"Get the hell away from her, you bleeding cockroach!" Sweeney yelled as he pushed the door open. Razor warm in his palm, ready to attack if he had to.

Taking advantage of the sudden shock that seized the current occupants of the cabin upon Sweeney's barging in, the barber took in the scene before him. Nellie was still in bed, she'd dressed and applied some rouge to her lips and cheeks not to look so dead, but otherwise she seemed to be just as he left her. That monster hadn't harmed her.

He was also relieved Mr. Winslow seemed to be at a respectable distance, in the other corner of the room where they'd placed their travel bags. He raised an eyebrow at that, but assumed he was probably retrieving something she asked him to, as she seemed keen on playing the bedridden damsel.

"I assure you, Mr. Payne, you mustn't worry, for I have no ill intentions towards the lovely lady. I was merely inquiring about her condition, after seeing her so feeble last night. I've advised her, and I'm sure you will be in agreement, that resting is of uttermost importance for a prompt recovery. Hence, I will be on my way to ensure that she does" he said, his rhetoric as pompous as that of the late Judge. Sweeney realised he was growing to hate him just as much. But before making his much-anticipated leave, he turned to Nellie, whose expression Sweeney found hard to read. She was hiding something. "This said, I hope this dress is to your liking. And again, do not worry about anything, my dear, all unfortunate misunderstandings have been cleared up. Just focus on improving your condition. Good day."

He took a quick glance at Sweeney's razor in his hand, giving him a stupid grin before he finally made to leave. The barber had to exert a titanic willpower not to follow him and slit the throat of that cheeky bastard. But that would be a foolish thing to do in the current situation, so he begrudgingly reigned his impulses to murder in.

"Are you daft, woman? Why on earth were you alone with him!? Have you no shame? No sense of propriety? Nor common sense?" he roared, his pent-up fury that had not found relief by making Harold's blood spill fully directed at Eleanor. She, however, did not react like he thought she would, with her own fury rising to match his. It was as if his extreme reaction was not at all unexpected, nor even outrageous for she was used to it, and the realization made him calm down somewhat. His old ways no longer phased her, but he was committed to be better.

"I am quite sure that man tried to drug you last night, Eleanor. You said you didn't drink but the gin he offered you. And while you assured me you took only a couple of sips, he claimed you drank almost the whole bottle to explain the effect it had on you…" his tone was softer now but it retained a bitter edge at the audacity of the man. He didn't know he was messing with. He tried to harm his Eleanor and Sweeney would harm him in return, sooner or later.

"I know" she spoke confidently, which had the barber's eyes popping out. "I'm not an eight-year-old lassie tasting alcohol for the first time. I know how I handle my liqueur and how it's supposed to taste. I've tried many qualities of gin over the years and none tasted soapy and salty. He must have put something in there."

"Then why were you alone with him? He was directly responsible for your outlandish behaviour and his intentions behind it were without a doubt nefarious, and here you are, entertaining him, laughing at his flattery while he regales you with dresses and fancy meals as if he could court you when you are married to me!" He was angry, but above all he was confounded by her approach.

"It's not what you are thinking, Sweeney. He came to see how I was faring. And… he also told me I should not worry about the speaking to the captain, that it has been taken care of, for he vouched for my innocence before him. Strange, innit?"

Yes, it was strange, he had to admit, but Sweeney had an inkling why he went to those lengths to help her out. "He wants to shag you badly, that disgusting piece of dirt."

She smiled coyly at that, part of her liking how blatant his jealousy was. "Perhaps that's part of it, yeah… but I'm thinking it might be something bigger. Think about it, love, a man like him, why would do all this much just to shag a woman like me? There has to be something else..." Sweeney raised an eyebrow and knowing she had awoken his curiosity, she readied herself to drop the bomb. "I think he is involved in Mr. Coone's death."

"He what?" Mr. Winslow may be a piece of dirt who took advantage of women, but why would a man like him soil his hands by murdering a lowly bastard who apparently posed no threat to him?

