Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (15 page)

Hopefully today’s reading would show nothing but a bright sunny future filled with a lovely wife and scads of children. Then she could walk away and forget she’d ever met him. Rededicate her energies to building a future for the lost, broken angels of London’s mean streets. Allowing Lord Sutton to kiss her had been a mistake. An aberration. One she would no longer dwell upon and one that she certainly wouldn’t repeat.

Filled with resolve, she checked the time. Noting it was after two o’clock, she quickly refreshed herself. Emma had already filled the knapsack Alex was to deliver before she’d left to sell her oranges hours ago. After slipping on her gloves, Alex was about to reach for the knapsack when she heard the familiar muffled squeak of the trapdoor opening. Moving across the room, she pushed back the curtain and watched Robbie climb into the room. Relief swamped her. The child hadn’t slept here last night, and even though he didn’t come every night, she’d still been concerned.

After closing the trapdoor, he stood and looked at her through grave eyes. “Miss Alex,” he said. His bottom lip trembled, then he dashed across the room and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her skirt.

She hugged him tightly, then crouched so she could look him in the eyes. “Are you all right, Robbie?” she
asked, her gaze sweeping over him, afraid to hear his answer. His bruises had faded to a dull yellowish green, and she saw no evidence of new ones. Thank God.

He wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded. “Are ye and Miss Emmie all right?”

“Of course. Except for being worried about you.” She brushed back a lock of unkempt hair from his forehead and offered him a smile that she prayed hid the ache in her heart he always inspired. “We missed you last night.”

“I tried to come, but I couldn’t.”

Alex’s jaw tightened. She knew what that meant. His father hadn’t been drunk enough to pass out and not notice the child’s absence.

He hung his head and scuffed the toe of his dirty, worn shoe. “Couldn’t get here ’til now to see if ye were all right.” He lifted his head. “Ye swear ye’re fine?”

“I swear. Miss Emmie, too. Why would you think we weren’t?”

“’Cause o’ the man wot were here when I came yesterday. Right in this room, Miss Alex. Caught ’im, I did, when I came fer an orange.” His expression turned fierce. “Told ’im I’d gut ’im if he hurt ye.”

She stilled. “A man? Here? What did he want?”

“He asked about ye. Gave me a bob, ’e did, but don’t worry, I outsmarted ’im and didn’t tell him nuthin’.”

“A
bob?
That’s a grand amount,” she said lightly, trying to hide her alarm. Dear God, had Lord Malloran’s killer somehow discovered she’d written the note and tracked her down? “Did you recognize this man?”

Robbie shook his head. “Fancy bloke, he were. Rich. Tried to give me less, but I knew he could afford more.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a dirty piece of cloth, which he held out to her. “Bought meself a sweet roll. I saved half for ye
and Miss Emmie. To say thanks fer”—he scuffed the toe of his shoe again—“well, ye know. I know how ye like sweets.”

A lump tightened Alex’s throat, and it felt as if her chest caved in. There was no mistaking the pride in his voice. Since refusing his gift—one he could ill afford to give—would crush him, she solemnly accepted the bundle, understanding his need to show gratitude. “Thank you, Robbie. This is the finest gift I’ve ever received. Miss Emmie and I will eat it with our tea.” She carefully set down the precious bundle, then rested her hands on his thin shoulders. “Tell me more about this man. What did he look like?”

Robbie scrunched up his face to consider. “Bloke had fine clothes and dark hair. Tall, he was, and wide.” He spread his arms to demonstrate. “But not fat, mind ye. Just…big. Strong. Picked me right up by me collar he did.”

Anger jolted through her. “He hurt you?”

“Nah. Fought him off I did. He was scary, but not half as scary as my pa. Tried to stare me down, but I didn’t let him.” His face puckered again. “Bloke had real green eyes. Greener than I’ve ever seen before.”

