by Wolf, Bree
Rubbing her temple, Caroline couldn’t recall. Unfortunately, lack of sleep was slowly depriving her of her faculties.
“Do you wish for me to leave?” Albert asked, a tinge of concern in his voice as he looked at her. “I assure you I had no intention of trespassing without permission and will abide by your decision without delay.”
Sincerity rested in his pale eyes, and Caroline felt herself smile at him yet again. “It’s all right,” she told him, noting the unease that lingered in his gaze. “I’m not angry with you.” She was angry with Lord Markham, but that was hardly Albert’s fault. “May I ask why he sent you?”
Some of the tension seemed to leave the man’s posture. “He suggested I could lend a hand in the management of the orphanage.”
Caroline’s gaze narrowed. “Did he think me incapable?”
The harshness in her voice made Albert flinch. “Oh, no, Miss Hawkins!” he rushed to assure her. “He merely suggested that…that is…I…” For a moment, Albert looked ready to faint, his arms gesturing wildly as his mouth opened and closed.
“Sit!” Caroline ordered, moving toward him. As he sank into the chair behind the desk, she reached to fill a glass of water, then handed it to him. “Drink this.”
After doing as she’d bid, Albert then inhaled a deep breath, his gaze still wide. “I apologize, Miss. I never meant to…” Again, his mouth opened and closed. Then he sighed, looking exhausted. “I only meant to help.” He swallowed. “For the children.”
Caroline smiled at him. “I’m sure of it. Thank you, Albert.” She looked around the office before returning her gaze to him. “Have you had a chance to look over the ledgers?”
Swallowing, he nodded. “It seems…a large amount of money has been…” Again, he swallowed. “…misplaced.”
Caroline sighed. “Stolen,” she corrected, “by the man previously in charge here.”
Albert’s jaw tensed and his eyes hardened in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible. “That’s outrageous!” he exclaimed, then sat up straighter, his hands reaching for the ledgers. “Has his conduct been reported to the authorities?”
Once again feeling exhausted, Caroline sank into the armchair across from Albert. “I haven’t had the chance.” Besides, she couldn’t very well reveal her close connection to the orphanage. Her father would throw a fit if he found out!
“I see,” Albert mumbled, his gaze flitting across the pages before him. Then it rose to meet hers. “I shall see what I can do,” he paused, “with your permission.”
Caroline smiled at him. “Thank you, Albert. You’re very kind.”
A tinge of red crawled up the man’s cheeks and he quickly dropped his head, focusing his attention on the words on the page.
“I’ll check in again tomorrow,” Caroline told him as she rose to her feet. “Should you need to reach me though, Mary knows how.”
Albert nodded, cast her another one of his tentative smiles and then dropped his gaze back down.
Heading home, Caroline marveled about what to do with the time on her hands. When was the last time that had happened? She couldn’t recall. Another yawn made her realize how tired she was, and so upon returning home, she decided—for the first time since she’d been a child—it was time for a nap.
There would still be time tomorrow to worry about the Black Baron’s intrusion into her life!
Chapter Nineteen
A Burden Shared
A week after Albert had taken over the management of the orphanage, Pierce spotted his little mouse at a ball and he all but sighed in relief when he saw her wide-open eyes, alert and watchful…as they’d been before.
Before she’d exhausted herself with those late-night hours bent over the ledgers of the orphanage.
According to Albert, she’d been displeased to hear that Pierce had sent him to assist her while his failure to inform her of his intentions had displeased Albert. His butler’s nonexistent brows had risen accusingly. He had, however, refrained from voicing his discomposure in any other way.
Chuckling, Pierce had patted the man’s shoulder. “She growls, but she doesn’t bite, old man.”
Still, the news of the orphanage’s financial situation as well as its cause riled Pierce. After she’d fought so valiantly to ensure the children’s home’s well-being, to have the money stolen by a man entrusted to ensure it was devastating. No wonder his little mouse had seemed so out of sorts.