"Well, I obviously cannot be sure, but I remember him arguing with Mr. Coone yesterday around lunchtime, rather ardently I may add. I know I said Mr. Coone had no enemies but in reality, how can we be sure? The two could be fiends for all we know. I mean, I know Mr. Winslow has investments in some coal mines in Wales… just where Mr. Coone happened to work. That's a bit coincidental…" It still proved nothing, it were just elucubrations on her part, but she was convinced she was getting somewhere. "This brings us to last night… On the corridor leading up to the bathroom where I learnt Mr. Coone was murdered, there were only me, his devoted Mary Sanderson who would never harm him, and Harold Winslow with his cronies. Everyone else returned to the party shortly after they saw what the ruckus was all about, me kicking Mr. Coone in the crotch, that was. So, I'm thinking Mr. Winslow might have drugged me so I couldn't see and definitely not remember what happened, how he killed him."

Sweeney was silent when she finished. It was definitely a series of coincidences worth taking a look at, but after seeing how that rich bleeder looked at the baker, Sweeney had a hard time believing he'd drug her just so she didn't see him committing a crime. Especially not after learning what befell the other woman. She seemed unaware of it and he chose to enlighten her. "There was another body… a woman. Drugged too, and later violently raped, which led to her death at dawn. I do believe he had those intentions with you and I…"

"Mary Sanderson!" she cut him off, thwarting his chance to let her know how relieved he was that she was unharmed. It frustrated him, for it wasn't every day that he felt bold enough to somewhat open his heart to her, to let her know that he did treasure her. But above all, he was once again dumbfounded.

"Yes, it must be Mary Sanderson, the poor dear" she went on, not waiting for him to confirm nor deny the identity of the murdered woman. Frankly, he did not know. "I braved the headache and ventured out for lunch today because I wanted to have a chat with her. Do some diggings, you know? But she was nowhere to be seen, so I asked around, and no one has seen her since before Mr. Coone's body was found. I just assumed she was so devastated she was all cooped up in her cabin, moping round, and all that. But this just makes so much sense! That she was drugged too and while they were at it, they took some advantage of her since she could not oppose! But that mustn't have been the main goal, no. Rich men don't resort to those methods to bed women like us. It must have been done with the intent of keeping her oblivious to their shenanigans"

Confounded, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, Sweeney realised he was nowhere close to understanding her way of thinking. That she seemed to care more about solving that stupid murder mystery, than the fact that she'd been in great danger the night before. "It could have been you, Eleanor. You and our baby, robbed of your lives, of your future, only for a moment of mad lust."

Nellie gulped, clearly acknowledging his point but it was just as clear she did not want to dwell on it, on the what ifs. She was scared but she didn't want to be. Sensing this, Sweeney sat on the bed with her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She basked in his touch if only for a second, because seemingly out of nowhere she peeled off the covers and stood up, walking over to the mirror to put some distance between them. She busied herself by tousling her hair, everything to avoid his concerned gaze. Otherwise, she was sure she would cry.

"But it wasn't us and there is no use to cry about what could have been. Not when there's a murder to solve! And Mary Sanderson was a cow, anyway. Awful nasty to me, she was, because she thought I was stealing Mr. Coone's affections" she tried to sound cheery and carefree. Sweeney would have believed it to be genuine did he know not her fairly well by now. "In any case, the pieces are coming together but we still need some evidence to prove he did it. Not to go to the police or anything, of course not, just to keep milking the man. A little blackmailing, if you will."

"No, Eleanor. This is too dangerous, that man is dangerous. I won't let you get involved in any of this" he warned her, his voice firm. She scoffed.

"I'm not asking for permission, Sweeney" she retorted just as firmly. Aware that this could lead to fight she at least did not want at this point, she decided to deploy a different arsenal, one that hardly ever failed her. Certainly not with her late husband. She grinned teasingly as she walked back towards him with an accentuated swing to her hips. Without a warning, she sat on his lap, winding her arms around his neck. Nellie allowed herself to inhale his manly scent, to get lost into those obsidian orbs darkening even further as his lust became apparent, but she could not afford to get carried away. No matter how intensely she desired him.

"Think about it, love. The man is filthy rich, if we blackmail him, that will give us a good head start in the States. And it's not just money we could get from him. A fancy suit, maybe. He might be building a hotel complex in a town a bit south from New York. Atlantic City is called, I think."

