Magdalene forgot her own problems when she heard this report. Someone had beat him because he didn’t want to try to sell papers during a riot? She bit her lip hard to distract herself from tears.
“How would you like to live here, Eddy?” Judah asked.
Had she heard him right? A marquess’s brother, adding a ragged newsboy to his household?
“Where’s this?” Eddy asked.
“My house. I live here.”
“Does Miss Cross live ’ere, too?”
Judah shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. She is leaving London.”
Magdalene felt hot all over for a moment. He still wanted her, even though she had rejected him. Why couldn’t he want the life she deserved, that they both did, as a part of fashionable Society?
“It’s for the best,” Eddy said. “In my experience, once a man starts ’ittin ’e’s unlikely to stop.”
“My brother has stopped drinking,” she said defensively.
“For now,” Eddy said, with an air of philosophy. “Don’t trust ’im, miss, that’s my advice.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. Was Eddy right? Was it safe to stay until Christmas? Redcake’s needed her, and she could use the travel money, but her home would be so dreary this year and maybe even as dangerous as Eddy’s home was.
“Do you owe this Highmark any money?” Judah said.
“Yes, for the papers and my pallet and food.”
“Does anyone ever escape his accounting?” Judah asked.
“Not unless they leave London,” Eddy said. “And no one ever does.”
“Does he get mail anywhere?”
“No. Least I don’t think so.”
“I’ll take him what he claims you owe if you agree to live here,” Judah said. “How much?”
The boy wiped his lip on a napkin, leaving a streak of blood, and started on another bun. “Four shillings would do it, but you don’t want to go there, Captain. Don’t let ’em see your face.”
“The Italian has already seen me.”
“Give ’im the money,” Eddy cried, frustrated. “ ’e’s an ’onest sort for an Italian.”
“It’s probably close to a week’s wages for the man,” Magdalene said doubtfully.
“It’s worth a try,” Judah said. “But I won’t go today. Tomorrow. I’ll look for him on the way to work. Is he always in the same place?”
Eddy nodded and inhaled his third bun. “If I’m not ’ome tonight, I’ll get a beating.”
“Do you have anything of value there?” Judah asked.
“No.”
“Then you shouldn’t worry. Penny, could you dish up a bowl of soup for the lad, then figure out how we can kit out the second bedroom for him?”
Penny looked at him like he’d gone mad, but she ladled pea soup into a bowl and placed it in front of Eddy, then went down the hall, muttering. Magdalene had the same feeling. The second bedroom? For a newsboy. She liked Eddy very much, but in helping him, she’d thought vaguely of finding him work indoors, or even a charity school somewhere, not taking him in.
Hours passed before she had a minute alone with Judah. Eventually, the day had worn Eddy down, and they tucked him into a small bed in the second bedroom, then tiptoed down to the parlor. Judah lit the fire and Magdalene brought in the tray they’d readied.
“No raisin buns,” Judah said mournfully.
“We’ll get by with this shortbread Penny found.”
“That’s right.” Judah grinned in a way that made him look not that much older than Eddy.
“It’s very Christian of you to take Eddy in, but what are you going to do with him now?” Magdalene asked. “Give him a job at Redcake’s?”
“I think he should stay out of the public eye for a time,” Judah said. “He needs to heal.”
Magdalene poured the tea, drinking in the sight of his broad shoulders and beautiful, strangely colored eyes. She knew she would see him in her dreams for the rest of her life, wherever circumstances took her.
“I shall hire him a tutor,” Judah declared. “I know he can read; newsboys like to argue the politics of their own papers. A little more education and perhaps he can become a writer himself. That’s how Dickens began his career.”
She shook herself out of her sensual reverie. “You think he is going to become Dickens?”
Judah grinned. Oh, he was handsome. Her stomach seemed to drop into her knees and she knew she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite of shortbread.
“He has intelligence and wit. I think he has a good future if he’s educated properly.”
