Nathaniel could hardly believe it. Every place he went, there she was. Was Miss Fairchild following him?
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.
He glanced at the woman with whom Miss Fairchild spoke. From the scowl on the woman’s face, she didn’t appreciate the interruption.
“Look here, mister. We’re havin’ a private conversation.”
“Not any longer.”
“What on earth are you doing here?” Miss Fairchild asked, her eyes still registering surprise.
“Escorting you home apparently.”
“I haven’t yet completed my discussion with Mrs. Smith.”
“Yes, you have.”
The stout woman looked back and forth between them before remaining on Miss Fairchild. “Ye promised me payment if I answered yer questions.”
“Do you by chance know any young girls named Alice?” Miss Fairchild asked.
Nathaniel shook his head, unable to believe her tenacity. Why did she frequent the same places as he? She couldn’t possibly be following him as had first crossed his mind. After all, she hadn’t been here when he’d watched the place two days ago, and today she’d arrived before him.
“There are several girls named Alice. What does she look like?”
As the women discussed the mysterious Alice, Nathaniel glanced around to see if anyone watched. Miss Fairchild still didn’t seem to understand the danger she was in. Several people walked down the opposite side of the street, but none seemed to take notice of them.
This workhouse was one of several Nathaniel had decided to watch. But there was only one of him. He was beginning to doubt whether he’d be able to make inroads into the problems he uncovered by himself. Yet what choice did he have?
Warenton had returned to Northumberland with his bride. Nathaniel could hardly involve Tristan. He couldn’t see his perfect brother lingering outside workhouses in less than desirable neighborhoods. Nor did Nathaniel care to share with Tristan what he was doing or why.
Definitely not why.
Miss Fairchild might be willing, but that would be even less appropriate than having his brother aid him. But how could he make her understand that?
Deciding enough time had passed for the women to finish their discussion whether they agreed with him or not, Nathaniel took Miss Fairchild’s elbow.
“I must insist we leave,” he advised her.
“But I have more questions for Mrs. Smith,” Miss Fairchild protested, digging in her heels.
“I’m certain you’ve taken enough of her time.” He reached into his pocket to withdraw some coins to hand to the woman.
The glare Miss Fairchild sent him would’ve melted a less courageous man. Luckily, Nathaniel’s years in the military had provided him with the ability to withstand such attacks.
Mrs. Smith took the coins and hurried away without a backward glance.
“Did you follow me here?” Miss Fairchild asked, her tone biting.
“No, I did not. I must say I’m surprised to find you here. I thought you agreed to take more care and stay away from places such as this.”
“You advised me to stay away from Blackfriars Bridge, and I agreed. There was no mention of workhouses.” She heaved a sigh at the departing back of the woman.
How could she not realize the danger? Nathaniel clenched his jaw, hoping to contain the anger swirling through him. The force of it surprised him. What was it about this woman that caused such a reaction?
“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” she prodded him.
He turned her, prompting her to walk the direction from which he’d come. “I hardly know where to start.”
“I have a plan and you are interrupting it.” She drew to a halt and shifted from his grip.
“I would say the same.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. “What was your plan?”
“It is of no consequence. What is important is your safety, which you so easily cast aside.”
The frustration in her pursed lips might’ve amused him had the circumstances been different.
“Why is it that you are in constant need of rescue? Based on my brief acquaintance with you, I cannot understand how you’ve lived this long unscathed.”
Those amazing eyes of hers lit with fire. Or was that ire? Difficult to tell, but the result was amazing. Suddenly he could imagine them lit with passion. Her face flushed with it as she—
“I would’ve gotten along just fine without you whisking me away.” The fire dimmed a bit. “Although I do truly appreciate your rescue at the ball. But I have survived far worse encounters with Lady Samantha and her friends.”
“That situation is not the one that concerns me. What truly bothers me is the way you continually put yourself in harm’s way. What do you want with this Alice or any of the other young girls for that matter?”
She bit her lower lip for a moment then sighed. The look she gave him was guarded, as though she expected he wouldn’t understand.
But he wanted to understand. He wanted to know what was going on in her mind. Why she’d take such risks to come to places like this and the bridge.
At last she said, “I would very much like to help someone in need. To make a difference, even in just one person’s life.” She again met his gaze. “That isn’t so very much to ask.”
“No, it isn’t. But only if you ensure your own safety before you seek to aid others.”
“I didn’t think I was taking much risk coming here.” She glanced around as though searching for a thief or vagrant who might be ready to accost them. “No one has bothered me. It is the middle of the day. At least I didn’t come at night.”
“I don’t think you comprehend the desperation of people who come to the workhouse. They are willing to do nearly anything to put food in their bellies or that of their families. Just before the supper hour, a line will form, and the dailies will come. The street will fill with them.”
“Who are they?”
“In exchange for some food and two nights shelter, these men will be given a job to do around the workhouse.”
“Should I come back then?” she asked.