"We agreed we'd go to Boston" he pointed out, as he tried and failed to prevent the tightening in his trousers. The weight of her luscious behind atop his clothed member was poisoning his mind, and he had the feeling that was just what she intended.

Yet her own rising arousal took a backseat as he mentioned Boston. She never agreed to go to Boston, it was perhaps the only place in America she was sure she did not want to settle in. But she couldn't tell him why, so all she could do was convince him that Atlantic City was a better option. Or literally anywhere but Boston.

"But Boston is full of rancid brits, darling, not much better than that great black pit of malady we call London. Atlantic City is a growing urb. Just imagine, living in a hotel, like the posh lads we read about in the papers. And if not Atlantic City, we could go somewhere else… with warm weather. California seems rather nice. A mansion by the sea, maybe. With parquet floorings and a lovely garden for our child to play…"

She had a dreamy look about her that had Sweeney staring in awe. Unlike in London, where her incessant talking about the future was akin to a pesky fly that attempted to distract him from his goals, he now listened with rapture. Imagining the scenarios she was describing with her and their child, living peacefully. The so-called light on the end of the tunnel. But for that, they must go to Boston, that was non-negotiable.

Before he could reinstate his intention of going to Boston, at least for the first months, she spoke again. "But that costs money, love… more money than we have, more money than we'll make even if we work our arses off as soon as we disembark. Yet Harold has plenty, was born with it… a bit unfair, don't you think? We could get a piece of that hefty cake, as long as we play our cards right. Charge him a pretty penny to keep his secret under wraps. Even if a man like him is unlikely to face the real consequences for his acts, reputation is everything in the business world. He would give us anything we wanted… if just to avoid the bad press."

He hesitated, because he was having a hard time antagonising her. How could he, when she was wriggling her round bottom against his straining hardness. He tried to think rationally—which meant, not with his cock—but that was proving to be a challenge. What was the harm in letting her investigate a bit? he began to wonder. She clearly fancied herself quite the sleuth, but her theory had several loose ends and was based on mere assumptions, such as the identity of the woman who died. It was unlikely she found some damning evidence to prove Mr. Winslow was behind Mr. Coone's murder because he probably wasn't, he was just another rich rapist who wanted a taste of his irresistible wife.

His wife. When did he begin thinking of her as his wife? It was only Lucy holding that title in his mind until not long ago, even after he asked Eleanor to marry him. And while that wedding never took place for she got cold feet in the end, he still considered her not just his partner and the mother of his unborn child now. She was his wife. And he wanted her to be happy, but also to be safe.

He knew this sudden interest was born out of boredom. For a woman used to working strenuously, this sudden quiet with only socialising as a way to kill some time must be unbearable. The potential of solving this crime and use her discoveries to better their position was bringing excitement to her life, as well as likely a distraction from their relationship woes, a way to cope with all the changes in her life—what she'd left behind for this new daunting future full of uncertainties with him. So perhaps… she could keep investigating a bit if she wanted to, he supposed.

Yet there was a great danger looming around… Mr. Winslow and his obsessive interest in her. She was a clever woman, not a naïve creature like Lucy was by any means. Eleanor was more than a match for such craft but he could not afford to repeat the mistake of underestimating a man with enough money to buy off the whole world. The mistake that almost cost him his life and for the longest of times, he thought would condemn him to eternal misery. Nellie gave him a reason to live and he would not lose her to him. "Promise me, Nell, that you won't be alone with Mr. Winslow. That man is dangerous, he wants you and he won't stop at anything to shag you."

She rolled her eyes, but her overall playfulness remained. She was somewhat touched he had her in such high regard to think that a man like Mr. Winslow could lose his mind for her. It wasn't like she didn't know she was attractive to him, that she did, but he wouldn't work that hard to get her. If he really wanted a shag, he would offer her a bag with some coins and move to another when she refused. She wasn't worth more. "Told ya, dear, he isn't interested in me that way. Not that he would say no if he was offered, but he wouldn't waste his precious drugs just to shag me."

