Love with a Notorious Rake

by Karyn Gerrard

  “Do it around three. Master usually stands in the window, watching the deliveries.”

  Aidan grabbed Rokesmith’s arm. “You had better be on the level with me. No going behind my back to Meeker or McRae. I have the power to bring this place down around your head, and I won’t be crossed. Work with me, and I will protect you and the children.”

  Anger flashed in the boy’s brown eyes. “You’re a toff sure enough; you think that you’re above us all. To hell with your threats.”

  Obviously the wrong tack to take, but he had to make it clear there would be ramifications if he was betrayed. He released Rokesmith. “I am merely making it clear where we stand.”

  “How are you going to protect us?” he grumbled, rubbing his arm.

  “I will not see you all separated and sent to another workhouse or orphanage, or sold to another mill. I will find a place for the younger children so they can stay together. It will be a place you approve of. As far as yourself, I will find a good apprenticeship. Then, when you’re able, you can travel to Dover with your head high and coin in your pocket. I will even assist you in pursuing your rightful inheritance.”

  “It’s not all that much money, Black. Not like you’re used to.”

  “It’s the principle of it. Your uncle stole from you, locked you away. You deserve justice. He deserves to be punished.”

  Rokesmith stared at him. “I can’t bloody make you out.”

  “I have enough trouble trying to sort through it myself. Do we have a pact?” Aidan held out his hand.

  Hesitating, Rokesmith stared at the outstretched hand, then met Aidan’s determined gaze. “I want one more guarantee: Lottie stays with me. She’s like a little sister. Family, you understand? I want to protect her.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Six. She thinks. She’s all alone. I’m all she’s got.”

  “I will see to it that she stays with you.”

  “As I said before, I must be daft, but all right. Pact.” He shook Aidan’s hand.

  Good. Things were starting to fall into place. Now he would have to step up his evil overseer role, even though he found it distasteful.

  Chapter 13

  All the next day, Cristyn found it difficult to concentrate on the tasks at hand, knowing Aidan would be coming by the rooming house that evening. Perhaps she should send word for him to stay away, but she yearned to see him again. For all her supposed strength, she had none whatsoever as far as Aidan was concerned.

  As for the sensual familiarity between them? Cristyn was not the least bit embarrassed, but she was astonished at her swift reaction to his intimate touch. Heavens, no wonder people risked all for such doings. And his breathless confession of thinking of her while he saw to his own pleasure…. The image of it haunted her dreams the entire night. It was easy enough to conjure, seeing as she knew what lay under his clothes.

  “Cristyn. Where are you? Have you found the antiseptic?” Paris called.

  Daydreaming once again. It was important she gain command of her wayward emotions. She located the glass bottle on the shelf and brought it to Paris in the outer office. “Sorry.”

  “Thinking of your rescuer?” He gave her a teasing smile.

  “How did you hear about that?”

  “I have had three patients inform me of your robbery. How the dashing Mr. Black, overseer at Morris Mill, gallantly came to your aid, though he did not chase the thief.”

  “I asked him not to bother, as it wasn’t worth the pursuit. I was knocked to the ground. Nothing injured but my pride. I was going to tell you.”

  Paris crossed his arms. “I promised your father I would look after you. I am tempted to write and inform him Mr. Black is here. I should also mention the robbery.”

  “Please don’t. It will only complicate matters, more than they are already. He would insist I leave, and I can’t. Not yet. I’m accomplishing something here, doing good work, and I’m not finished.”

  Paris nodded. “I understand. For the time being, I will not mention Mr. Black or the thievery in my correspondence. You met with him last night, am I correct? Hence why he was close by to come to your aid?”

  Cristyn sighed. “I cannot stay away. He is temptation incarnate.”

  Paris rubbed his earlobe. “I understand that particular sensation. But this is a small village. People talk. With decided frequency.”

  “He’s coming by Mrs. Trubshaw’s this evening. She invited him.”

  “Do you wish for me to be there?”