“He won’t be happy shut up here. He’s used to the streets.”
“It’s not the path to a long life,” Judah said. “He deserves better.”
“But in your home? A bachelor establishment?”
“Since you refused me, you have no say in my establishment, Magdalene.”
“Miss Cross,” she corrected. “I know I do not. But you are bound to have clashes. This is not the life he was raised for.”
Judah set his jaw. “I’ll not have you claiming superiority of blood to someone like me, who does not know his own blood.”
“I’m not,” she started, but met his glare and subsided. Why couldn’t he see that his parentage didn’t matter? He was legally the son of the late Lord Hatbrook, and on his mother’s side, the grandson of an earl. Far superior to wherever Eddy Jackson came from. With a name like that, he should be a prizefighter or some such. “I have his best interests in mind.”
Penny came into the room. “The carriage is here, Captain.”
“Just in time,” Judah said. The light of battle had yet to leave his eyes.
“Please do not think ill of me. I cannot express how relieved I am that he is safe,” she said.
He took her hand. She hadn’t noticed how cold she was, with the fire barely lit, but his palms were both toasty warm against hers.
“I know. You took a risk this morning coming here, one I’d have preferred you not take. I understand what happened to you as a young girl has weighed heavily on your conscience, but I do believe you have paid your karmic debt at last. Eddy will live because of you.”
“Karmic debt?”
“It is an Oriental philosophy. You have done a good deed to offset a bad one, or so the Hindoos say.”
She didn’t really understand, so she said, “I will get my coat and bonnet and be on my way.”
He took her hand. “Still friends? I will see you tomorrow?”
“Will it be safe to go on the Square?”
“I will take a cab to your house.”
She hesitated, and he said, “No proposal this time. You have made your position clear.”
“I am so very fond of you, Captain Shield. I am honored. Perhaps if I had not received what amounts to an offer sanctioned by my family first, I might have answered differently.”
He licked his bottom lip, his eyelashes dusting his lower lashes. “It makes no difference. A no is a no.”
“You are very logical today.”
“I apologize.”
She knew she had made a terrible mess of their friendship and had no idea what to say, so she forced a smile and went out of the parlor, then ran down the hall to the kitchen, as if she could escape her conflicting emotions.
Despite the chaos on the streets, she found a pile of mail on the hallway table when she entered her house. As she removed her coat and hat, she noted all was silent inside, though she could still hear the distant noise of people outside. She had been very grateful to travel home in a closed carriage with footmen to guard her.
Her house, though quiet, did not smell clean, like a place with adequate servants. A hint of dust, a hint of unwashed body, the fish Hetty must have cooked today, drifted unappetizingly through the house and puddled in the hallway next to the front stairs. The huge gap under the kitchen door let out the food smells, but they could not afford to replace it.
Too tired for a conversation or tea, she lit a candle stub and
took her letters upstairs. A loud snore emanated from George’s room. All was darkness under Manfred’s door. He had moved down from the attic to the room Nancy had stayed in during her illness, and must not have returned from his secret errand.
Magdalene unlocked her door and put her candle on her dressing/writing table, a scratched and battered affair. Upstairs their furnishings were a poor lot, but like many families, they saved their best for the public rooms while the private only had tattered castoffs. Soon, she would leave poverty behind for the life of the moneyed class. Even leaving London did not seem such a trial on a day like this. Surely Harrogate was free of anarchists and rioters.
She lit her fire and exchanged her boots for slippers, then sat with her letters before changing for bed. After she’d finished reading, she wished she’d saved the missive from Lady Bricker for morning. Now she was being instructed to go to the home of Lady Varney, her friend Constance’s employer, rather than Lady Bricker’s own home. Why? Was she being offered employment instead of a husband?
Either way, she thought it was time to leave. She needed to escape her brother’s home, the employment she enjoyed far too much for a girl on the marriage mart, the man who made her tingle and yearn, even as he steadily made one decision after another that lowered him on the social ladder.
