode off with the remaining prisoners, leaving Bessie trying to bravely wave a good-bye.

I put my arm through hers. “Come along, my girl. We both need a strong cup of tea.”

*   *   *

Jack and me, we’ve been together forever,” Bessie said as we held cups of pleasantly steaming brew. “Seems like it, anyway. Since we was kids.”

We sat at the tea shop near the Foundling Hospital, the one to which I’d taken Grace last Thursday. We’d cleaned ourselves the best we could with handkerchiefs and water from a public pump, and I convinced the girl in the tea shop to let us in. She remembered me and grudgingly waved us to a table, plunking a hot teapot and two cups in front of us.

“You were a foundling,” I said to Bessie, remembering what Mrs. Compton had mentioned about her. “Was Jack?”

“Jack? Naw.” Bessie had laid aside her now-torn shawl, and dark curls framed her face, softening it and showing her prettiness. “But he worked at the Hospital as a lad, doing odd jobs or helping carpenters with repairs to the building—there’s always something what needs fixing. Jack and I would sneak into empty rooms and talk, and when we were daring, hold hands. It were innocent. We were children. Then when we got older, and both started working, we thought, might as well get married. Would save up and do it.”