by Kristi Jun
He didn’t answer. What a frustrating man. “Alright, I will answer three questions.”
“Why three?”
She didn’t know, but one seemed not enough and more than three seemed too many. “Three is all you get,” she said. “Or you get none.” She watched him, and he seemed to give some thought to what she said. She didn’t realize it before, but he had several white specks of hair in his beard and a visible scar on his right chin hidden by his beard.
“Favorite flower?”
For a moment, she went blank. She thought he’d ask about her time in the streets. More information on Johnathan, or when she was stealing in the street, something that had some relevance to their current predicament. “Flowers?” This had nothing to do with her life in Boston.
“Haven’t you had anyone give you flowers before?”
Her heart sank with the realization that she never had, nor thought about it, until now. “No.”
“Never?” he said, shifting to get a better look at her. His brows drew together in displeasure. “Surely a beautiful woman like yourself would have had flowers from a man?”
“You think I’m beautiful?”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, “Yes, my sweet. You are very beautiful.”
Her heart lurched with happiness. No, not just happiness. This feeling was something deeper, more meaningful. Not because he thought she was beautiful, but it was in his tone, the way he had spoken the words, as if she were the most important being on this earth to him.
“Pick a flower.”
She was dumbfounded. What did women like? She’d seen roses before, but she never paid any attention to them. “I do like yellow. So, maybe…yellow roses?”
“Alright,” he said. “Yellow roses it is.”
“Tell me about your childhood in Boston.”
She felt a tightness in her stomach. Was it wise to share this with him? She kept her entire life private, one lie after another. To be honest, it was exhausting living this way. “My life isn’t that complicated,” she admitted as a matter of fact. “I was told my mother died soon after giving birth to me. I never knew my father.”
“Who took care of you while you were growing up?”
Whores in flash houses. This topic was making her discomfited. “If you don’t mind, I don’t care to relive my past.”
“I simply want to know how you came to be—”
“A thief? A murderer?”
He frowned and pulled away. “I didn’t say that.”
“I think my time here has expired.”
“Hold on a minute,” he demanded. “Why are you angry with me, Kate? If you don’t want to discuss this, just say so.”
“I did,” she said. “But you insisted on it as I recall.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
She was incapable of intimacy. “Just so that there isn’t any misunderstanding between us, I don’t need you rescuing me. I am a capable woman and I can take care of myself.”
“I never said you needed rescuing.”
“I need to go,” she said, and walked away from him and out of the room. Without stopping, she briskly walked into her room, plopped on her bed, and sobbed in her pillow.
CHAPTER 11
Standing in front of the Foundling Hospital, Kate realized she had made up her mind already, so why she so reluctant about it? The many times she had decided to leave a family, a town, it was never this hard.
She couldn’t stay in London any longer.
Simple.
Or at least it should be. She didn’t want to dwell on why that wasn’t so simple for her any longer. It was a useless waste of time for her, because she only had one option.
She would have to make the arrangements. Even as she thought about details of her plan, she felt this sense of loss. This deep sense of longing to stay.
She needed to make Johnathan believe there was nothing left for him here and that justice had been served in his eyes.
She had to die.
That was the only way Johnathan would leave London and return to Boston for good. To know that she got what she deserved, at least in his eyes.
Mr. Roberts would be safe, and he could continue to do what was right and be with his family where he should be, instead of with her. Johnathan would have no reason to make anyone’s life miserable, or feel the need to seek justice for his brother’s death.
The runner and the marshal had nearly killed each other yesterday because of her. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to Roberts. And as much as Johnathan detested her, they had a history she could not ignore. In order for their history to dissolve, she needed to die. There was nothing good to come of her being here anymore, she told herself again to solidify her resolution.
She felt her heart go numb and a sense of distancing herself for the choice she made, to leave people whom she had come to know and cared for.
A passerby smiled at her and she gave a polite nod, then she looked back at the building. At the beginning of the Season, she had anonymously donated a large sum to the hospital after meeting some older children and the wonderful nurses that lived and served the orphaned children here.
A cause that she wanted to support.
Perhaps this was what connected her to Amelia when they met many years ago. As they shared this need to connect to something they both lacked in their lives, they’d bonded as friends. Amelia had a husband now and children to fill her days with laughter, but this knowledge somehow made her feel more lonesome than ever before.
Loneliness wasn’t foreign to her. It had always been with her. Some days were harder than others, but ever since she volunteered at this hospital and with Amelia leaving for the holiday, she had been feeling a void in her life.
A void that was hard to describe and infinitely harder to feel.
Was it the baby she had lost? A nameless and faceless baby that had somehow touched her heart, her life.
As ludicrous as it was, she had wanted a family so desperately to call her own. That much she was willing to admit.