  With Paris in attendance, she would not be tempted to find a few minutes alone with Aidan. She could publicly state he need not bother calling on her again. But the memory of his evocative scent, devastating kiss, and searing touch overrode all common sense and propriety. “No, Mrs. Trubshaw will be there. I will make it plain to Aidan he’s not to call again.”

  But, later that evening, all thoughts of avoiding him flew from her mind when Mrs. Trubshaw showed him into the main parlor. Immaculately groomed and wearing an expensive black coat and neatly tied silver cravat, he exuded wealth and privilege. Mrs. Trubshaw tittered as he bent over her hand. When Aidan turned to Cristyn, she held out hers for him to shake—not to kiss. Aidan gave her a sly smile, took her hand, turned it, then pressed his lips across her knuckles. “Miss Bevan,” he murmured sensually, “I do hope you have recovered from your ordeal.”

  Cristyn pulled her hand from his, flustered. “I have.”

  “Do take a seat, Mr. Black, and I will fetch the tea tray.” Mrs. Trubshaw scurried from the room, leaving them alone.

  Aidan did not hesitate. He swept Cristyn up in his arms and kissed her. Push him away? No. Never. She took the opportunity to clasp the sides of his head, meeting his tongue with hers, aggressively plundering his mouth as he had hers last night. Her fingers dove into his thick midnight-black hair, and Aidan growled in response, pulling her tight against him.

  His hand moved to her breast, and a squeak of surprise escaped her lips. His thumb stroked her erect nipple, sending shocking waves of pleasure along her spine, settling in her feminine core.

  The sound of footsteps broke them apart, and Aidan opened the door wider for the landlady. “Allow me to assist you, Mrs. Trubshaw.” He took the large tray from her. “Where would you like it?”

  “There, on that table will be fine, sir.”

  Once seated, Mrs. Trubshaw poured the tea and passed a cup and saucer to each of them. A knock sounded at the door. “Oh, one moment.”

  Aidan gave Cristyn a questioning look, and she shrugged.

  “Why, Dr. Middlemiss! I was not expecting you tonight. Come in. We have company, but you’re more than welcome to join us.”

  Aidan frowned. Cristyn was truly puzzled, for she had made it clear she would handle this situation—perhaps Paris had come for an entirely different reason.

  Aidan stood when Paris entered the room. “Dr. Middlemiss, this is Mr. Aidan Black, head overseer at Morris Mill.”

  Paris pulled off his gloves and held out his hand. “Ah, the hero himself. Come to cover yourself in glory?”

  Aidan’s mouth twitched in annoyance—Cristyn knew the guarded expression intimately. “Well, tea and biscuits, at any rate.” Aidan gripped Paris’s hand and gave it a brief shake before retaking his seat.

  Paris handed his cloak and gloves to the landlady. “Morris Mill. Is it to be a permanent position?” Paris knew it wasn’t; what was he playing at? “I’ve never seen such a speedy exit. Mr. Hanson, wife, and children, all bundled into a wagon and disappeared in the dead of night. It was mysterious, to be sure. Then you arrive.”

  Aidan calmly sipped his tea. “I assure you the position is indeed temporary. Hence the reason I am staying at the inn. I’ve no plans to settle in this village of misery. No offense, Mrs. Trubshaw.”

  Paris crossed his legs and took the cup and saucer offered.
“But I am sure Mrs. Trubshaw is offended, Mr. Black. After all, this is her home. Many villagers have fallen on hard times, the situation exacerbated by the cruelty of the masters who run the mill and rent out the stocking frames at exorbitant prices. But, as you say, your residence is a temporary one. Not long enough to impact anyone’s lives. Or assist those in need.”

  Mrs. Trubshaw looked from one man to the other. “I’m not offended, truly—”

  “There is a Mr. Muggeridge who frequents this village. He’s here as agent for Queen Victoria, and due to arrive within two weeks to conclude his report. I can introduce you,” Paris continued, his voice haughty. “The dire poverty here has reached the queen’s ear; I’m sure you can fill in the agent on the doings at the mill.”

