“One final thing.” Jack strolled over to Rockley and crouched beside him. He reached into Rockley’s coat and pulled out the folio containing the documents. “All these? Forgeries. The real evidence is already in the government’s hands. Papers are going to be full of it tomorrow morning—your treason. I’m just sorry you won’t be around to see it.”

Rockley’s face turned even more chalky. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Look at me, Rockley,” Jack said. “I’m the last thing you’re ever going to see. Take the image of my face with you to Hell. I sent you there because of what you did to Edith. The moment you killed her, you killed yourself.”

Rockley gasped, shuddered, and then went still. His gaze became vacant. His chest stopped moving.

He was dead.

Slowly, Jack got to his feet. He stared down at Rockley’s lifeless body. The elegant nobleman sprawled in a pool of his own blood, his handsome face now waxy. Jack waited for the feeling of triumph. It didn’t come. All he felt was tired.

“Jack.” Eva took his hand, tugging him away. “The police will be coming.”

He turned from the body to look at Eva. The exhaustion wrapping around him disappeared. She was scratched, bloodied, beautiful. And alive.

All he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and never let go. But the coppers’ whistles cut through the air.

He grabbed the case of money, took her hand, and together they ran into the night.

*   *   *

The back room at Ockham’s public house was filled with odd and broken debris: tables missing legs, chairs whose backs had broken off, half a poster advertising Greywell’s beer. Currently, it also held all the members of Nemesis, some of whom looked just as damaged as the furniture. Too tired to sit, Eva leaned against a wall, while the men arranged themselves throughout the cluttered room, talking in low voices.

A note had been sent to Miss Jones and her family, telling them to meet Nemesis here, rather than at headquarters. With Rockley’s mysterious death all over the morning papers, it was the safer option.

Those papers were now spread across several listing tables. NOBLEMAN’S TREACHERY! LORD ROCKLEY MEETS A BAD END AS BETRAYAL IS JUSTLY REWARDED.

Sunlight trickled through a high window as Harriet finished bandaging Jack’s back. Despite the fact that his wounds were more severe than Eva’s, he’d insisted that Eva be treated first. The cut at her throat wasn’t very deep and wanted only some cleaning and a salve. Her hand, however, bore a deep puncture, and was swaddled in bandages. It would be a few weeks before she’d have full use of her hand. But this was all inconsequential compared to the damage Jack had taken.

He sat on one of the backless chairs while Harriet made her last adjustments to his dressings. Gauze crisscrossed over his bare chest. He was bruised, battle weary—a warrior.

Jack had fought for her, been willing to do anything to keep her safe. Warmth centered in her chest and spread outward.

He caught her looking at him, but he didn’t smile. Just stared right back. She wanted to press her lips to his bandages. Feel the thrum of his pulse beneath her hand, and swallow his breath. The seconds kept creeping forward, toward a time when she’d no longer know the texture of his skin or hear the rough rumble of his voice. She had to gather close what she could while she still had time.

“If you rest and not push yourself overly hard,” Harriet cautioned him, “you’ll be healed within a few weeks.”

Jack grunted softly. “Don’t know what you mean by rest.”

“Familiarize yourself with the term.” Harriet patted him on his shoulder, missing the sharp glance Lazarus aimed at her.

Jack stood and was slipping his arms into the sleeves of his shirt when Miss Jones and her parents entered. The young woman and her mother took one look at a partially dressed Jack before they immediately turned their gazes to the floor.

“Perhaps we ought to come back a little later,” Mr. Jones suggested, red faced.

“Be done in a trice.” Jack quickly did up the buttons of his shirt, though his face tightened in pain from the effort. “There. Presentable as a sermon.”

It was still scandalous for a man to talk to anyone without a jacket, let alone tucking in his shirt, but they’d long moved past social niceties by this point.

“You’ve read the papers,” Eva said to Mr. Jones.

“So we have,” he answered, somber. “A very bad business.”

“Given the evidence of Lord Rockley’s treason,” Simon noted as he came forward, “there isn’t going to be much of an investigation into his death. Imagine you’re rather shocked by it all.”

“Glad, more like,” Miss Jones said with surprising vehemence. “But Lord Rockley’s fatality … did any of you…?” She glanced at Jack.

Before he could speak, Eva said, “Nemesis always protects its clients, even after the job is done. The less you know of the circumstances surrounding his demise, the better.”

