“Henry nodded. “May I ask you a question?”“Certainly, Your Grace.”He pointed at Jack. “Is he the Artful Dodger?”Mr. Dickens bent low. “I write fiction, Your Grace. The characters inmy books do not really exist, but if they did”—he winked—“I do believehe would be the Artful Dodger.”“I knew it!”“And do you see that gentleman over there?”“Lord Claybourne?”Dickens nodded. “He would be Oliver.”“And what about Miss Frannie?”“She is every sweet girl who appears in the story.”

“Claybourne grabbed his arm, stopping his forward movement. “Do we have a plan?”“Get Emma out alive and I don’t care who the hell dies in the bloody process.” Breaking free of the hold, Swindler began running toward the gate.“I do hope he’s not including us in the ‘who the hell dies’ arena,” he heard Greystone mutter.“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you,” Dodger responded. “I do believe the man’s in love.”

“Olivia dared not ask, but she had to know. It seemed unlikely her husband could have made a worse choice than Jack Dodger, but if he was her husband’s first who would serve as his second? The devil himself? “Who is appointed as my son’s guardian in that will?”

“Dodger knelt beside Sterling. “Greystone, you have to understand we come from the streets. When Frannie was a young girl, we weren’t able to stop someone from hurting her very badly. The four of us swore an oath that we’d die before we let anyone harm her again. It’s a vow we will keep.”Sterling lay where he was long after Dodger left. He had been correct about one thing: they did love her.”

“How did you get in here?” Sterling asked, wishing his words didn’t sound quite so slurred. He was having more difficulty than usual bringing his shadowed world into focus. Damnation, why hadn’t he lit more lamps or poured himself fewer snifters of brandy?“Not important,” Jack Dodger said. “What is important is for you to realize that you can do nothing to keep us out if we decide we want in.”

“And what about you, Frannie? he wanted to ask. Who will save you?”

“What are you doing?" she asked.Grimacing, he considered returning his mouth to hers and kissing her until she forgot the question and his strange behavior, but he had to know the truth. Dammit, he had to know. "Amelia told me that her toes curl when Houston kisses her. I was just trying to see if your toes curl when I kiss you." She turned a lovely shade of rose and rolled her shoulders toward her chin. "My whole body curls when you kiss me." "Your whole body?" She nodded quickly."Every inch." "Well, hell," he said as he settled his mouth greedily over hers with plans to keep her body tightly curled for the remainder of the night.-Dallas and Dee”