“Christ, no. Dailies are not simply down on their luck. For some, this is how they live, traveling from workhouse to workhouse unless a better opportunity comes upon them. An opportunity like you. They could easily steal from you—”
“I was very careful not to bring anything they might want to steal or that would even attract their notice.”
He drew back to stare at her, incredulous. How could he get through to her? “One glance at you and they’d notice.”
She scoffed. “I wear a plain, black cloak and simple shoes. I don’t have fur trim or embellishments of any kind.” She glanced down at her attire as though to check to make certain it was as she remembered.
“Miss Fairchild, have you looked in a mirror recently?”
She looked back up at him, clearly puzzled at his question. “Well, of course. Only this morning as I prepared for this outing.”
He couldn’t resist trailing a gloved finger along her cheek. “Your appearance in rags would draw attention.”
Still she frowned up at him in confusion.
He paused, trying to decide how he could make her understand without saying things he shouldn’t. Though he’d been away a long time, he remembered the conventions of society. They hadn’t been formally introduced. Granted they’d kissed, so he’d already broken all the rules. How could he make her see what he saw so clearly? “You are an arresting woman.”
He regretted the words as soon as he said them, for they didn’t do her justice. She was uniquely beautiful. Why she hadn’t already been snatched up by some lord was beyond him.
“Arresting?” She gave him a wry smile. “That’s an interesting description.”
Since words failed him, he longed to show her exactly how attractive he found her. But that would never do. Twice he’d kissed her, taking liberties he had no business taking. She wasn�
�t for the likes of him. A second son who didn’t matter, as his father had so often pointed out.
Miss Fairchild deserved a husband who would be her equal in all ways. Not one who was broken and filled with self-doubt. Who carried the marks of his father on the inside. No matter how hard he tried, how many risks he took, how many battles he’d fought, he’d never been able to remove his father’s words or the feeling of inadequacy they gave him.
“Do you mean the style and fabric of my cloak? That is what makes me stand out?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she nodded. “I should’ve considered that. Perhaps next time I could borrow one of the maid’s cloaks.”
“No.” Perhaps she’d understand the simple word since she hadn’t caught on to the other things he’d said.
“No?”
He took her arm and turned her toward his carriage. If he stood here with her a minute longer, he’d find some deserted alleyway in which to drag her so that he might taste her once again.
Apparently he needed to find a way to end his celibacy since all he could think about when he was with Miss Fairchild was picking up where they’d left off—with another heated kiss.
“I don’t want you to venture into any part of the East End or any other street where anyone less fortunate than you lingers, lives, or passes through. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Surely that covered the entire list of possibilities.
“While I appreciate you worrying over my safety, I am old enough to care for myself.” She tugged at her elbow, but he refused to release her.
“No, you aren’t. Not on these streets. The depravity of man knows no bounds. Believe me. I’ve seen it.” That was one of the reasons he’d found himself wandering the streets at night, unable to sleep. Memories of what he’d witnessed, what he’d done, kept him awake at night.
“During your time in the military?” she asked.
He nearly took a misstep. “How do you know I was in the military?”
“It’s obvious. The way you carry yourself, your posture, and especially your tendency to give orders. One has to assume you’re used to being obeyed.”
For some reason, those words from her aroused him to no end. He wanted her to obey him in ways he didn’t dare say. He closed his eyes momentarily—anything to ease the sudden throbbing in his loins.
Why couldn’t this woman be an experienced widow, a status that would allow them to explore their passion together rather than a miss who would be someone’s wife one day?
He had to get away from her before he did something he’d regret.
“Where is your carriage?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“We’re nearly there.”
“Excellent.” He kept walking, trying to focus on the ache in his leg instead of the ache elsewhere. How could he convince her to stay out of these areas?
“I don’t see what’s wrong with wanting to help,” she muttered.
“It’s not wrong. But you cannot come alone.” He could nearly hear the wheels his words had set in motion in her mind. His concern compelled him to clarify his order. “Nor can you bring a maid and hope to remain safe.”
Her scowl confirmed he’d guessed correctly.
A carriage came into view. At the sight of them, a footman scrambled down from his post and held open the door. He eyed Nathaniel warily before turning to Miss Fairchild. “Is everything well, miss?”
“Yes, thank you, James.” She paused before stepping inside. “Are you in need of a ride, Mr. Hawke?”
“No, thank you.” He waited until she’d settled herself inside before waving away the footman and standing on the step to lean inside. “Heed my request, Miss Fairchild. Else you’ll leave me no choice but to speak with your father about your recent expeditions.”
Her mouth rounded open. “You wouldn’t.”
Pleased that he’d at last found a way to make her behave, he gave a nod. “Yes, I would. Your safety is that important.”
“That is not fair.”
“As you said, I’m a military man. Strategy is my specialty. Good day.” He closed the carriage door and nodded at the footman to be on his way.
He watched the carriage pull away, part of him hoping that was the last time he’d see Letitia, part of him hoping she’d find a way around his blockade.
~*~
A few moments later, Lettie rapped her knuckles on the roof of the carriage. James complied, bringing the conveyance to a halt along the side of the street.