Alex froze. Green eyes? Realization clicked into place, and anger erupted inside her, leaving her feeling like a teakettle about to spew steam. There was no doubt in her mind as to the identity of this green-eyed rich bloke. No wonder she’d sensed someone watching her! He’d followed her. Then invaded her home. Her privacy. Her sanctuary. The children’s sanctuary. The ramifications made her head spin.

“He saw me come up through the trapdoor, Miss Alex,” Robbie said in a small, watery voice, jerking her attention back to him. In spite of all he’d gone through, she’d never once seen him cry, but he appeared on the verge of doing so now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

She stopped his words with a gentle finger to his quivering lips. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Robbie. I’m certain that, thanks to your description, I know who the man is.”

“Is he a…bad man?”

She forced a smile. “No. So you’re not to worry. I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

Colin watched her building from the same shadowed doorway where he’d stood yesterday. When his quarry finally appeared, she held a knapsack that looked identical to the one she’d carried yesterday.

He followed her to the same building as yesterday, where she entered The Broken Barrel and emerged shortly afterward without the knapsack. She then walked in the direction of Mayfair, presumably to his town house for their appointment.

“What’s the plan?” came a deep whisper from directly behind him.

He whipped around and found himself staring at Nathan. “Bloody hell,” he hissed. “Where did you come from?”

Nathan cocked a brow. “Our mother’s womb, same as you. Do you require a lesson on where babies come from?”

Damn. How had he managed to forget what a bloody pest Nathan could be? Or how light on his feet. Still, it unsettled him that Nathan had been able to sneak up on him so effectively. Didn’t bode well for his success. “What are you doing here?”

“The exact question I was about to ask you.”

“If I’d wanted you to know, I would have bloody well told you.”

“Which you clearly weren’t going to do, which is why I was forced to take matters into my own hands and follow you.” A smug look crossed his face. “Seems I
haven’t lost my touch for covert dealings. You, on the other hand, are apparently a bit rusty.”

Colin didn’t bother to answer. He wasn’t certain if he were more annoyed at himself for not detecting Nathan’s presence or Nathan for his interference. “We’ll discuss this later. Go home.”

“Yes, we most certainly shall discuss this later. As for going home, if you think I’m going to leave, you’re sadly mistaken. So just tell me the plan. Who was that woman and why are you following her?”

Damn it, why couldn’t he have been an only child? Realizing there was no escaping his brother, he said in a terse undertone, “Later. Right now, time is short. I want to find out what she did in that building. I’m not expecting her to return, but as long as you’re here, you can make yourself useful and be a lookout. If you see her approaching, give me the clear-out signal.”

“All right.”

Colin approached the building, noting the shabby exterior, the façade missing a number of bricks. The three abandoned storefronts looked deserted, but he suspected that life teemed behind the rough boards barring the entrances.

He opened The Broken Barrel’s scarred wooden door and entered the dim interior. The sour smell of stale drink and unwashed bodies assailed him. Standing just inside the doorway, he looked around, noting the warped benches and worn tables. Two men hunched over mugs in the far corner looked at him through narrowed eyes, clearly assessing their chances of relieving him of his purse. With his gaze steady on the duo, he slowly reached down and pulled the knife secreted in his boot up several inches, so the gleaming silver hilt was plainly visible. The men exchanged a look with each other, then shrugged and went back to their drinks.

Satisfied, he approached the bar, behind which stood
a bald-headed giant of a man who wiped the dull wooden surface with a dirty-looking rag and regarded him with a suspicious glare. “Ale?” the giant asked.

“Information.”

“I don’t know nuthin’.”

Colin reached into his pocket and laid a gold sovereign on the bar.

“Might know sumthin’,” the barkeep muttered with a shrug of his massive shoulders.

Resting one elbow on the edge of the bar, Colin leaned closer, ostensibly to talk confidentially, but his gaze swept over the area behind the bar. A knapsack sat in the corner. “The woman who was just here—what did she give you?”

The man’s eyes narrowed to slits. Setting his ham-sized fists on the bar, he leaned forward until his nose, which had clearly been broken at least once, nearly touched Colin’s. “I don’t know nuthin’.” He then leaned back and stared at Colin with a frosty glare clearly meant to freeze him where he stood.