Fortunately, a lack of money could be easily remedied, and so Pierce had set out not two nights later and procured a nice little sum to donate to the orphanage. But how to do so? If he were to hand it to her wearing his mask, she’d never accept it, thinking he’d obtained it by illegal means. Of course, she would be right to think so even though he had been justified in doing as he’d done. However, he could not risk her refusing him.
Following her around at a safe distance, Pierce stopped in his tracks when she suddenly turned and her gaze moved across the crowded room to meet his as though she’d known exactly where to find him. Not even the smallest hint of surprise showed on her face. All that lurked behind those thick spectacles was a deep sense of annoyance.
Pierce couldn’t help but laugh, and he could’ve sworn she rolled her eyes at him because of it. Then she turned and walked out onto the terrace, and Pierce couldn’t shake the feeling that she wanted him to follow.
Striding across the room, Pierce felt his heart beat faster in his chest as anticipation filled him. He hadn’t seen her in over a week and…he’d missed her.
Again.
A slight chill rested in the air although the day’s soft warmth still lingered as he stepped out onto the terrace. It lay almost deserted except for a group of men and women chatting and laughing by the west end. His little mouse stood on the other side, her hands resting on the balustrade as she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the darkened garden beyond and her back turned to him.
“You called,” he whispered as he came to stand beside her, gazing at her soft profile and noting the tension that rested in her shoulders.
Her throat worked but she did not turn to look at him. “Why?” was all she said.
“Why what?” Pierce teased, knowing exactly what she meant.
She drew in a slow breath, and he knew she was fighting to maintain her composure. “Why did you send Albert?”
“Are you saying you don’t like him?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then you do like him,” Pierce concluded with a rather annoyingly triumphant smile, one that had her fingers tense on the stone balustrade.
“Of course, I like him,” she snapped. She spun to face him, her blue eyes shooting daggers even through the thick lenses she hid behind. “I can’t imagine anyone in the world not liking him. He’s such a sweet man. However—”
“However?” Pierce interrupted, moving closer as he grinned at her.
A muscle in her jaw quivered. “However, Albert is not the problem here.”
“Are you saying I’m a problem?” he teased, feeling an almost overwhelming need to reach for her.
His little mouse laughed. Unfortunately, it was a dark laugh, an annoyed laugh. “I’ve asked you this before and I ask it again: what is it that you want?” Her gaze left his for a split second and swept their surroundings, ensuring that no one was within earshot.
“I want to help you,” Pierce replied. He’d meant to say it lightly but the look of doubt, of concern in her eyes cut right down into his heart. His smile vanished, and he reached out to cover her hand with his own.
Instantly, she jerked hers away. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep an appropriate distance, my lord,” she hissed, a hint of fear coming to her blue eyes.
Pierce swallowed, remembering the vulnerability he’d seen in her the night she’d spoken to him without restraint, without pretense. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I told you I would prove myself trustworthy to you, and so I thought I’d help you with what means the most to you.”
&nbs
p; Her gaze narrowed. “But how did you know? I never told you—”
“It was easy enough to see,” he hastened to say before her doubts could lead her down a path that might unearth his own secret. “That day we met outside the orphanage, I knew something was bothering you and so—very discreetly—I made some inquiries.”
Her jaw dropped. “You…why? What…?”
Holding her gaze, Pierce moved closer, his hand once more settling on hers, now limp as though his revelation had drained all strength from her, her skin chilled against his own. “I swear I will not breathe a word of this to anyone,” he whispered imploringly, shocked to realize how much he desired her trust. “What I did, I did to help, to protect you.” He straightened and then reached inside his jacket, retrieving an envelope. “Here, this is for the orphanage.”
Her gaze drifted down to his hand, then followed as he reached out and settled it into her own. “What is this?” she asked. The suspicion that came to her eyes made him want to shake her. Why did she have to be this distrustful?
His brows rose. “You know what it is.”
Her lips thinned as her gaze rose to meet his. “What are you trying to buy?”
Pierce tensed, willing himself to inhale a calming breath before responding. “I’m not trying to buy anything,” he said slowly. “I’m trying to donate money. I thought as the patron of a children’s home, you’d be familiar with the concept.” His gaze moved to hers and lingered. “How else do you usually procure funds? Through donations, or am I mistaken?”