“So, it’s all over, then?” Mrs. Jones asked. She gripped her daughter’s shoulder. “My girl is safe?”

“From future threats by Lord Rockley, yes,” Eva said. Unfortunately, a woman’s reputation was a fragile thing, easily broken and difficult to repair. Everyone in the room knew this, acknowledging it with a brief silence.

“You may find it easier to begin again in a new city,” Marco suggested gently.

“I’ve a brother in Wolverhampton,” Mr. Jones said. “He’s been after me to join his business there for years. Perhaps now is the time to take him up on the offer.”

“We’ve many contacts in Gloucestershire,” Simon added. “If you ever have need, they can assist you.”

Mrs. Jones said earnestly, “I cannot find sufficient words to thank all of you for what you’ve done for us.”

“Wasn’t no more than you deserved,” Jack said. “Than any wronged woman deserves.”

Eva handed Miss Jones the case. “And here’s something that might make the transition into your new life a bit easier.”

With a puzzled frown, the young woman set the case on a table and opened it. She gasped. Her mother took one look at the contents and tottered over to a chair, with her husband fanning her using his hat.

Miss Jones stammered, “But … that’s … it’s…”

“Enough to start over,” Jack said.

Coldness seeped through Eva. “One more thing.” She gave Miss Jones an envelope. As the girl examined the papers inside, Eva explained, “A deed to a country estate. It’s yours now, to keep or to sell, as you see fit.”

For a moment, Miss Jones could not speak. Holding the deed, her head bowed in thought, she walked the length of the room then back again. “I know precisely what to do with it.” She glanced at her parents. “I won’t be going to Wolverhampton.”

Mr. and Mrs. Jones exclaimed in surprise, but Eva, Jack, and the other Nemesis operatives kept quiet, waiting.

“I aim to take possession of this estate,” the young woman continued. “With the money you’ve given me, I’ll start a school—a refuge, for girls who’ve been abused. I can help them gain new lives, as you’ve given me mine.”

“Are you certain, my dear?” her mother asked.

“I am,” came the confident answer. “This is what I’ve always truly wanted to do.”

“An excellent idea,” Marco said, and the sentiment was echoed by everyone in the room. This, Eva felt, was Nemesis’s true purpose—that no one person or organization should be responsible for addressing wrongdoing, but that everyone labored together for justice. Eva’s own parents could not fault her for wanting this.

Miss Jones suddenly looked abashed, and glanced shyly at Jack. “Mr. Dalton, if you wouldn’t mind … I’d like to name the school after your sister. But … I’m sorry, I can’t remember her name.”

“Edith,” he said. “Edith Dalton.”

“The Edith Dalton Home for Girls,” Miss Jones said, trying out the name. “Would that be all right?”

Eva’s chest tightened at the look of pure, humble wonderment on Jack’s face.

“I’d…” He cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse when he spoke. “That’d be an honor. A right honor. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Miss Jones gazed around the room, looking at each of the Nemesis agents in turn. The youthful fear had left her face, replaced by confidence and purpose. “All of you.”

“What of payment?” Mrs. Jones asked. “Surely you’ll want compensation.”

“We’ve taken a share from Rockley’s money,” Simon answered. “For operating expenses. But we won’t accept any from you.”

The members of the Jones family made sounds of protest, but no one would be swayed. At last, seeing that this was an argument he couldn’t win, Miss Jones’s father said to her, “Come, my dear. It’s time for us to take our first steps in our new lives.” Trepidation edged his voice, and Miss Jones looked daunted by the prospect of the unknown that lay ahead of her, but she attempted a brave smile.

Before the Joneses left, there were handshakes all around, and Mrs. Jones wept delicately into a handkerchief, murmuring over and over her gratitude. And then they were gone. But a minute hadn’t passed before Ockham himself came into the back room, bearing a little muslin-wrapped parcel.

“I was to give you this,” he said, handing it to Eva.

She opened the parcel, revealing a few one-pound notes. Judging by their crumpled appearance, they’d come from Miss Jones’s own pocketbook. A scrap of paper read, For additional operating expenses.

After a moment, Simon handed each member of Nemesis a banknote. Including one to Jack.

“The hell is this for?” Jack demanded.

“Everyone on the team is paid equally.” Simon met his gaze levelly. “That includes you.”