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“I will,” she promised. “You have my word.”

She took his hand and squeezed it once before stumbling to the door.

The smoke was no better outside than it was in the building. She coughed. The tightening in her lungs was worsening. Bracing herself on the wall of the neighboring building, she started toward the end of the alley. With every step she took, the firelight’s flickering glow increased—as did the heat. She swiped at the hair that had fallen out of her pins and across her forehead. How could she feel so hot when her chest was gripped by icy fear?

At last, she was close enough to the wharf to see the silhouettes of people moving back and forth.

“Help!” she called. “Can someone help me?” She paused, struggling for breath. She would need to get closer if she was to have any hope of anyone hearing her above the surrounding tumult.

One more step, then another.

“Hannah!”

She shook her head slightly. Had someone called her name? Surely she was hearing things.

“Hannah!”

It sounded like Samuel.

Pressing a gloved hand to her mouth, Hannah smothered a sob. Could he really be here? She forced her leaden feet forward again. “Samuel!” she cried. “Samuel! I’m in the alley!”

A shadow separated itself from the masses and began running toward her.

“Samuel!”

His arms came around her, and she pressed herself to his chest. His racing heart beat against her cheek, keeping time with her own as she clung to him.

“Thank heavens!” His voice broke, and he pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

At that moment, Hannah did not think she had ever belonged anywhere as much as she belonged in his arms. But she could not stay there. As much as she wished she could escape this inferno and have Samuel take her home, there was someone else who needed him more.

She pulled away. “I need your help,” she said.

His concerned eyes raked her face. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I am well. But there’s a boy . . .” She didn’t have time to explain. Taking Samuel’s hand, she pulled him into the alley. “We must hurry!”

She expected him to stop her, to tell her it was too dangerous, that she should return to her father’s carriage and leave the wharf immediately. It was the response every other gentleman of her acquaintance would have given. But Samuel simply tightened his grip on her fingers and increased his pace to match hers.

“Where’s the boy?” Samuel shouted to be heard above the crackle of flames and shifting of timber.

Hannah coughed and pointed toward the doorway that now glowed with an ominous orange light. “In there!” The fire had traveled farther along the length of the building and was now hungrily licking at the wall that separated the front of the warehouse from the room where Alfie lay trapped. “He’s trapped beneath a beam.”

Hannah should not be here. Samuel knew it as surely as he knew that he would not let go of her hand until he absolutely had to. He’d not experienced the kind of terror he’d gone through while searching for her in the flames, smoke, and ash since the HMS Swan had been attacked and Captain Lund had died. It had been half an hour of pure torture. Even now, with his fingers clasped around hers, fear for her safety pumped through his veins. Had he needed any proof of his feelings for her, this evening had given it to him. Her welfare had become more important to him than his own.

“We are running out of time!” she cried.

“Allow me to enter first,” he called. His throat hurt from calling for her for so long in the smoky air.

She slowed a fraction, and he took that as his signal. Tightening his grip on her hand, he crossed the same threshold he’d crossed only a fortnight ago, entering the pickpockets’ den with Hannah immediately behind him. He peered through the swirling smoke. Fire was already consuming the far wall. Another small blaze had begun on the end of the fallen staircase, the flames licking a crossbeam that had once supported the rickety structure. He could not see the hogsheads through the smoke, but if they were still there, and if they yet contained rum, they would detonate if the fire reached them.

He’s trapped beneath a beam. Hannah’s words echoed through his head. Was it that one? Straining to see through the poor light, he pressed forward. Who would he find? Not Charlie, surely. Hannah would hardly have called him a boy. But it was more than likely one of Charlie’s gang members. Hannah tugged Samuel’s hand, guiding him toward the burning staircase. The end with the largest flames crackled and popped. Moments later, a portion fell to the ground, sending sparks flying. Samuel’s tension ratcheted up another notch. They had no time to waste.

“Alfie!” Hannah released Samuel’s hand, sank to her hands and knees, and began crawling toward the beam. “Alfie! Can you hear me?”

Alfie! Samuel’s throat tightened even further. What was the boy doing here alone? Samuel dropped to all fours, crawling after Hannah with no care for the debris that surrounded him. How on earth had she found the lad in this chaos?

“Alfie!” Hannah had reached him and was shaking the boy’s shoulder.