She had to admit though, even the furnishings of his second bedroom were nicer than anything George possessed. Though Judah’s house had no feminine touches, she suspected he lived better than they did, and his clothes were nicer too. He had two servants. It was at least as clean as hers had been when Nancy had been alive and they had kept house together.
She shook her head. Harrogate, that was her release. Not Judah. Please, she prayed. Let the baronet have something of Judah’s charm, intelligence, and good looks. All of it is far too much to ask, but please, something.
“How are your plans for Yorkshire coming along?” Judah asked as he sat next to her in the hansom the next morning. Asking was like reopening a wound, but he couldn’t help picking at it.
“I had a letter from my cousin and I scratched out a reply this morning for Hetty to post.”
He noted she was biting her lip, instead of the hot apple he’d given her. Little puffs of cold air emitted from her lips with each breath and she was pale again. “All is in order?”
“Mmmm,” she said, not really responding.
“Did I do something to anger you?” After her level of engagement yesterday, he’d expected more questions and concerns.
Her blue eyes caught a flash from the lanterns. “No, of course not. How is Eddy?”
“Chafing at the bit. He wants to be out selling papers, not stuck inside a cozy home having a peaceful morning of buns and tea.” He took a bite of his apple, and enjoyed the heat of it.
“You’ll have to pay that Italian today.”
“It is already done,” Judah said, pointing to their apples. “I went to the Square first.”
She took a small bite. “I hope he gives that horrible man his money.”
“He seemed very concerned about Eddy. I think he will do the right thing.”
The bite of apple seemed to go down the wrong way, for Magdalene started coughing. Judah put his hand on her back, alarmed, but the coughing subsided. “You are nervous this morning, Magdalene. Usually you are the steady sort.”
“Yesterday did try my nerves on many levels,” she admitted. “And that is Miss Cross.”
He laughed and stroked her back. “I do not think I could see you as Miss Cross anymore.”
“Soon enough you will refer to me as Lady Feathercote,” she said. He detected the hint of snarl in her voice and preferred it to nerves.
“What a name,” he said lightly, to disguise his hurt. “I much prefer Cross or even better, Magdalene Shield.”
The carriage rattled into the brick alley and bounced to a stop before she could speak. Judah unlatched the door and held it for her. She lifted her nose into the air and walked in the door in front of him, punishing him for his cheek.
“Off you go, cake wallah,” he said. Thumping came from the office staircase.
She turned to him, but before he could speak, Ewan Hales had appeared in front of them, after a mad dash that included leaping down stairs, if Judah was any judge. He had never seen the man excited.
“What is it, Mr. Hales?” Judah asked. Had influenza struck Redcake’s? Or anarchists?
Magdalene stepped around the secretary and disappeared down the steps.
“There’s a man here to see you, Captain, from the docks!”
Judah’s hands tingled in anticipation and relief. “Did he mention a ship?”
Hales nodded enthusiastically. “He did. Your ship!”
Judah grinned, suspecting he revealed every single one of his teeth. He dashed up the stairs, Hales’s pounding steps following him. “Fetch tea, Hales, and some cakes.”
The anteroom was empty, but in his office he saw a man standing in the pose of a sea officer, legs spread wide to steady himself against the roll of the sea, hands clasped behind his back to keep from bumping anything on a crowded ship. Judah recognized the imposingly tall form, the black-as-midnight hair, far too long for fashion.
“Captain Howard,” he exclaimed.
The man turned, and Judah was reminded anew by the mythical stature of the man. He must be nearly seven feet tall and dressed in the style of some seventy years ago, tight breeches and tall boots. His boots would cover the entire leg of most women.
Judah had to admit the old-fashioned style revealed the admirable physique of the man and hoped Hales had got him up to the office before the cakies spotted him. They’d find him a common sort once they spotted Howard.
“I would imagine, by your appearance, that the Fleetfoot has docked.”