Keeping his gaze steady on the man’s mud-colored eyes, Colin nodded toward the corner behind the bar. “That knapsack tells me otherwise.”

“Who the hell are ye, and why do ye want to know?”

“I’m a…friend who’s concerned about her.”

“Yeah? Well, now
I’m
concerned—that a fancy toff like you is askin’ about her and sumthin’ that’s none o’ yer business.”

Colin set another gold coin on the bar. “Why was she here? What’s in that bag?”

The man picked up the two coins then reached out and slipped them back into Colin’s pocket. “Yer money’s no good here. But let me give ye a bit o’ advice—for free. Stay away from her. If I find out ye’ve been botherin’ her,
ye’ll have Jack Wallace to deal with.” He made a fist and thumped it into his open palm. “And ye won’t find it a pleasant experience, m’lord.”

Colin cocked a brow upward. “Is she yours?”

The giant’s eyes narrowed to slits. “All ye need to know is she ain’t yers.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Now get out. Before I forget my fancy manners and kick yer fancy arse out the door.”

“Very well.” He walked to door and opened it. Before stepping over the threshold, however, he turned and met the giant’s gaze. “Since my money was no good here, I concluded my pocket watch wouldn’t be either, so I retrieved it from you. I must commend you, Mr. Wallace. For a man with such large hands, your technique is quite good.”

Surprise flashed in Wallace’s eyes, and his hand flew to his apron pocket. Without another word, Colin exited the pub, heading swiftly in the direction of Mayfair. He’d only taken half a dozen strides when Nathan fell into step beside him. “Did you find out what you wished to know?” his brother asked.

“No.”

“I was relieved the barkeep didn’t decide to make an hors d’oeuvre of you. Even with both of us, I’m not certain we could have taken him.”

“You were supposed to wait across the street.”

“No, I was supposed be a lookout. Can I help it if during the course of performing my duty I happened to see the giant barkeep?”

Before he could reply, Nathan continued, “And speaking of what we’re
supposed
to do, you’re
supposed
to tell me what the devil is going on.”

“And I shall. Tomorrow.” He winced and rubbed his hand over the pull in his thigh as he walked. He turned to look at Nathan, noting his brother’s tight jaw as he
stared at Colin’s massaging fingers. He immediately stopped rubbing, cursing his carelessness. “It’s fine. Just a bit stiff.”

Nathan’s gaze met his and he easily read the guilt and regret in his brother’s eyes. “I’m fine, Nathan. And if you apologize—again—for something that wasn’t your fault, I swear I’ll toss you into the Thames.”

“As your being shot was
entirely
my fault, I’ll apologize for it as many times as I damn well please.”

“As it was entirely
my
fault, I refuse to listen to any further unnecessary apologies.”

“I suppose we shall simply have to agree to disagree. And as for tossing me into the Thames, you’d have one hell of a time doing so, considering I can easily outrun you.”

A bark of relieved laughter rose in his throat, and he coughed to cover it, grateful that the awkward moment had passed. “You may be faster, but I’m smarter.”

“Debatable, but even if you were a bloody genius, I’m certainly not stupid enough to end up in the Thames.”

“You’ll look very silly repeating those words with river water dripping from you. But I’ve no time to debate the point any longer, as I have an appointment for which I’m already late. It is my hope that this appointment will result in me having even more to tell you tomorrow.”

“I see. Well, then, I believe I’ll depart your company at the corner as I have affairs of my own to see to. I’ll see you at dinner? Eight o’clock?”

“Yes.”

When they reached the corner, Colin continued straight, toward home, while Nathan turned right. Out of his brother’s sight, he rubbed his sore leg, cursing the worsening pain that prevented him from moving as quickly as he would have liked.

Madame Larchmont awaited him, which was good since the questions just kept piling up. What had she given Wallace? Why hadn’t the man accepted the bribe? What was it about her that inspired such loyalty? He’d have his answers. And by damn after he did, he intended to find out if the kiss they’d shared was as magnificent the second time around.

