by Wendy Vella
“But you cannot think of any?” At least she was honest, Jacob thought as she shook her head. “My colleagues suggested I ask you, Miss March. The idea was not mine.”
“B-but they don't know me.”
“No, but I do.”
Her eyes widened. “Not very well, and to trust someone with something so secretive who would come in contact with delicate information, surely you are taking quite a risk.”
“I am an excellent judge of character, everyone says so.”
“Who says so?”
“Do you ever just accept things, Miss March?” Jacob found himself laughing again. The woman was infuriating. At least her color had returned, although she still looked drawn.
“No, I have always found it best to question things.” She frowned as the carriage slowed. “The carriage is stopping, my lord.”
“So it is. Come along then.”
“Come along where?”
Jacob stepped down and wondered again what it was about this woman that made him want to look after her. He’d hated seeing her in that tiny, cold room, alone and hurting. Hated that because of that bastard Lord Revel, she was forced into work at a brothel, as she could not secure work as a companion. Surely it would pass; perhaps he was simply feeling guilty as his position was so vastly different than hers. Or perhaps because she challenged him to look at the life he had always taken for granted.
“Into the house.”
He climbed down then turned to help her. Her good hand gripped his briefly and then released.
“Don't tarry, it's icy out here, and you have come out without your bonnet and gloves.”
“Not by choice, my lord.”
He had no answer for that.
“I'm not going anywhere else with you until you tell me why we are at present standing outside this large house.”
Her head was hurting her, her fingers no doubt ached, but she was not budging. He had to admire her for that. Not many people questioned Jacob, especially people like her.
“This is my house, and I am calling the doctor here at once to see to you.”
“I told you I would go to the clinic!”
She was glaring at him, her eyes shooting sparks.
“No need to now.”
She gave him a final glare, and Jacob thought he may have won, and then she turned and started walking the other way. He looked skyward—he thought snow was only minutes away—and wondered why his good deeds for this woman were constantly being rejected. Surely he was only doing what anyone else would? So why then was she refusing to yield?
She was halfway up the street by the time he caught her.
“Why will you not let me help you?”
He didn't attempt to stop her, just fell in beside her and kept pace.
“Why do you want to?”
He didn't know how to answer that, because in all honesty he'd never behaved as he was right now.
“Is it so wrong that because I have so much I want to help someone who has fallen on hard times?”
Her footsteps faltered, and then with a sigh she stopped to face him.
“My lord, you have to understand that to someone such as I, your intentions are unusual, and to be questioned. Why would a man such as you want to help a woman such as I?”
Why indeed.
“Can it not be goodwill? Can I not help you in the name of a charitable act?” Jacob realized the minute he said the word charitable that it had been the wrong choice. Her shoulders snapped back, chin raised higher. If it elevated any further, she'd be looking skyward.
“I have no need of your charity.” Her words were scathing, and any society matron would have been proud of the delivery.
“Yes,” he said softly, “you do. Now please be quiet and come along. You are shivering, and your lips are turning blue.” Jacob didn't want to talk about this anymore, as it was unsettling how much he needed to help her.
“Unhand me!”
“Stop being dramatic, Poppy. It's bloody freezing out here, and I have no wish to spend a moment longer outside than is necessary.”
Jacob kept his fingers around her arm and gently propelled her forward. Her hand, he noticed, was cradled against her stomach.
“Your fingers probably need straightening; did you think of that? Do you want them to be crooked for the remainder of your life?”
“They have no need of attention, only time to heal.”
“Oh, so you're a doctor now, are you?”
She huffed out a breath, which even on short acquaintance he knew was her annoyed sound.
They arrived at his front path in time to see one of the other Lords of Night Street arriving with his wife. They had been seen, so Jacob could do nothing but keep walking with the angry woman at his side. There would be questions, he knew, but given that he'd decided she would be working for them, he supposed he'd best face them now.
“Jacob.”
“Marcus.” He shook the hand of his friend.
“Hello, Jacob.” Charlotte kissed his cheek. She had been born the bastard daughter of a duke, and spent most of her life fighting that fact. She was a woman who had chosen a different path in her life, and it was during the course of an investigation that Marcus had met her, and they had since fallen in love and married.
“Allow me to introduce you to Miss March. Miss March, this is Lord and Lady Needly.”
Poppy curtseyed, sinking deep.
“Tea, I think,” Charlotte said, shooting him a look. Obviously Marcus had furnished his wife with the details of Jacob's encounters with Poppy.
“Oh no, I really need to go home,” Poppy said, attempting to escape. However, she did not manage it, and soon Charlotte had taken Poppy in hand and was walking beside her and into Jacob's house.
“So.” Marcus walked beside Jacob. “This is Miss March. Care to tell me why she is alone with you, because I see no maid or companion.”
“She does not have a maid, Marcus.”
“Of course, I should have realized that. Tell me then why she is here alone with you, about to enter your house?”
“I went to inform her about what we had discovered about Lady Revel, and offer her the position at Night Street, only to find her hurt. I said I would help her to a doctor. There is no more to it than that. She had no maid, Marcus, and lives alone.”
