Gideon let out a long sigh and put his face in his hands as he stepped out of the Devil’s basement, suddenly desperate for air. He had wasted so much time. It would be the full four days by the time he returned home, praying desperately that his mother still lived.

Sinking down onto his haunches, his back against the cold stone wall of the church, Gideon tried not to let fear rattle at him. He had someone, at least, although it was not the doctor he had promised his sister. Yet, Doctor Thomas seemed to have faith that this young lady, this scrap of a thing, would bring his mother just as much aid as he himself would, had he been able to come.

A hint of shame climbed up his spine, sending heat into his face. Josephine had asked, with a small tilt of her head, whether or not he had considered all these sick people here somehow less than his own mother, and his immediate answer had wanted to be yes. It was not because of his status, he told himself, but a part of him knew that it was almost ingrained within him – that he, being a baron, was worth more than those who worked in the fields and begged on the streets. It was something he was struggling to battle against, seeing that this devastating illness touched them all, regardless of class. Yes, he loved his mother desperately, but how many other mothers lay struggling on the floor of the Devil’s basement? It was not right for him to demand that the doctor come with him, simply to tend to one patient when it was so very evident that his skills were required here.

Taking his face from his hands, Gideon drew in a steadying breath, feeling almost weak with fear. He wanted to leave immediately but was now forced to wait again, wait until the doctor had prepared his medicines for Josephine to take. The girl had, at least, looked at him with confidence, her green eyes bright with assurance. That, at least, gave him a little hope that she would know what to do when it came to his mother.

“Lord Dunstable?”

He looked up and saw Josephine standing in the doorway of the church, a cotton bag twisted in her hand.

“Miss.....” He realized he had not even asked her name, a little unsure what a gentleman ought to refer to a young woman such as she.

“Miss Noe,” she replied, firmly. “But I would prefer Josephine, my lord. At times like this, I think such things as the use of correct titles and the like a little.... superfluous.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow, rather astonished to hear her speak in such an ostentatious manner.

“You do not remember me, do you?” she asked, her expression a little forlorn. “I thought.....”

“Remember you?” Gideon asked, a little surprised. “No, I’m afraid I do not. Are you suggesting we have met prior to this?”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes now somewhat sad. “We have, my lord,” she replied, carefully. “But I should not expect you to remember – although you did express your surprise at my speaking back then also.”

“I – I did?” Gideon asked, struggling to remember. “I must apologize, Miss Noe, for forgetting our first meeting. Things have been rather difficult of late.”

Her smile was sympathetic, bringing him a sense of relief. “I understand, my lord. And I don’t mind repeating myself. I used to work as one of the maids in a great house near my home. The housekeeper was very kind to me and taught me a good deal. I think she wanted me to be a lady’s maid one day.”

Something began to niggle at his mind.

“Not that the position lasted all that long,” she continued, her eyes drifting away from his. “When my parents became ill I was forced to give it up entirely.”

“And they have passed away,” he said, slowly, a memory beginning to come back to him. “You came to London in search of work and then could not find any.”

Her eyes flickered with grief. “Yes, that’s right. Do you remember me now?”

He nodded slowly, amazed to see that this young lady from the streets had now subsequently transformed herself despite the horrendous situation she had been working in. Her hair was tied neatly back from her face, instead of blowing across her face. Her eyes were bright, her expression resolute, instead of the fear and terror that had splashed across her features when he had first spoken to her. Her dress and shawl did not have holes or tears, and her feet were no longer bare. It was little wonder he had not recognized her.

“You appear in much better circumstances now,” he said, before flushing as he realized what he had suggested.

To his surprise, Josephine laughed, albeit rather sadly. “Indeed. The Devil’s basement is better than the cold London streets, is it not?”

A slight frown caught his brow. “I gave you money, did I not?”

Her green eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes you did, my lord. You were very kind to me.”

“Then, may I ask,” Gideon continued, a trifle confused, “why you are working here, in the Devil’s basement? I would have thought that, with the money I gave you, you would have been able to find a place of your own. There was more than enough for you –”

She held up one hand, stemming the flow of words from his lips. “You have been inside the Devil’s basement, my lord. How can you ask me such a thing?”

Staring at her for a moment, Gideon felt his shame flare. “You have a good heart, Miss Josephine,” he muttered, realizing that the girl had given up the future she could have had with the money he had given her, simply to come here and help those who were in desperate need.

Josephine looked back at him steadily, a faint hint of disappointment in her eyes. “My lord, I could not turn my back on these people. I have lost loved ones to the fever and I wanted to do what I could to help. That’s why I am here.”

He nodded, looking away from her. “I see.”

“I can help your mother,” she said, firmly, aware that he still was a little unsure as to how she might be able to help. “I have learned all I can from Doctor Thomas.”

“And how many people have recovered?” he asked, desperation beginning to fill him. “How many have you seen manage to overcome this dreadful illness?” He searched her face, seeing her lips thin for a moment, evidence of just how much she hated the disease.

“Many have died,” she admitted, quietly. “But many have lived as well. The young and the aged seem to be taken the most often – but you must recall, my lord, that these people live in squalor compared to you. They are often weak and ill already.”