"A man who wasn't interested in you wouldn't have dinner with you in saloon class, nor would he give you gifts in the form of dresses. And definitely, not intercede for you before the captain to avoid you some discomfort" he said calmly, succeeding to keep his brewing jealousy under control, much to his surprise. "Nor would he look at you the way he does… You have no idea how fetching you are, Nellie." His breath was hot on her neck, making it hard to breathe but it was his words which were having the biggest of effects on her. And there it was again, that look of wonder in her eyes that had Sweeney's heart racing in his chest.

She shook her head, unwilling to fall for his blandishments. She knew the truth. "He has taken a liking to me, that is true, but it's mostly platonic. Trust me, dear, I know what I'm saying. I… know how men… work. He keeps saying I remind him of his daughter, they are somewhat estranged, dunno why. And it's her old dresses he is giving me, rich little brat is bored of them and he was bringing them to America to give to a niece but he gifted me a couple. See, dear? There's nothing for you to worry about on that front. He isn't really interested that way." He gave her a look of disbelief, which prompted her to keep speaking.

Eleanor paused for a second, for her next words were more difficult to utter. Baring herself to him in the slightest always was. "I know I'm not exactly an eye turner, love. I'm not young, or fair or God forbid, pure" she let out a small laugh at that to lighten the mood, but his stoic expression did not change. "There are plenty of more beautiful women on this ship he could woo."

"I beg to differ, Eleanor. Nobody on this bloody ship comes close to you" he sounded so sure, so earnest, that it had her wondering; what if? No, it couldn't be, he has no reason to, her mind promptly shut her needy heart up. Yet she found herself moving closer to him until her body was completely pressed against his. His cajolery was working.

"It's alright love, you don't have to butter me up to get me in to bed. We already are" she wiggled her eyebrows teasingly as she ground her hot centre against his bulge, trying and failing to stifle a moan.

He was so close to giving in, not that he needed much persuasion. It never took much with her. But he couldn't yet, not before she understood he was not "buttering her up" for a shag. He meant every word. "I'm only telling the truth. You are simply bewitching, Nellie." His words came out as a strangled whisper laced with arousal but that didn't make them less true.

"You are clever, pleasant to converse with, kind and caring. You inspire the blood to pump" She gasped as he raised the hand that was previously limp on the bed to graze the curve of her waist, and upwards to softly caress the swell of her breast. But much to her surprise, he didn't grab it like she thought he would, he merely moved his hand even further up, gliding along the exposed skin of her upper chest and neck until he cupped her cheek. He held her face, forcing her to meet his intense gaze. "And there's these eyes of yours. Just one look of those chestnut orbs is enough to make a man lose his head."

She gulped, said chestnut orbs glistening with unshed tears now. He knew what to say to get to her, to hit her in the feels. Even if she still couldn't believe his words to convey the full truth, he'd never bothered to tell her beautiful things before. That had to mean something. Perhaps something had indeed changed, he had changed somewhat. It remained to be seen why and to what extent, but that's a battle to fight another day. She ought to please him now, for being better to her and making her feel good. He deserved it.

"Never knew you to be such a flatterer, Sween. It suits you" she said somewhat seriously before she summoned back her playfully seductive mood. "But again, you don't need to tell me nice stuff to get me to shag you, you just have to ask" she passed a leg over his lap, so she was effectively straddling him. "You've been very good to me these past few days, maybe you deserve a reward, don't you think?"

She culminated her proposition by rolling her hips forward, raising herself a bit so his stiff member was directly under her core. He groaned as she moaned. Sweeney was impossibly hard, and his baker was all wet and ready for him, with only their clothes acting as a barrier to their mutual desire.

When she began nipping at his earlobe as her deft fingers softly scratched the nape of his neck, his hands shot to her butt, griping the soft flesh in all its roundness. He massaged and caressing, which had her purring in pleasure. And that was nothing compared to the sounds she made when one of his hands snuck in between their bodies to rub at her mound through her skirts. He could feel the hardened peaks of her nipples against him since she wasn't wearing a corset, and he instinctively thrusted up, eager to bury himself in her. To take her like an animal in heat.

But the last of his rationality was keeping him from abandoning himself to this urgent passion. Because he knew why she was doing this, what was in that beautiful head of hers. An assumption she shouldn't be making, since she could not be more wrong.

