A minute passed . . . two. . . . The only sound was their labored breathing. They watched the way they’d come, ready to flee at the first sign of any movement.
But no one came. Nobody was following them. They’d escaped.
“Right, I’ll be off then,” Daisy said gruffly when they’d caught their breath. “Good luck to you.”
But Abby couldn’t let her go like that. “Where will you go? Do you have family in London?”
“Nah, I’m a foundling.” She shrugged. “But don’t worry; I’ll find somewhere.” She went to push past them but Abby caught her by the sleeve.
“It’s my fault you’re in this situation—”
“Nah, I was going to leave anyway.” Daisy pulled her arm out of Abby’s grip.
“Abby!” Jane turned pleading eyes on her sister, but Abby didn’t need any prompting. If she could take a painted prostitute under her wing, she certainly wasn’t going to let this small heroine stump gallantly off into the night, alone and friendless. And bruised.
She took Daisy’s hand in a firm grip. “You’re coming with us, Daisy, for tonight at least. No, don’t argue. After all you’ve done for us there’s no way in the world I’m going to let you wander off in the dark with nowhere to go. Now come along; let’s get Jane and Damaris into the warmth.”
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