I cracked the door open just enough for the voices to tumble out to me, but I couldn't see anyone. "You can't send her back to the streets," Lady Harcourt said. "It's our moral duty to see that she has a home to go to."

"Why?" Gillingham countered. "She's not our responsibility."

"Gilly," the general chided.

"She's alone in the world." Lady Harcourt's usually serene voice turned crisp. "She needs guidance at this vulnerable age."

"She refused your offer of guidance, Julia," General Eastbrooke said. "I must admit, the chit doesn't seem to know what's good for her."

"We can't force her to live with me."

"But why doesn't she want to live with you?"

"I don't know."

"She's not used to living in a grand household," Fitzroy said. "There are rules and a specific way of doing things, whether she comes to you as a maid or a companion. It'll stifle her and she knows it. She's used to doing as she pleases."

"Then it's time she learned some discipline," Gillingham barked.

"Lincoln's right," Lady Harcourt said on a sigh. "More discipline will send her running away."

"I don't see a problem with that. Either she takes you up on your offer or we get rid of her. That's my advice."

"Get rid of her?" Fitzroy asked, tone icy.

"You know what I mean."

"No. I don't."

The leather of a chair creaked. "She's a magnet for madmen, a danger to everyone. Frankenstein may be dead, but there will be others. You know that, Fitzroy. She cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of unscrupulous types who'll use her as a weapon against us."

"Gilly, are you saying what I think you're saying?" the general asked.

"I am," he said darkly. "There's no need to spell it out."

Oh God. He meant to have me killed!

I sat back on my haunches and blinked through the small gap into the library. My heart had stopped beating. My sore throat ached more. I rose to my feet, steadying myself with a hand on the doorframe.

Run. Get away.

The round of protests from the other committee members made me pause, then Fitzroy's voice stopped me altogether. His harsh growl cut through the heated discussion.

"You won't touch her. None of you. And I will not do your dirty work on this. Is that clear, Gillingham?"

Someone—Gillingham?—made a strangled sound.

"Is that clear?" Fitzroy snarled.

"Yes, yes!"

The leather creaked again. Footsteps paced across the floor, but not near the door. Waiting for someone to speak was painful.

"Then what is to be done with her?" Lord Marchbank's calm words broke the tension. "Gillingham is right, in that she cannot be allowed to fall into our enemies’ hands. For that reason alone, I don't think sending her to Lady Harcourt's house is a good idea. There are too many people coming and going."

"What do you propose, March?" the general asked.

"The village near my Yorkshire estate is far from civilization. She'll be out of harm's way there. I know a kind, elderly couple who will take her in, as long as we pay them a sum each month."