“Hmmmm.”
“I have no idea what that noise means, but I'm sure I don't like it.”
They followed the ladies into his house. Jacob was not one for clutter, and as he had lived alone for many years, he had only his sister as an influence, and had fought off her advances to decorate his home, so it stayed exactly as he wanted it to be.
“This place is cold and sterile, Jacob. You should put more stuff on the walls.”
“You're only saying that because you're married and have to live with whatever Charlotte chooses to do to your home. I, however, can live exactly as I wish.”
“Charlotte has excellent taste.”
“If she asked you to wear mud brown and pomade your hair into a chicken cone on your head, you'd do it. You're smitten, Marcus.”
His friend smiled, and it was a secretive one, the kind he'd noticed happily married people often had on their faces. A knowing look that spoke of love and intimacies.
“I am.”
“I am happy for you, but don't bring your happily married tendencies into my bachelor establishment, if you please.”
“How did Miss March come to hurt herself?”
“Someone attempted to abduct her, but she escaped.” Anger clipped his words.
Marcus whistled. “She can certainly look after herself.”
“But for how long?”
“That I don’t know,” Marcus said. “But the sooner we find who is responsible, the better it will be for her.”
They arrived in the parlor, where the fire was roaring. His furniture matched the brown rugs on his floor, and was comfortable, which suited him perfectly.
“You need some color in
here, Jacob.”
“Thank you, Charlotte, your husband has just enlightened me on the state of my interior.”
Poppy had been put in the seat closest to the fire and was attempting to not warm herself, but doing just that. She was so close, he feared she may catch alight.
“Take off your coat, Miss March.”
“I am quite comfortable with it on, thank you, my lord.”
“But when you leave you will not get the benefit.”
“As I will be leaving shortly, I'm sure I shall be fine, thank you.”
“You will not be leaving shortly, and when you do eventually leave, you will not be walking.”
Her mouth pursed.
“I will be leaving soon,” she said, shooting a look at Marcus and Charlotte, who were watching them closely. “And I am quite all right to walk about London as I am. In fact, I shall call a hackney.”
She thought she had him there.
“You have no money.”
“Jacob, that's not very nice,” Marcus said.
“He's not very nice,” Poppy said, her eyes still focused on him. “He's bossy, and... and—”
“Come now, I'm sure you can do better than bossy, Poppy,” Jacob said in a pleasant voice. “After all, what have I done? No wait, I know. I have said I would look into your concern for Lady Revel. Attempted to get you medical help. Oh, and then there was the job offer, and the tea and scones I purchased for you.”
“Why does she need medical help?”
“I'm sure Poppy will enlighten you as to why she needs medical help, Charlotte.”
Mulish was the only description for her expression. He just bet she was the stubbornest of her siblings, and had led her parents on a merry dance through her childhood.
“I had a slight accident.”
Jacob snorted. “Someone attempted to abduct her, she fought back, and fell. Her fingers were twisted and are now quite swollen, and I would guess, extremely painful. She also has a nasty lump on the back of her head.”
Charlotte got to her feet and moved to where Poppy stood.
“Do let me see them, Miss March. I have had some practice at looking after sick people.”
“That does not make you an expert, my love,” her husband drawled.
Charlotte ignored him and trapped Poppy in her seat.
“Show me the hand, please.”
“I... oh—”
“Don't fight it, Miss March. My wife will win, believe me.”
Jacob watched Charlotte lift Poppy's hand and study the fingers. As he'd seen them, Jacob kept his distance. Looking at them made him angry, and that made him uncomfortable.
“Oh, my dear Miss March, these must be giving you considerable pain.”
“They are not too bad.”
“She has been going to work with them also. Miss March is cleaning in a brothel at the present time, Charlotte,” Jacob said, watching Poppy. She looked horrified that he'd told his friends. “I have offered her temporary employment with us, helping Perkins. She lost her position with Lady Revel, and was dismissed without a reference.”
“Oh dear, that cannot have been fun. I have been in a few brothels, and I can assure you they are no place for a lady such as yourself.”
Jacob snorted as Poppy's mouth fell open.
“I-I…. You have been into a brothel, my lady?”
“My wife ran a house for prostitutes in need of support. She would go into brothels to collect woman if they needed help.”
Poppy snapped her mouth shut at Marcus's words, then hissed as Charlotte prodded a sore finger.
“I don't believe they are broken, just badly bruised, Miss March. But it would pay you to try not to use them. Perhaps a sling will help there.”
“Of course, I shall do that at once, and thank you, my lady.”
She wouldn't use a sling; Jacob would stake his fortune on that.
“Jacob, ring for a maid. We shall get something soft to wrap around the fingers, and a sling.”
He rose to do as he was bid, and ordered tea at the same time. When he returned, Charlotte was standing behind Poppy studying her lump.
“’Tis quite swollen, and I will have something sent to your address to ease the pain, Miss March, as soon as I return home.”
“Oh no... really there is no need. It is improving daily.”
Charlotte would do it, Jacob knew, and he felt relieved that Poppy was receiving care.