  “This village and its occupants hold no interest for me. I do not wish to become involved. I will do as I was hired, then, when the term is at an end, I will leave, and think on this place no more.”

  Cristyn gasped. Is this how Aidan truly felt? The ice-blue coldness of his eyes shocked her, as did the indifferent tone of his voice. Perhaps she did not know him at all.

  “Well, not all of us are unaffected by the desolation. Isn’t that correct, Cristyn?”

  She murmured in agreement, not sure what to say.

  “I would like to come tomorrow morning and visit the children.” Paris turned toward Mrs. Trubshaw. “If you were not aware, Mr. McRae has allowed me to treat them. Gratis, of course. It was the only terms he would agree to. I have the smallpox vaccine, and would like to inoculate the children. Will you agree to such?”

  “Why ask me?” Aidan said.

  “You are the head overseer. Are you not permitted to make such decisions?”

  “I find it prudent not to overstep my bounds as far as Mr. McRae is concerned. I suggest you take it up with him.”

  “I will. Now, as to why you are here.”

  “Dr. Middlemiss!” Cristyn exclaimed. What was Paris doing? The tension in the room was palpable.

  “I am looking out for your interests, my dear, as I promised your father.” Then he said to Aidan in a firm voice, his jaw determinedly set, “Miss Bevan is not available to be courted.”

  Mrs. Trubshaw cleared her throat, evidently uncomfortable by the icy tone of the conversation.

  Aidan placed the cup and saucer on the table. “Is it not for the young lady to decide? Are you her guardian? Unless you have other justifications for protecting her.”

  Paris shrugged. “Perhaps I do. I esteem Cristyn greatly. We would make a formidable couple, considering our mutual interest in medicine and assisting those less fortunate.” Paris gave her a heated look that, frankly, shocked her. Why was he spouting this nonsense?

  Aidan stood, his expression dark. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Trubshaw. If you wish to examine the children, Doctor, make an appointment with Mr. McRae. For I care not. Good evening, Miss Bevan.” He bowed and left the room.

  Cristyn could only stare at Aidan’s broad back and shoulders as he departed. What had happened?

  “Doctor, I must say, I have never seen you act so rudely before,” Mrs. Trubshaw huffed. “Excuse me.”

  When she left, Paris blew out a breath. “Are you angry, Cristyn?”

  “Yes, I am, rather. I said I would handle this. Now Aidan believes you have designs on me. Mrs. Trubshaw as well.”

  “I apologize for being facetious. I had no right to interfere. I purposely baited him to ascertain his character and his motives, toward you and the mill. It appears he is the same manner of man as McRae. Surely you see this.”

  Heavens, could it be true? Aidan had said it plainly: He cared not for the children. But there had to be an explanation.

  Paris met her gaze. “I do care for you, my dear. I don’t want to see you hurt. That is a man with a cold, dark soul—I would bet my life on it.” Paris stared at the door. “As far as your landlady, I must make my apologies. Do you accept mine?”

  Cristyn frowned. “Only if you do not interfere again. I am more than capable of making up my own mind. If only everyone would stop interfering in my life.” Her voice had a hard edge to it, for she was trying to keep her fury and frustration under control.

  “I am suitably admonished, and deservedly so. But do not dismiss Mr. Black’s words and actions here tonight.” Paris stood, briefly touched her shoulder, then left to seek out Mrs. Trubshaw.

  Left alone in the parlor, a tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly dashed it away. Surely Aidan wasn’t as cold and dark as he had been moments ago. How could he not care about what was going on at the mill? The state of the children, the grinding poverty all around them?

  Yes, perhaps she had colossally misjudged a man, who, because of his handsome face and stunning build, had blinded her to his true nature. Was she that shallow? It was a sobering thought. Cristyn was deeply disappointed and hurt. Perhaps she should rethink her feelings about Aidan—or perhaps she needed more proof. She was not one for brooding or jumping to conclusions. One way or another, she would get to the truth of it, even if she had to confront him head on.