When she discovered she was with a child at the tender age of sixteen, she was hopeful. The young man had promised her the world, but she quickly learned that he would have said anything to take her virginity. This too wrecked what little hope she had clung to. Then Johnathan had found her again soon after she lost the baby and took her back home with him.
She had shamefully run away from the only people that had tried to help her. It was a regret she couldn’t undo. But if she stayed here, her friends would surely suffer for her mistakes.
She was doing this for the people she cared about and to find the purpose she needed to keep going. She thought about working for the orphanage in India, somewhere far, far away where everyone was a stranger and she could start over.
The heaviness in her heart stilled her. Holding back the tears, she allowed herself the moment to feel the privation that too weighed on her heart.
Footfalls alerted her. Quickly quelling her emotions, she looked back to see Mr. Roberts coming toward her with a cane and a slight limp. Why wouldn’t he follow a simple instruction?
“What are you doing here?” she said, facing him. “You should be resting.”
“My ankle feels a lot better today.”
“Why do I not believe you?” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. When he said nothing, she lifted her eyes to look at his handsome face. The cuts and bruises were beginning to heal, and the color was coming back to his flesh.
She fought a smile. “How did you find me?” No one knew she was here; in fact she made sure she was not followed by taking an extended route and stopped at Bond Street before arriving here.
“I’m not having you followed,” he replied.
“That is good to know,” she said.
“I saw you here the last time you came to visit the children on my way to Newgate.”
She didn’t like this revelation. While she couldn’t think of any reason as to why, she wanted to kee
p this part of her life private.
“I had the pleasure of speaking with the head nurse,” he admitted.
She glared at him questioningly. “Why did you do that?” she said, her tone curt.
“Calm yourself, Ms. McBride,” he started. “I wasn’t looking for incriminating information, if that is what you are concerned with.”
Something had distinctly changed between them. It was in his tone, and she understood. She had abruptly walked out of his room in the middle of the conversation.
It was far easier to think of him as a Bow Street Runner who was only doing this as a favor, and not someone who had kissed her desperately. Oh God, did she remember. She deliberately reminded herself he was trained to catch criminals, and she had spent most of her life running from runners.
Yes, get that through your head, Kate. Nothing good could come of this and you already made your choice.
“There is no shame in coming here.”
“I am not ashamed,” she remarked almost defensively. “I simply prefer to keep my affairs private.”
“I think you are doing a good thing for these children,” he whispered in her ear. When she made no reply, he continued. “We need to talk about this witness. The American’s witness is eventually going to be here.” He paused and turned to face her. “You need to tell me everything about this enterprise of yours and of your friendship with Ethan.”
“I have already—”
“Lord Blackthorn filled me in on your past history with the American, so there isn’t any reason to hold back now.”
She bit her lip. Why was she surprised? While she trusted Roberts, she had no wish to do this now. “If he filled you in on what we discussed, then there isn’t anything more to say.” Considering she was planning to die, this wasn’t helping.
“I made a promise to Blackthorn to keep you safe, Kate, and I always keep my word.”
“Must you keep repeating that?” Kate said, irritated. “I understand you are doing this as a favor to his lordship. You needn’t remind me any longer, Mr. Roberts.”
He frowned at her words. “He won’t be satisfied until he gets what he wants.”
She sighed heavily. “I can take care of myself.”
His expression hardened. “He is dangerous. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is here unofficially.”
“What do you mean?”
“He never said he had orders to take you back, not that that would be an easy task. We have laws in England. The US marshal would need to have a warrant from the President of the United States indicating that you are a fugitive and on the run.” He paused. “Did he tell you he has a warrant for your arrest?”
“No,” she said.
“So that leaves me to wonder if there is something else going on here that I don’t know about.”
“Such as?” she said.
“You are lovers?” he said. “He seems quite passionate about taking you back home.”
His expression was hard and focused. Passionate? Lovers? Was he mad? If anything, their relationship was akin to sister and brother. Or rather employer and employee until his mother had taken it upon herself to take her under her wings and educate her. “Surely, you are not jealous?”
“I am serious. Has he come here to take you home? Did you run from him for some reason I don’t know about?”
She chuckled. “You’ve got to be jesting. It isn’t love, Mr. Roberts,” she said. “He’s angry because his brother is dead. Because his wife and baby passed away. He is hurting, deeply, and he wants retribution.” She paused and watched his expression. “I have already told you.” Roberts was jealous and there was part of her that was fleetingly happy. She saw it in his eyes, even though he was denying it. Her heart ached to touch him, to put his doubt to rest. “You must know, there is nothing between Johnathan and me.”
“You swear it?”
“Yes,” she said. He looked relieved once she affirmed this.
“Do you think Ethan had enemies?”
Ethan had a good heart and wouldn’t hurt a fly. In fact, she wondered at times if he and Johnathan had the same parents. “Everyone loved Ethan, and if he had enemies, I didn’t know about them.”