The instant Lord Sutton’s butler closed the
door to his elegant drawing room, leaving Alex alone, she swiftly crossed to the desk near the window. She wasn’t certain how much time she had before Lord Sutton—or, as she now preferred to think of him, the green-eyed rich bloke—joined her for their appointment, and she intended to make the most of every minute.

With an effort, she swallowed the anger bubbling so close to the surface and quickly sifted through the pile of correspondence neatly stacked on a silver salver resting on the corner of the polished mahogany surface. A half dozen party invitations, a note from his brother, another from Lord Wexhall, several more invitations, the last one a single line which read
Looking forward to seeing you again soon
. It was signed with only the letter “M” and…she drew the vellum to her nose…scented with rosewater.

An unpleasant sensation she refused to examine too closely lest she be forced to admit its resemblance to jealousy rippled through her. Then she frowned in utter irritation. Damnation, what did she care if he had
assignations with this “M” woman, or a dozen women? She didn’t.

Still, the thought of him touching another woman, kissing another woman…she squeezed her eyes shut to banish the heated memory of him touching
her
, kissing
her
, but the effort failed completely. Which was ridiculous. And utterly vexatious. She was angry with him. Furious. Why, if he attempted to kiss her again, she’d blacken both his eyes.

If she’d known what he’d done, how he’d invaded her home, her privacy, before their kiss, she certainly wouldn’t have allowed him such liberties.

Would she?

Dear God, she wanted, needed to believe she wouldn’t have. But the fact that she didn’t know frightened her—nearly as much as her wanton reaction to him and the fire he’d ignited in her body. Opening her eyes, she pressed her lips together and embraced her anger, an emotion much safer than the other unsettling feelings he provoked. And one she intended to cling to when she confronted him with his deception.

Forcing her attention back to the task at hand, she replaced the correspondence, then slid open the top drawer. She instantly saw the leather pouch from which he’d paid her yesterday. She lifted the bag, bouncing its weight in her palm, listening to the jangle of coins.

Judging by the weight of the bundle, she held a small fortune, and her fingers prickled with temptation. Not so very long ago she would have slipped the pouch into her pocket. Given what he’d done to her, it was certainly no less than he deserved. But she wasn’t that person any longer. And didn’t ever want to be that person again. After one last squeeze, she replaced the pouch, then quickly searched the remainder of the drawers, none of which yielded anything of interest.

Until she reached the bottom drawer, which was
locked. Without hesitation she dropped to her knees, yanked off her gloves, then pulled a hairpin from her chignon and set to work. The ticking of the mantel clock was the only sound as she concentrated on her task. It took less than a minute before she felt the lock begin to give way, and a smile of satisfaction curved her lips. Just one more little jiggle—

“This might perhaps help you,” came a deep voice from directly behind her.

She gasped and turned. Lord Sutton leaned against the wall, ankles casually crossed, looking down at her with his usual unreadable expression. A silver key, suspended from a black ribbon, dangled from his outstretched hand.

Damnation. How had he managed to sneak up on her like that? He must move like smoke. And good Lord, he certainly managed to look extremely good while doing so. His midnight blue jacket, silver waistcoat, and cream breeches, which were tucked into black boots polished to a mirrorlike shine, fit his masculine form to perfection.

Her gaze traveled over him, pausing on the fascinating fit of his snug breeches. Her kneeling position left her on eye level with his groin—a riveting view that captured her interest in a way that certainly should have appalled her. And surely would, the instant she could tear her gaze away.

A wave of heat engulfed her, and her hand involuntarily drifted to her hip, to rest on the exact spot where his hard flesh had pressed against her last night.

“You’re staring, Madame. In a most distracting way.”

Another wave of heat, this one born of acute mortification, swamped her, and her gaze snapped upward. His green gaze seemed to burn into her, jolting her from her humiliating stupor.

She jumped to her feet, planted her hands on her hips, and glared at him. “You startled me half to death.
Are you normally in the habit of sneaking up on people, my lord?”