  * * * *

  By the following day, Aidan had managed to tamp down the potent mix of anger and jealousy, but it simmered under the surface nonetheless. What in the hell had the doctor been trying to prove? Obviously, Middlemiss wanted to damage him in Cristyn’s eyes because he had designs on her himself. Now that he had met the man and seen him up close, it was obvious he was years older; the many lines fanning out from his eyes and the threads of gray at his temples placed him at mid-forties, at least. Far too old. But when had that stopped most men from pursuing younger women? It was predatory, and churned Aidan’s insides.

  Enough of this. He had to concentrate on the task at hand: playing the overbearing overseer. Once he left the raised platform, he strode along the rows of spinning machines, glaring at everyone who dared to meet his eyes.

  Aidan focused on a child coughing furiously. A woman was holding her close and rubbing her back. “You there!” he thundered. “The child is sick. Too sick to work. It is yours?” he asked the woman, who held the little girl closer, as if to protect her.

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Send her home. Immediately. I’ll not have the other workers catch her disease.”

  “We can’t afford to give up her place, we need—”

  “Not my concern. Escort her home, and if you are not back here in fifteen minutes, I’ll replace you.”

  The woman took the child’s hand and scurried away. Those nearby were watching him, dislike plain on their faces. Good. “Get back to work!” he roared. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mr. Meeker taking notes. He might as well continue to play the role of the hated overseer.

  With hands clasped behind his back, he continued on his journey up and down the narrow aisles, barking orders, admonishing those not working fast enough. He came upon Tessie, who was trembling and would not look his way. Aidan grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the machine. He pointed to a man repairing the leather band on the machine next to it. “You! Take her place.”

  Tessie nearly tripped, but he pulled her along regardless. The fright on her face made his insides clench, but this had to be done. There was no way in hell he could stay the full two months and act this way. It would destroy him utterly. Damage his already shriveled soul beyond all repair and redemption.

  Tessie was crying openly now. He pushed her into the small storage room and slammed the door, but not before he glanced at the spinning room floor. Most workers had kept their heads down, but some glared at him with looks of hatred.

  “Please, sir, don’t hit me. I’ll do anything.” She dropped to her knees. “I’ll suck you here, now…”

  He gently grasped her arms and brought her to her feet. “Why would I hit you?” he asked, his voice hushed. “Did Mr. Hanson or Master ever strike you? Tell me the truth.”

>   “Y-y-yes.”

  A fresh roll of indignation moved through him at the thought of these loathsome men bullying and assaulting this young woman. Oh, they would pay. “My offer stands: three shillings for information. It must remain between us. Now, when Mr. Hanson brought women into this room, it was for sexual favors for extra coin, correct?”

  She nodded as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  “These are the kind of questions I will be asking you tonight. You know where I’m staying. Room fifteen. Be there at thirty minutes past six. As far as that lot out there is concerned, I’m the same as Hanson. If they ask, you say as such. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered, sniffling.

  “Do not tell me any lies.”

  “Aye, no lies. It’s just me mother and me younger brother. I’m all they’ve got. I need this job; I’m the only one making any money.” Her expression hardened. “And I’ll do anything to protect them. Keep them fed.”

  “If you give me truthful information, I’ll make sure your family does not starve. You will not have to debase yourself again for money, you have my word.” Aidan’s voice shook on the last sentence, for it was a reminder of the depths he had plummeted into in order to buy opium. The memory made his hands shake. All this drama and turmoil had him craving oblivion with the pipe, an easy escape from reality. He closed his eyes briefly as he fought the temptation. With a raspy exhale, he opened his eyes and stared at Tessie. “Do not repeat any of this, or there will be no agreement between us. Will you trust me? I don’t wish to hurt you.”

  Tessie gave him a dubious look. “Aye, I’ll try to trust you, sir. I’m that desperate for coin. I’ll come to your room.”

  “Good. Now, how long would you be in here with Hanson?”

  “A few minutes only; he was a quick ’un.”

  Aidan bit back a smile. “When you leave the room, wipe your mouth and look disgusted. Allow the others to draw their own conclusions.”