“Yes, miss?” he asked as he came to the window.
“Follow that man. Discretely, of course. I don’t want him to know.” It was time she did a little investigation on Mr. Hawke. He seemed to know far more about her than she knew about him.
~*~
Culbert Rutter remained in the shadows of an alleyway as he watched the man and woman leave separately, thoroughly unsettled to see Hawke again. His boss wasn’t going to like this one bit.
“What is it?” Teddy asked from his side. The man was new to their business but had proven helpful thus far.
“I’ve seen that man afore. He was one of the blokes that caught us smuggling girls to Brussels. Him and that earl.”
“I heard the story. It was what sent ye to prison last time, wasn’t it?”
Culbert couldn’t help but smile. Though he’d landed in jail two times of late, he’d been released when the police had ‘misplaced’ the evidence against him. But the ease of his release didn’t mean he wanted to repeat the experience.
“Do ye want me to keep an eye on him?” Teddy asked.
“No.” As clever as the bloke seemed to be, chances were he’d notice someone following him and Teddy was not yet experienced in such activities. Having someone watch him might make Hawke pay closer attention.
If Culbert had to guess, the man had been in the military. Something about the way he held himself, not to mention how he’d moved in the skirmish on the ship. That had not been his first fight, of that Culbert had no doubt. “But if ye happen to see him again, let me know, will ye?”
In the mean time, Culbert intended to do a little poking around and see if he could discover more about the mysterious man and what he might be doing near the workhouse.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I have seen one of these gaunt wolfish little children with his tattered cap full of plums of a sort one of which I would not have permitted a child of mine to eat for all the money in the Mint, and this at a season when the sanitary authorities in their desperate alarm at the spread of cholera...”
~ The Seven Curses of London
Lettie could see very little as they followed Nathaniel’s carriage. Gradually, the dirty, crowded streets shifted to better groomed ones of the well-to-do neighborhoods. They passed a church on a street corner and still the carriage continued. She peeked out the window, wondering where the fascinating Mr. Hawke might live.
At last they pulled to a stop. From what little she could see, he had a modest townhome on the west side of Arlington Street. The three-story brick front revealed little of what might be inside. Then again, they couldn’t draw too near without risking him seeing her. That would never do. She didn’t want Mr. Hawke to know she was following him. Or curious about him. Or interested in him in any way. Not that she was. Nothing of the sort. She simply wanted additional details about him should they meet again.
With a shake of her head, she realized no purpose would be served in lying to herself. The man interested her on more levels than she cared to count. But she had to try harder to act as though he didn’t, in order to protect herself.
Despite his kisses and comments, she would never dare to dream he might be attracted to her. After all, she was nearly on the shelf, past the point of drawing anyone’s notice. Even he had called her “arresting”. Which meant...
Well, she wasn’t quite certain, but it was far from beautiful. She knew she wasn’t the type to catch a man’s eye. Besides, he’d been frustrated with her when he’d kissed her. That was a far cry from true desire.
The pang of disappointment had her closing her eyes briefly.
That was all the more reason to focus on her purpose. Gathering her resolve, she studied the front of the tidy home for a few minutes more, taking the time to note the neighborhood. The townhomes were nothing like those on Park Lane or the like, but still a very nice neighborhood with slightly smaller homes. Perfectly acceptable for an unmarried man.
Or did he have a family? Surely he hadn’t taken such liberties with her if he had a wife and children at home. The thought made her ill.
She rapped her knuckles on the roof once more and the carriage eased forward. Her thoughts circled endlessly during the drive home to Grosvenor Square. In many ways, she wished she hadn’t followed Mr. Hawke. Now she was even more curious about him.
The footman helped her down upon their arrival home. As she entered the foyer, she spotted Holly sitting on the steps.
“Whatever are you doing there?” Lettie asked as she removed her gloves.
“Waiting for you.” Holly eyed her curiously. “No one seems to know where you’ve been.”
“Oh?” Lettie had been deliberately vague when she’d left, saying she had errands to run. How unfortunate Holly had noticed. The girl could be much like a dog with a bone. She’d taken to reading mysteries, which had fueled her imagination. Now she saw shadows and conspiracies where there were none. Just last week, she’d insisted one of the maids was spying on them. The week before, she’d suspected the cook of addicting them to sweets.
Lettie had no desire to find herself the focus of her sister’s latest investigation.
“Were you meeting a man?”
Her sister’s blunt question normally would’ve made Lettie laugh. Yet how could she when the image of Mr. Hawke appeared so vividly in her mind?
Well aware of her cheeks heating, Lettie feigned interest in her gloves. “I saw the dressmaker. Does that count?”
“You visited the dressmaker?”
At once Lettie realized her mistake. She would never venture there alone. In truth, she didn’t like the woman her mother insisted they go to or the gowns she made. Lettie preferred Madame Daphne’s, but the only thing her mother allowed them to purchase there were chemises and the like.
Loving the Hawke (The Seven Curses of London Book 1) Page 6