One dark brow inched upward. “Well, I certainly must give you marks for audacity. I think the more pertinent question, Madame, is: Are you normally in the habit of picking the locks on other people’s drawers?”

“You could provide lessons on audacity, my lord. My presence before your desk is no less than you deserve, considering that you picked the lock to enter my rooms.”

She’d expected him to deny it, but instead he merely inclined his head. “Clearly my lock picking proved more successful than yours.” He jiggled the dangling key. “Since your skills are so severely lacking, please allow me to offer you this.”

Lacking?
Lacking?
Of all the arrogance! Never had her skills been questioned—yet she couldn’t deny the utterly chafing and humbling fact that this was the second time he’d caught her in the act, leaving her to question whether she was more irritated at herself or him.

Without sparing his offering a glance, she said in her best disdainful tone, “If only you’d been delayed another minute or two, I’d now bloody well know what you’re up to. I don’t suppose you’d consider toddling on off to one of your clubs for a while?”

“I don’t suppose I would. And such language, Madame.” He made a
tsk
ing sound. “I must say, you’re not being very ladylike about this matter.”

“Make no mistake, my lord. I never claimed to be a lady. You, on the other hand,
are
a gentleman. One can only wonder where and why a gentleman would acquire lock-picking skills.”

“Obviously from a superior teacher than whoever taught you. What precisely were you looking for? Money? If so, I’d have preferred if you’d simply asked.” His voice and expression turned cold. “Or did you already help
yourself to the coins you know from yesterday’s visit are in the top drawer?”

Humiliation scorched her. “I didn’t take your money. I’m not a thief.”
Anymore
.

He looked far from convinced. “Then what were you looking for?”

“What were
you
looking for when you broke into my rooms?”

Horrible man, he didn’t even have the grace to appear the least bit abashed. “Information.”

“Regarding?”

“You.”

“Why did you not simply ask me?”

“I didn’t believe you would be forthcoming in your answers.”

She raised her brows. “A possibility—if you asked about topics which are none of your business.”

“Annoying, but understandable. Which is why I took matters into my own hands to find out what I wanted to know. Would you like to hear what I discovered?”

“I know what you discovered.” An image of Robbie’s face, his bottom lip trembling, flashed in her mind, fueling her anger. She stepped closer to him and fisted her hands at her side. “Do you know how badly you frightened that child? A child who spends every day living with fear? A child whose only safe haven you invaded?”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I didn’t mean to frighten him.”

“Yet you did. Do you have any idea of the damage you’ve caused?” Her anger boiled over, and suddenly she couldn’t stand still. She paced in front of him with jerky steps. “Robbie has nowhere else that’s safe. None of them do. If he fears coming to my rooms…” She halted in front of him, unable to stop the words. “His father makes him steal. To earn his keep. If he doesn’t bring home enough, he’s beaten. That child spends his days
struggling to survive and praying for the nights when his father drinks enough to pass out. Those are the nights he comes to me. To rest. To eat. To heal. To feel safe. And it’s the only time he
does
feel safe. Seeing a strange man in my rooms, someone he thinks might harm him or me—it could keep him from coming. If he tells any of the others, it might keep them from coming as well.”

“Others? How many are there?”

She drew a shaky breath. “More than I can hope to help. I’m all they have. Emma and I, my friend who lives with me. What little bit of trust they possess, they give to us. And none of them deserve more fear in their lives. Or to have their one safe place violated. You had no right—”

He reached out and laid his fingers over her lips, cutting off her words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If I had—”

“You would have done the exact same thing,” she said in an accusatory tone, jerking away from his hand.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to know more about you.”

“Again, I must ask, why?”

He studied her for several long seconds, then asked, “Are you casting about for compliments?”

A humorless sound of disbelief escaped her.
“Compliments?
How you would arrive at such a far-fetched conclusion is a mystery to me. But to answer your question, no. Now I ask you to answer mine. Why would you be interested in finding out more about me?”

“What if I told you it’s because I find you…fascinating?”