“You’re not,” she admitted, glancing at the envelope in her hand as though she feared it might be poisoned. “However—”
“However?” Pierce pressed, sidling closer in a way that made her lift her chin in order to hold his gaze. “Is it that little embroidery circle of yours? Is that why you seek the company of these old harpies? To influence them?”
Her gaze widened, and he could see a small tremor run down her frame.
Gritting his teeth, Pierce took a step back. “All I want is to help you.”
“Why?”
He huffed out an annoyed breath. “Because I want to.”
“But why?” she insisted stubbornly.
“Because Albert told me you needed it. Why would you accept his help but not mine?”
“He’s a sweet man.”
“So you’ve said.” His brows rose. “And I’m not?”
Oddly enough, a smile teased up the corners of her mouth and he saw her shoulders relax. “No,” she whispered, her gaze lingering in a way that stole the breath from his lungs. “No, you’re not. You’re…”
Holding her gaze, Pierce lowered his head. “I’m what?”
A shuddering breath passed her lips. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “That’s what worries me.” Then, utterly unexpectedly, her gaze narrowed in a way that suggested she’d suddenly realized something that had previously eluded her. “You remind me of someone.”
Pierce tensed. Nevertheless, he could not deny that a part of him was hoping that she would put the pieces together. “Who?”
She frowned, a hint of exasperation coming to her gaze. “I don’t know. I…there’s something in your eyes that…” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Pierce chuckled. “Perhaps we’ve met in a previous life.”
Smiling, she sighed. “Can you not ever be serious?” she chided. The tone in her voice betrayed her amusement.
Pierce loved the lightness that came to her eyes, the deep sigh that left her lips as though she’d finally found a moment to relax.
Here.
With him.
“You should laugh more often,” he whispered. “It becomes you.”
Her gaze lingered on his, and he felt himself tense when the lightness slowly vanished from her eyes, replaced by the familiar tension. “One cannot laugh without reason,” she mumbled, her gaze distant as though she were still trying to puzzle out of whom he reminded her.
Pierce leaned against the balustrade, then cleared his throat. “You spend your days worrying about others,” he said, seeking her gaze. “Why?”
Sighing, she leaned back against the balustrade as well, their arms almost touching. “Someone has to.” The weight of the world seemed to linger on her shoulders, and Pierce could see the effort it took her to continue on. Still, she clearly did not think she had a choice. This was simply who she was, and he loved her for it.
Pierce frowned at the thought. He what? Could it be that…?
His gaze traveled to her bowed head. “Is there no one who would share this burden?” he asked. “Your parents? Or your cousin? A friend perhaps?”
Her head rose and she sighed before she turned to look at him. “My parents have…other aspirations. They would not understand.” Her gaze narrowed in a way suggesting that she could not believe she was telling him this. “In truth, I cannot be certain…whom to trust with this. It is too great a risk. What if…?” Her voice trailed off, and he could see the fear of failure in her eyes, of disappointing all those who counted on her, of disappointing herself.
“But you share this with your lady’s maid,” Pierce replied, determined to chase away the loneliness that lingered in her voice. “Her, you confide in.”
Her jaw dropped ever so slightly. “How…?” Then she nodded. “You saw us that day outside the orphanage. Of course.”
“I did,” Pierce confirmed. “However, it was the look of confidence between the two of you that betrayed the depth of your connection.” He held her gaze. “You trust her. She’s not merely your lady’s maid, is she? She’s your friend.”
His little mouse swallowed, then drew in a shuddering breath, her eyes widening in alarm as she moved a step back.
“You’re so used to not being seen,” Pierce continued, once more closing the distance between them, “that you cannot imagine anyone’s gaze would linger on you for more than a second.”
Her jaw quivered as she looked up at him and her eyes slowly filled with tears behind those thick spectacles.
“I see you,” Pierce whispered as he peeked over the rim of her lenses and sought her gaze. “I see your courage and your determination. I see your selflessness and your compassion. I see all that you are; an extraordinary woman in a world full of…blind fools.” He smiled at her then, wanting nothing more than to lighten her mood.