“You simply must take the position with the Lords of Night Street, Miss March, and then you can tell me all you learn, as they will not, and Perkins is terribly closemouthed,” Charlotte added after she had returned to her seat.
“I-I don't think I would—”
“Miss March,” Marcus interrupted her. “I am not entirely sure why you are not taking the position, even if it is only temporary until you can find another as a companion. The money will be good, the building is warm and quiet, and Perkins is a pleasant enough fellow, if a little dour. Added to that is the fact you will see little of us.”
Jacob kept quiet and let Marcus persuade her.
“Surely it is a better prospect to start work in daylight hours, Miss March? And not have to be exposed to what I'm sure you have been, working in the brothel?”
“Have you been propositioned, Miss March?”
She nodded at Charlotte's question, as Jacob had known she would. She was too pretty, too innocent and untarnished, not to have had men attempting to coerce her to lie with them. It wasn't a pleasing thought.
“Then take the offer of employment and leave the brothel, before the propositions become more forceful, as you know, given time, they will.”
Her eyes went from Charlotte to Marcus and then Jacob.
“I am independent.”
“Which is I'm sure an admirable trait,” Marcus added. “However, you are not stupid, and we all need help at some stage in our life.”
She found a small smile and it made her look younger, and so sweet Jacob wanted to look away.
“You make it hard for me to refuse.”
“Then don't,” Jacob said. This time she looked at him and smiled. It was the first real one he’d seen her give, and had his friends not been in the room, he had a bad feeling he’d simply have snatched her up and kissed her senseless. Looking away, Jacob knew this had to stop. There would never be anything between them.
“Very well, and thank you. I would be extremely grateful if you would allow me to work for you until I have found another position.”
Jacob didn't show his relief, but it was there. She would be safe now, and where he could keep an eye on her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Poppy had risen early, bathed, and pulled on her best dress. She was pleased to be going to work at such a hospitable hour. Pleased that she would no longer have to fend off men with lecherous intentions, especially that horrid Lord Kinsale. But she was nervous about what was expected of her, and if she could fulfil those expectations. There was also the matter of Lord Hatherton. Lady Needly had told Poppy his name, and she could no longer deny he intrigued her. He had taken up residence inside her head and now seemed lodged there. She’d even dreamed of him last night.
Men did not intrigue Poppy. In fact, most often she thought them fools, but Lord Hatherton made her heart thud hard in her chest—which was why she was rude to him. Poppy didn’t know how to cope with this attraction, so she did so by being awkward. But last night she’d realized that had to stop. After all, because of him, she was about to go to work in an office that in all likelihood would be warm. He had also agreed to investigate this business with Lady Revel, and then there were the carriage rides and tea.
“You, Poppy March, are ungrateful,” she muttered, turning into Night Street. Her parents would be ashamed of her behavior.
He'd taken her home after Lord and Lady Needly had left, and dropped her on her doorstep. This time he had not attempted to kiss her, and for that she was thankful... no, really, Poppy, you were. She now wore a bandage on her finge
rs, and her arm was in a sling, which was extremely annoying, but she could hardly quibble with his direction that she do so, considering they had stopped aching.
Reaching the building Lord Hatherton had given her directions to, Poppy opened the door and entered. From the outside it did not look like the place several affluent lords would frequent, as it was actually rather bland and unappealing. But perhaps that was why. Hadn't Lord Hatherton told her that anonymity was important to them?
Inside was no less inviting, and actually quite plain. Perhaps she could bring some flowers tomorrow? Surely they would not upset anyone. She found a desk with a man who was scratching away over a ledger. He looked up as she approached. Tall and thin, he wore small round spectacles and had a head of gray hair ruthlessly cropped short.
“Good morning, Miss March. My name is Mr. Perkins.”
“Good morning to you, Mr. Perkins.” Poppy smiled.
“I am unsure how much use you will be to me with your arm in that sling, but please place your belongings over there,” he waved to a small cupboard, “then take a seat here beside me, and I shall attempt to teach you what the Lords believe you need to assist me with.”
Poppy's smile fell at the man's words. “It is not my writing hand, and I assure you it will not hinder me at all. I'm sorry if you did not want me here, Mr. Perkins. I would definitely not have accepted the position if I had known I would not be welcomed.”
Surprise showed on his face as she talked, but Poppy rushed on.
“I did not ask for this position, and it was only offered to me as I am at present between positions and in need of work. But I will leave if you would rather I did so, as I do have a position I can go to.” Poppy had her pride, and she would not stay where she was not wanted.
Mr. Perkins sighed. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed the lenses with a cloth he pulled from his top pocket.
“No, it is I who should be sorry, Miss March. Forgive me, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I am merely a grumpy old dog attempting to protect his patch of grass. Please, take off your coat and sit.”
“You don't seem old, Mr. Perkins.” Poppy hurried to do as he bid. “And I should very much like to learn from you, even if my position here is only temporary. Lord Hatherton spoke very highly of you, and one day I may find work in this field, if I cannot find work as a companion again.”