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will see to it that they are
delivered to the authorities who will help them.”
    She moved to the edge of the seat, not
comfortable with the arrangement.
    “You are not going to jump out of
a moving carriage. There is not enough room at Urania Cottage to
take all these lost women,” he said, putting a hand on her knee.
“They are safe, and they will be provided for. For the moment, at
least, this is the best we can do.”
    His hand was warm, and Sophy felt
flustered by his touch. She sank back against the seat, and he
removed his hand.
    “Now,” he said, a note of command
returning to his voice. “You can explain what you were doing
there.”
    Twice now, her guide had
put Sophy in the path of this man. She wondered why. “You might
explain what you were doing there.”
    “That’s none of your concern. I’m the
one who is asking..”
    “ Actually, I was
following—” She stopped, afraid that if she talked about ghosts,
his next stop would be at an asylum.
    “You were following . . .
?”
    “A memory.” Sophy touched her forehead
like she was still in pain. “I woke up with this place in my head,
and I knew I had to go there. Perhaps I’ve visited this tavern
before. I had to come here. The rest—going to that woman’s aid—was
just the reaction to the villainy I came upon.”
    “So you woke up,” he said
incredulously, “but you couldn’t wait for morning to come
here?”
    “I was afraid of forgetting. I thought
the place might hold a key to my past.”
    He ran a hand over his chin. “Would
you like me to have my driver take us back to the tavern? The
constable was taking charge of the proprietor, to ask a question or
two, but there might be someone else in there who will recognize
you.”
    “No,” she said sharply. “Not tonight,
at least. This headache, you know.”
    Sophy forced herself not to wither
under his hard gaze. She was afraid he would question her further,
force her to tell the truth.
    “And how are the wounds on your head?
The dressing is gone, I see.”
    Taking her chin he tilted her head to
look at her injuries in the dim light coming in from the
outside.
    She sat, dumbfounded at her response.
Her skin seemed to catch fire at the touch of his fingers, her
stomach twisting in an unfamiliar but not unpleasant way.
Recovering, she leaned back out of his reach and looked
away.
    Silence filled the
carriage.
    “Would you mind taking me back to
Urania Cottage?” she asked, daring to glance at him. He was
studying her too intensely for comfort.
    “That is precisely where my driver is
going,” he answered. “Tell me, other than the dream tonight of the
Broken Oar Tavern, have you been remembering anything more of your
past?”
    She shook her head. “It’s very
frustrating, but no.”
    “I hope you were not offended that I
left you some money.”
    “Oh, I meant to thank you,” she said
quickly. “Mrs. Tibbs showed what you had left for me. You are very
generous, Captain.”
    “You do understand that you cannot
stay at the Cottage permanently.”
    Sophy nodded. “I’m hoping to delay
them putting me out on the street. I could not have simply sprung
to life from dust and fog and river. There must be people who know
me. Someplace I must have called home. But no matter how hard I
think, I can recall only the river and what happened after coming
out of it. It is very frustrating not to be able to remember what
my life was before that.”
    She had been reminded by
Mrs. Tibbs that she was dressed in the tattered clothing of a man
when brought to Urania Cottage. The inference to be drawn
from that was
horrifying. The empty hole of her recent past was as murky as what
might become of her in the very near future.
    “You remembered how to get to
Hammersmith tonight. That is a hopeful sign, at least. Perhaps you
are from that village.”
    Sophy met his gaze. She wished she
could tell him the truth. She recognized nothing of the wet,
dilapidated village. She could just as easily be from