Blinking back tears, his little mouse chuckled and her gaze dropped from his as she turned away, dabbing at her eyes. For a rare moment, she removed her spectacles, the shackles that kept her hidden in the shadows, and Pierce wanted nothing more than to snatch them from her fingers and toss them far away.
“You’re very observant,” she remarked. She returned the spectacles to the bridge of her nose before turning back to face him. “And yet, I cannot help but notice that you, my lord, shroud yourself in mystery as well. Is that not also a way of hiding from the world? From those around you?”
Pierce smiled. “You’ve noticed.”
“None other has so many rumors circulating about himself than the Black Baron,” she teased, humor and no small measure of curiosity tinging her voice. “People whisper, and yet, you do not seem to mind. Never do you seek to confirm or contradict them. You allow them this guessing game. Why?”
Pierce shrugged. “Because I know who I am, and I do not care what they think. Why should I satisfy their curiosity? They mean nothing to me.” He angled his head as he looked at her more closely. “Do you not do the same?”
His little mouse snorted. “No one speculates about me. No one whispers.”
“Because they think they know the answers,” Pierce pointed out, his gaze moving to the French doors behind which London’s elite danced and laughed, chatted and socialized, oblivious to the young woman who fought every day to make this world a better place. Fools, the lot of them!
Smiling at him, she shrugged. “I find that their disinterest benefits me,” she replied with a hint of triumph in her voice. Still, the look in her eyes spoke of a lon
ely existence. “They don’t see me, allowing me to move almost freely among them, granting me glimpses of secrets they’d otherwise guard with the utmost care.”
Pierce’s gaze narrowed as she chuckled. “You know things ladies are usually not told, do you not?”
Her grin widened. “Not because I was told, no.” She shrugged. “People simply don’t notice me lingering nearby. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve overheard simply by being invisible.” She shook her head as though she still couldn’t believe it. Nevertheless, the fact that no one saw her, noticed her brought a hint of regret to those blue eyes Pierce had come to search for at every event he attended.
“Have you ever considered stepping out from behind that mask?” Pierce asked, remembering the sparkle of her blue eyes in the dim light of the carriage and the way her dark, wavy hair had glistened with snowflakes that night they’d stood out in the alley.
At his words, her body tensed.
“What is it that you fear?” he asked, lowering his head, urging her to look at him.
Slowly, her eyes rose to meet his. “For what I do, I need to be invisible,” she whispered. “I cannot risk…” She swallowed. “I know how to tiptoe around my parents, to snatch up the moments of freedom I need in order to do what needs to be done. But…” Sighing, she shook her head, her spectacles riding low on her nose and her blue eyes looking up into his.
Pierce inhaled a deep breath. “You’re afraid a husband would not grant you that kind of freedom,” he whispered, feeling his insides tense at the thought of her married to…anyone. “Then why do you not simply remain unwed?” That sounded like an awfully good idea!
His little mouse scoffed. “If I ever were to receive an offer of marriage from a halfway decent gentleman, my father would pounce on it like a starving cat would pounce on a fat mouse.” Her jaw clenched. “He would pressure me to accept, and I know if I did, I would lose all that I’ve worked so hard to build. I’ve seen it often enough. Husbands control their wives, or at least they try to. A husband would not grant me the kind of freedom I have now. He could be the kindest man in London, and he would still not wish for me to…do what I do, what I need to do to protect those who cannot protect themselves.” Exhaustion stood in her eyes. “And if I were to refuse, it would still change how my parents see me. I would no longer be free to come and go as I please. I could no longer mingle as I need to. I would be forced into the societal whirl, constantly pressed to find a husband. They would watch me. They would demand to know where I go and who I meet. They would not leave my side.” With her jaw set, she lifted her gaze to his, determination hardening her gaze. “No, I must remain invisible. It’s the only way. Believe me, I’ve thought long and hard on it. This is the life I want, the life I need because, now, they trust me. Now, they—” Frowning, she broke off and her gaze narrowed. “Why am I telling you all this?” Shaking her head, she made to walk away. “I must be mad.”