“Tell me exactly what happened the last time you saw him. You said you attended a party together that evening, and he escorted you home.”
“It was uneventful,” she started. “I didn’t want to go, but I had promised him I would attend the ball with him and his mother. We remained at the ball until half past ten and Ethan escorted me home. I had revealed to him that evening that I was leaving for Scotland.”
“What about his mother?”
“Ethan had escorted her home earlier, I believe soon after we arrived. She had suffered a headache. After that, he returned to the ball.”
“And his lover?”
Dread showered over her. “What lover?”
“I know Ethan was to meet up with his lover that night.”
“Daniel,” she slowly said, lowering her gaze. “I guess his lordship told you everything.”
“How do you know it wasn’t him that murdered Ethan?”
“Because they were very much in love. Daniel’s a very gentle soul and wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“What about Daniel’s family?”
“I don’t know anything about his family. He never spoke of them and I never asked.”
“I fear Johnathan may attempt to reach out to you again, so I think I should accompany you from now on.”
“There is no need for such drastic measures, Mr. Roberts. You are already a guest at the Blackthorn Hall. I think that is more than sufficient,” she said.
“We can never be too careful,” he firmly said. “I won’t take no for an answer. I have an appointment that I must attend to alone after I escort you home, but I will be at your disposal once I return.”
“At my disposal?” At her disposal, huh? Oh, how at times she wished they would have met under a different circumstance. “And how do you exactly plan to protect me when you are injured?”
“I am quite capable, Ms. McBride,” he said firmly.
Stubborn man, she thought, shaking her head. Then she recalled he was quite capable with her when he touched her, wasn’t he? The thought made her want to do wild things to him, to sit on his lap and run her fingers down his trousers and feel his firm cock in her hand.
The man was perplexing. One minute he looked as though he wanted to rip the clothes off her and make love to her, and other times he behaved as though he never wanted to see her again.
Shaking off the images his words had conjured up, she cleared her head. She needed to speed up the plan and she only had minimal time to do so. She needed to find a way to occupy his time and his sprained ankle was the perfect excuse.
~ ~ ~
Roberts rested his head and listened to the hooves on the cobble on his way to Newgate.
He sighed in frustration. His body ached, and it hurt to breathe. But the thought that the American got what he deserved made it worthwhile. Damn, it felt good to beat the pulp out of him.
He lifted his leg and rested it on the other seat to ease the swelling of his ankle. The lower part of his ankle had turned blue and purple this morning, and his boot nearly didn’t fit. Hell, he felt crippled. At two and thirty, he was getting too old for this.
The time was running out. The last time he spoke with his assistant at Bow Street, he didn’t have any news to give him. He’d need to get this matter resolved within a month as he had nearly depleted his life savings to hold off on the trial; as it was, the barrister wasn’t cheap. He had hoped to bring his mother some good news. All the investigation was to no avail.
When he arrived at Newgate, he was brought to his mother’s cell for a fifteen-minute visit. Watching her in here in the tiny cell was excruciating. He’d done as much as he could to make it pleasant for her, but this was no life for anyone.
“What has happened to you?” his mother said, alarmed as she noticed his cane and his marked
face.
“It looks much worse than it feels.”
“Come closer.”
He hesitated, but he abided by his mother’s wishes. She touched his face with her cold hands through the bars. She touched the cut below his eye, his cheek. She bit her lip, fighting back the tears.
“Who did this to you?”
“It’s not important.”
“How can you say such things to me? Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“No,” he said. “We don’t have much time. Take this,” he said, picking up a package from the floor and handing it to her through the bars. She looked as though she hadn’t had a bath in weeks. He didn’t like the warden going through the packages he brought for his mother with his filthy hands, but it was a necessary procedure.
“What is this?”
“Fresh clothes,” he said. “I arranged for you to have a bath later today.”
She nodded, tearing up. “You are too good to me. Even after what they accused me of…of…”
“I read the letter.” He paused. It took him awhile, but he read it. “There is no offense in defending yourself.”
“Even so, I… I wished him gone,” she whispered, her lips quivering.
The two of them watched each other without saying a word. He noticed, even in this darkened cell, the lines under her dark eyes and her dull complexion. Her eyes watered and she wiped the tears away, shaking her head.
“I so wanted to give you everything. I feared he’d beat you too. Thank God he didn’t.”
She was right, his father never touched him. Still, any man who put his hands on a woman deserved a hell of a beating. His father had been a bully and a cruel man. The only reason his father had stopped beating his mother was because he’d threatened to kill him if he touched her again.
It wasn’t his only threat to him. When he advised his mother to come live with him, she refused. He could never understand why.
Roberts knew now.
His mother explained in the letter that if she left him, his father would come after him.
Roberts fisted his hands so tight, his nails dug into his flesh. He’d wished his father had come after him.