“Our fortunes are made,” the captain agreed. “We had some trouble with pirates in the Arabian Sea, and then weather difficulties around the Cape, which slowed us down. Had to stop along the Ivory Coast for repairs twice.”
“Is your ship salvageable?”
“Yes. The benefit of your merchandise being so long at sea is your lordly partner made arrangements to sell the goods. He is already at the dock with a variety of middlemen. You should have your funds before the holidays.”
Judah felt like he did after battle, a combination of exhaustion and exhilaration, unsure if he should go to a church and fall to his knees, or make love to a woman until he collapsed on top of her. “That is good news.”
Captain Howard pulled a small pouch from his belt and tossed it to Judah. “Each partner receives one of these. You can sell them or have them set for your woman.”
Judah opened the pouch and let the gleaming blue stones fall into his palm. “Sapphires.”
“Enough for a parure.”
The stones matched Magdalene’s eyes. A pity. Maybe they matched Beth’s as well? No, she probably had all their mother’s jewels. His stones would best be saved for his future wife, but she seemed far off in the future. His heart wanted no one but Magdalene.
When Hales arrived with the tray, they sat and discussed the voyage in more detail.
An hour later, they shook hands, and Judah said, “Thank you, Captain. I am certain you have much to do.”
“One more partner to visit,” the giant agreed.
Judah promised to visit the docks for a tour that afternoon. Hales came in the moment Howard left, too excited to knock. He exclaimed over the stones. When Hales had left, Judah went down the stairs to put his pouch into the safe in Accounting.
Dash it all, he could bring Magdalene up and show her the stones. Would they sway her from her Feathercote? At least they would show her he was far from poor. He dropped the stones into his pocket and turned to go downstairs to the Fancy.
Would a token like these prove his love to her? He could compromise a little on lifestyle, now that he had the funds. Go to Society parties sometimes, purchase a fine home. He could afford to dress her properly, far more finely than
she dressed now. His gamble had paid off, or rather, his investment. He couldn’t wait to write to Hatbrook.
When he reached the main floor, he was about to cross the hall to the steps to the basement, when he heard arguing voices just outside the employee door into the bakery. He needed to intervene immediately. The voices were loud enough that customers might be able to hear.
A woman started crying. Concerned, he sped up. He recognized Betsy Popham, wiping her eyes on her apron. In front of her was her father. Was this a family dispute?
“You knew she wasn’t to work the counter,” Ralph Popham was saying. “Were you trying to force her out?”
“I didn’t think, honest!”
“Now you’ve ruined a nice young lady’s reputation, and lost Captain Shield a good employee to boot, during a busy season. He ought to sack you!”
“Now, now,” Judah said. “What is all this fuss?”
“Captain,” Popham said, clearly relieved to see him.
Betsy gave a loud theatrical cry and flung herself into Judah’s arms. Horrified, he pushed her back at arm’s length. “Get ahold of your nerves, Miss Popham. This is no place for the vapors.”
She sniffled, suddenly much quieter. Judah didn’t want to try to make sense of her, so he looked to Popham for information.
“Please explain yourself,” Judah said.
“Miss Cross has left her employment,” Popham said, running his hands through his thinning hair. “It is all my daughter’s fault, I am afraid. I came in late this morning because I was visiting with Sir Bartley about some factory supply issues for the bakery. We were shorthanded.”
“What does this have to do with Miss Cross?” he demanded.
“Betsy insisted the young lady come up here to fill in. They both worked at the counter for an hour. I was gone, and two of the girls have the influenza.”
He barely heard the dreaded word. “Then what happened?”
“Lady somebody-or-other recognized Miss Cross and made quite a to-do. She couldn’t decide which was more scandalous, Miss Cross working while she was in mourning for her sister-in-law, or her working when she was on the Society marriage mart. Said she’d have her struck from every guest list she had access to.”
One Taste of Scandal Page 23