The Button Box: Gripping historical romance from the Sunday Times Bestseller. Dilly Court

and trembling, Jane hesitated in the doorway. ‘He won’t die, will he?’

      ‘No, of course not. He’s drunk too much rum, but he’ll get over it. Now do as I say and then we’ll have supper.’

      Jane took one last look at her father’s inert figure before going into the bedroom and closing the door. Clara stepped in between Luke and Betsy, who were glaring at each other. ‘Help me get Pa into bed, Luke. And, Betsy, put the kettle on. Jane and I have had a long day and we’re chilled to the bone.’

      ‘I’m not your slave,’ Betsy grumbled, but she picked up the kettle and went out into the back yard where they drew their water from a communal pump.

      Luke hefted Alfred Carter over his shoulder. ‘Where do you want him?’

      Clara pointed to a truckle bed in the far corner of the room. ‘Over there.’ She crossed the floor and folded back the coverlet.

      Alfred groaned when Luke dumped him unceremoniously on the wooden bed, but he did not open his eyes.

      ‘Dead drunk,’ Luke said grimly. ‘He must have been pouring booze down his throat for days.’

      ‘I don’t know where he got the money.’ Clara covered her father with the patchwork quilt and tucked him in.

      ‘He’ll have put it on the slate and that will have added to his debts. I did what I could, Clara, but I’m not going to cough up sums like that simply to get your old man off the hook. He’s a millstone round your neck and you ought to walk away and leave him to it.’

      ‘Oh, but I couldn’t do that.’ Clara stared at him, horrified. ‘He can’t manage on his own. He never has any money because he gambles it away, and he wouldn’t eat properly.’

      ‘Then let the old devil starve. He’s a lost cause.’ Luke turned away from the bed where Alfred lay slack-mouthed and snoring loudly.

      Clara was prevented from answering by Betsy, who erupted into the kitchen stamping ice off her boots. ‘The pump is frozen solid. I had to scoop snow off the privy roof.’ She slammed the kettle down on the range. ‘That’s the last of the coal, Clara, and there’s nothing in the larder for supper. It’s all very well for you and Jane to pay for the old girl’s funeral and go gallivanting off on the train, but that money should have fed us for the month.’

      ‘It was Miss Silver’s money,’ Clara protested. She shot a sideways glance at Luke. ‘The will has to go to probate, but she left me everything. Giving her a proper send-off was the least I could do.’

      Luke took a handful of coins from his pocket and tossed them onto the table. ‘This will keep you girls going, but I meant what I said. If you stay here you’ll get a visit from Patches Bragg’s men. It was her gaming house where I found your pa, and you don’t want to owe Patches money. She takes her debts in the most painful ways imaginable, if you get my meaning.’

      ‘I understand,’ Clara said, wincing at the thought. She knew of Patches Bragg – everyone in Seven Dials and the surrounding area knew of the French woman who was a legend in the criminal underworld, and ran her gang with more brutality than any of the other gangland bosses, including the Skinner brothers. Scarred by smallpox, Amelie Bragg wore the once-fashionable patches to cover the worst of her blemishes, and it was these that had earned her the nickname. Clara had seen her on one occasion, and that was enough to convince her that Luke’s warning was timely.

      ‘You must move out of here,’ Luke insisted. ‘I can’t protect you if you stay. Leave your father to sort out his own problems.’

      ‘He’s right,’ Betsy said urgently. ‘I’ve heard what that woman does to people who can’t pay up, and I don’t want my face scarred like hers.’

      ‘Are you sure that Pa owes her money?’ Clara had to ask the question, but Luke’s grim expression was answer enough.

      ‘You’ve got the shop. You’ll be safe there as long as Patches doesn’t find out where you are, but you can’t take Alfred with you.’ Luke met Clara’s anxious gaze with a tight-lipped smile. ‘He’s brought it on himself. You don’t have to share his punishment.’

      ‘You’re right, Luke.’ Betsy thumped the kettle down on the table. ‘I’m going to pack a bag and you’ve got to take us to Drury Lane, Clara. I refuse to spend another night in this place.’

      Clara looked from one to the other. Luke’s jaw hardened and his mouth tightened into a grim line, and Betsy faced her with a determined toss of her head. But Clara was not going to be browbeaten into doing something she knew was wrong. No matter what their father did, he was still their flesh and blood. ‘No,’ she said firmly.

      ‘No?’ Luke stared at her, frowning. ‘What do you mean by that, Clara?’

      ‘Exactly what I said. I’m not abandoning Pa to the mercy of Patches Bragg.’

      ‘You’re crazy.’ Betsy flounced into the bedroom and slammed the door.

      Clara faced Luke with a defiant lift of her chin. ‘I want to speak to Patches, woman to woman.’

      ‘What?’ He stared at her as if she had spoken in a foreign tongue.

      ‘You heard me, Luke. I want to meet this woman and reason with her. I’ll offer to pay back what Pa owes bit by bit.’

      ‘She’ll slit your throat as soon as look at you, or she’ll set her roughs on you. Either way, you won’t come out of there with your pretty face as it is now. I won’t allow it.’

      ‘You can’t stop me. If you don’t tell me where to find her I’ll walk the length and breadth of Seven Dials until I come across someone who will.’

      ‘You’re out of your mind, girl. Be sensible, Clara. You don’t know what Patches is like.’

      ‘Maybe not, but she’s a woman like me. I’ll appeal to her better nature.’

      ‘Patches Bragg isn’t a woman – she’s a creature from hell and you are a simpleton. Don’t blame me if she cuts your throat – or worse.’

      ‘Then you’ll take me to her?’

      He took a deep breath. ‘In the morning, but tonight I want you to take your sisters to the shop and spend the night there.’

      ‘No. Not good enough. By morning Pa might be lying in a pool of blood and I’ll have that on my conscience for the rest of my life. I’m going now, Luke – with or without you.’

      It had stopped snowing, but the temperature had plummeted and the filthy streets were buried beneath a blanket of crisp white snow. The moon had emerged from behind the clouds and the world around them sparkled with frosty light, but Clara was oblivious to everything other than the need to find the woman who quite literally held Alfred Carter’s life in her blood-stained hands. Luke strode along with fierce intent, and she had to struggle through the deep snow in order to keep up with him, but she did not protest. If she hesitated she might lose courage.

      He came to a halt in front of the narrow alleyway that led into Angel Court. ‘This is where I have to leave you. But you can still change your mind and come home with me.’

      She shook her head. ‘No, I can’t. I’ve come this far and I must do what I set out to do or I’d never forgive myself.’

      ‘You are a stubborn woman, and I was a fool to bring you here.’ Luke glanced up and down the street, but few people had braved the freezing temperatures, and an eerie silence made their surroundings seem dreamlike and unreal. ‘There’s time to change your mind. I doubt if they’ll come for Carter tonight.’

      ‘That’s not what you said earlier.’

      ‘It wasn’t as cold as this then. Everyone has gone to ground, and that’s where we ought to be. Come on, girl. Be sensible, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you home?’

      ‘I’m