"You don't owe me anything, Nellie" he told her, but she seemed to ignore him. Fervently sucking on his neck, her head was clouded with lust. "Everything I do is because I want to, not because I expect anything from you." He removed his hands from her body, making her whimper. But her ministrations did not falter. She began moving forward, in little humping motions she knew drove him wild. He was about to succumb to her, but there was something else he needed to say. "You are more than what your body has to offer."

She stopped at once, promptly removing herself from his lap and scurrying over to the other corner of the room like a scalded cat. Her back was turned to a shocked Sweeney as her mind ventured into the not-so-distant past.

He hadn't had a good day, that was abundantly clear by the way he approached her as soon as she closed her own establishment for the night. But she wouldn't dare to complain because at least he was coming to her to relieve his frustrations and not some common street whore. She almost laughed as he clumsily fumbled with her bodice before ripping it open with the help of his razor, the man was eager alright! But then… it was over pretty much as soon as it had begun. He just entered her and after a few thrusts, he spent inside of her. Needless to say, Nellie was nowhere close to completion.

"That's it?" she called him back angrily when he stood up and made to leave. But she regretted her words almost instantly, for he turned round, fury in his eyes and sarcasm in his voice as he asked: "What did you expect Mrs. Lovett? For me to stay and cuddle you till the morning comes?" She rolled her eyes, it wasn't that he didn't care, he probably hadn't even realized she didn't come. But once again, it proved to be a mistake when he walked menacingly back to her until his face was mere inches from her own, the pools of darkness he had for eyes glowering at her as if he'd never seen anything more disgusting.

"This is just sex and you are nothing to me, woman. Nothing but a pair of breasts and a hot snatch that could be a lot looser considering the many… visitors it's got. I only care about what your body has to offer me because you are nothing but my personal whore and that will never change. Don't aim for more, because you will never find it… " he warned with as much venom as he could muster, and she had to use up all of her willpower not to break down right there.

She just slapped him, which he returned without hesitation, and it was only when he left her to go back to his brooding that she abandoned herself to despair. Because he wasn't purposely trying to hurt her, he'd said nothing but the truth. She was a whore, a woman whose only worth was her body and all she could do with. It wasn't like he was breaking the news to her, for Nellie had known for a long time, but that didn't make it hurt less.

His arms around her abruptly halted her trip down memory lane. Not lustful or demanding but comforting as he held her and Nellie could no longer keep the tears at bay. Because he was now lying to her, and sometimes, lies were better than the cold hard truth.

Because he cared enough to lie, lest he hurt her.

And that was more than she ever thought she would get from him. Especially not after the events in the bakehouse.

She cried silently for a while, the feelings she'd buried deep within her soul resurfacing like lava in a volcano. His strong arms did not leave her. In fact, Sweeney only pulled her closer, turning her around and allowing her to cry on his chest as he soothingly ran a hand through her hair. Who was this man, and what had he done with the demon barber of Fleet Street?

But as cathartic as it felt to let it all out, sooner rather and later, Nellie had enough. She was sad, she was always sad these days, and she hated it. This was a good development, a positive change in the man she loved, why didn't she stop crying? Decided to do something about it, she wiped her tears before looking up at him. A watery smile lighting up her gorgeous features.

Standing on her tippytoes, she captured his mouth into a heated kiss. Mashing her lips against his with ardor, she was eager to get back to where they left it. So was he, for the barber wasted no time in grabbing at her thighs to pick her up. He carried her until her back collided with the wall of the cabin, where he pawed at her supple body through her clothes.

"I told you, Nellie, you don't have to do this" he said half-heartedly as they momentarily pulled apart for air. Her kiss had left them breathless and although he wanted more, he had to make sure she was fully on board with it.

"I want to" she said confidently. And she meant it. She wanted, needed him.

She needed his kisses, his touch, his caresses. To replace those harrowing memories that didn't stop plaguing her with some of this man who seemingly resembled the one who came back from Australia in nothing but his handsome exterior.

The one standing before her, matching her passion with more fervent sucking across her neck and chest as he began to undress her, seemed to be the man she'd always wanted, the one she never truly believed she could find in him after the years in that penal colony changed him to the core. That man, she never really thought could remotely care about her.

But with this one, perhaps her wildest dreams were not so out of reach.