This did not give him a great amount of hope but, seeing that he had very little choice other than to agree, he nodded and led her towards the carriage he had managed to hire. “Then it seems I must put all of my hope in you, Miss Josephine,” he murmured, opening the door and gesturing for her to sit inside. “We will make our way at once and I do not expect to stop particularly often.”

He made to close the door, only for her to grasp his hand for a moment. Heat shot up his arm and he stepped back, looking at her in confusion.

“Where is your driver, my lord?” she asked, a little puzzled.

Clearing his throat, Gideon shrugged. “I have no driver. Not one person could be spared from the estate. I will do it myself.”

A slight rise of her eyebrows told him that she was rather astonished by this but, to his very great relief, she said not another word, allowing him to close the door. Doing so at once, he quickly attempted to climb up into the driver’s seat, all the more embarrassed that it took him more than one attempt before he was seated carefully in the driver’s seat. Picking up the reins, he held them carefully in his hands and flicked them once, then twice.

The horses did not move.

Frustrated, Gideon shook the reins again but still, the animals remained exactly where they were.

“Might you need some help, my lord?”

Closing his eyes, Gideon felt his face heat. “No, indeed, Miss Josephine,” he replied, firmly. “I am quite capable, I assure you.”

A quiet laugh caught his ears and his face burned all the hotter. Trying to push himself into action, he flicked the reins again, just as he would do if he were riding. It was not something he was used to, driving either a carriage or a phaeton, even though so many gentlemen possessed such a thing. He had never had the opportunity to drive a phaeton, since he had been overseas, and as such had very little experience in such matters.

“Might I try?”

He looked over his shoulder to see Miss Josephine standing on the pavement, her hands on her hips and her face tipped up to his.

“I said I can manage, Miss Josephine,” Gideon replied, firmly. “Do go back inside.”

She did not move. “You have not driven a carriage before, I think.”

“Please,” he repeated, growing steadily angrier. “If you do not get in then I cannot drive the horses forward.”

A slight lilt in her voice told him she was laughing at him. His frustration blew into anger, his expression furious as he turned his sharp eyes onto her. This was no laughing matter. He was trying to get back to his mother as quickly as possible and her refusal to climb back into the carriage was only making things all the more difficult.

“Now, see here!” he exclaimed, climbing down from his driver’s seat with very little dignity or grace. “I am in a very great hurry and if you cannot see that, then I –”

“Oh, but I can see that, your grace,” Miss Josephine interrupted, putting one hand on his arm. The simple touch seemed to take all of his anger away in a moment as Gideon felt it drain out of him and spread across the ground beneath his feet. “And, for what it is worth, I am trying to help.”

Closing his eyes, Gideon let the last of his irritation blow away. “What is it you wish to do, Miss Josephine?”

There was a short silence. Gideon opened his eyes and looked back at her, seeing her green eyes warm as her smile spread gently. “I will drive,” she replied, with a good deal of nonchalance. “After all, it is something I am well used to and I can assure you that, with your direction, we will arrive back at your estate very soon.”

His mouth fell open. “Drive?”

She shrugged. “Why ever not?”

The embarrassment of the situation as it currently stood began to seep into his bones. “But you are –”

“A woman,” she interrupted, irritably. “Yes, I am aware of that and, as you may well have noticed, my lord, quite capable. I can help your mother and I can drive your carriage. Now, are you going to allow me to do so or not?”

Gideon wanted to refuse at once, the shame of being driven through London by a woman whilst he sat inside screaming at his mind – but then the memory of his sister, white-faced as she begged him to go in search of help – began to tear at him. “You will freeze,” he muttered, passing one hand over his eyes as any attempt to protest began to fall away. “You only have your shawl and –”

“Then may I have your coat?”

Blinking furiously, Gideon tried to answer but found the words dying in his throat. This lady was unlike any other he had met before, her lack of propriety breath-taking and yet refreshing in equal measure.

“May I?” she asked again, a trifle more gently. “It is very cold and if we are to make good time, I should not like to have to stop simply to warm up my frozen fingers – although I am quite used to those, I’m afraid.”

Somehow, Gideon found himself shrugging out of his jacket and handing it to her, not quite sure what he was doing or why. Miss Josephine took it from him with a glad smile, leaving him standing in just his shirt and waistcoat.

“You’d best get into the carriage, my lord,” Miss Josephine murmured, her small frame now wrapped in his coat, which was much too big for her. “Do excuse me.”

As he stood there, still staring at her, she climbed deftly up into the driver’s seat and took up the reins.

“My lord?”

Stammering for a moment, Gideon quickly gave her some directions and then clambered inside, sitting back against the velvet seat as he pulled the door closed. For a moment, he thought that Miss Josephine too would fail to have the horses moving but, almost as soon as he was comfortably seated, the crack of the reins was heard and the carriage immediately began to rumble away.

Closing his eyes, Gideon pushed away the last of his embarrassment and tried to concentrate on the fact that he would at least be returning to his estate with someone to help. He was still not quite sure what Miss Josephine could do but he had to hope that she had gleaned a good deal of knowledge from working with Doctor Thomas. He knew full well that this fever had already claimed a good many lives, both from the wealthy and from the poor. All he could do was pray that his mother would be spared and that Miss Josephine’s ministrations would be effective. He had no other hope than her.