“I’d say there clearly must be another reason.”

His gaze roamed her face with an intensity that curled her toes inside her shoes. “I wonder…are you that modest, or are you truly so bereft of vanity?”

“I’ve nothing to be vain about, my lord, as anyone
with eyes can easily discern; therefore, I demand you cease this nonsense at once and tell me the truth.”

“Very well.” He indicated the sitting area in front of the fireplace. “Let us sit.”

“I prefer to stand.”

“As you please.” Colin settled his shoulders against the wall and loosely crossed his arms over his chest, his deliberately nonchalant posture at complete odds with the tension gripping him. “I wanted to know more about you for a number of reasons, one of which was my burning curiosity regarding your unique method of leaving Lord Malloran’s house.”

He caught the barest flicker in her eyes, one he would have missed if he hadn’t been watching her so closely, and reluctant admiration filled him. No doubt about it, she was very good. In fact, she would have made a hell of a spy.

“I’m not certain I understand your meaning,” she said.

“I mean your departure through his lordship’s study window—a rather unusual way out, especially considering the drop to the ground. I’m sure you can understand that my curiosity only increased when I learned that it was the room where Malloran and his footman were found dead only several hours after your exit.”

Silence, thick and tense, swelled between them. Finally, she said, “Surely you do not believe I had anything to do with their deaths.”

“Why wouldn’t I think that? Your actions are, at best, highly suspect.”

“If you believed me guilty of murder, you’d have reported me to the authorities.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?”

There…an unmistakable flicker of something in her eyes. But it wasn’t guilt. No, it looked like fear—understandable given how she’d spent her time at Vaux
hall. London jails were notoriously unpleasant. She hiked up her chin a notch. “No one has questioned me.”

“Then it has clearly escaped your notice that that is precisely what
I
am doing.”

She appeared completely nonplussed. Then a sound of disbelief passed her lips. “You have no authority to do so.”

“No. But I did see you leaving through that window. Very interesting, especially as Malloran and his footman were found poisoned soon after.”

Her eyes widened with shock too genuine to be feigned. “B…but I thought they’d been bludgeoned. All the gossips said—”

“Yes, they were coshed. But after they were poisoned. Apparently to make the murders look like a robbery. It’s also interesting that the poison used is believed to be prussic acid.”

She frowned, appearing genuinely confused. “What is prussic acid?”

“An odd question coming from the wife of a ratcatcher, as prussic acid is commonly used by men in your husband’s profession to kill the vermin.”

She went perfectly still, then as the color slowly seeped from her face, he said softly, “A rather damning coincidence, made more so by the fact that you lied to me about where you lived. But when I searched your rooms, I not only found no evidence of poison. I also found no evidence of a husband.”

In a flash he pushed from the wall and stepped toward her. She gasped and moved back, her retreat halted after a single step when her hips hit the desk. Less than an arm’s length separated them. He could see the cinnamon flecks in her eyes, the gilded freckles marching across her nose. And the flicker of apprehension in her eyes.

“So why don’t you tell me,
Madame
Larchmont, why
I shouldn’t believe that you poisoned Lord Malloran and his footman? Give me a reason why I shouldn’t immediately report my suspicions to the magistrate.”

She licked her lips. “Why haven’t you already?”

Because in spite of what I saw, in spite of what I know about you, my gut tells me there’s another explanation
. “I wanted to hear your explanation first. I learned the hard way that things aren’t always as they appear.”

Her gaze shifted downward, riveting on his hand, and he realized with a jolt of annoyance that he was unconsciously kneading his sore thigh. He immediately stopped, and her gaze rose to again meet his. Ignoring the questions lurking in those chocolate brown depths, he said, “I’m listening, Madame. I suggest you begin talking.”

Alex looked into his eyes, at his implacable expression, and knew there was no point in not telling him the truth about what she’d overheard, although it wasn’t necessary to tell him it was
his
unexpected presence that had precipitated her untimely escape from the drawing room, which had ended with her seeking sanctuary in Lord Malloran’s study.