Loving the Hawke (The Seven Curses of London Book 1)

by Williams, Lana

  Holding tight to Anna’s hand, he glanced back as they rushed out of the alley and onto the street to make certain the other girl was still with them. Well aware they were tiring, he offered as many encouraging words as he could but kept moving.

  Their white gowns would make them an easy target even in the dark, so he took several turns down side streets and alleyways. No one shouted in protest as they hurried past.

  By now, several men must be looking for them. They would most likely take a cab to search faster. The idea had Nathaniel moving faster.

  “A little bit farther, and we’ll rest,” he promised the girls.

  The smallest one was growing tired. She stumbled several times, crying out as her bare feet scraped the cobbles. They couldn’t stop yet. Nathaniel lifted her into his arms. “I’ll carry you for a bit, shall I? How nice will it be to see your mother and father again?”

  When the girls starting sniffling, he realized he’d once again said the wrong thing. He offered what few words of comfort he could think of.

  At last they came to a hansom cab stand, and to his relief, a cab and driver were there.

  He assisted the girls into the cab as he called directions to the driver. “There’s an extra shilling for you if you drive quickly.”

  The man flicked the reins and the horse started forward before Nathaniel had closed the door. The meager light inside the cab revealed the girls’ frightened faces, their big eyes staring at him.

  He offered a tentative smile. “Are you both well?”

  Anna smiled back and ran a hand along the seat as she looked around the interior of the cab. “I’ve never ridden in a hansom afore.”

  That seemed to lighten the other girl’s mood as they marveled at the experience.

  “Ye’re not just takin’ us to some other place, are ye?” the other girl asked.

  “No. I am not. I promise on the Queen’s honor.” That didn’t seem to impress her. “On my mother’s honor.”

  She gave a nod. “That’ll do,” she said and leaned back against the seat.

  “How did you come to be at the brothel?” he asked. If their parents had sold them, there was no point in returning them home. He’d have to find another place for them.

  “We were promised jobs as maids,” Anna said, sharing a look with the other girl. “But when we arrived at the house to work, a man was there waiting for us, and he took us to the brothel.” She blinked back tears. “He said we’d never see our families again.”

  “You’re safe now,” he reassured them. “You’ll be home soon.”

  Anna released the other girl’s hand and shifted to sit beside him. She took his hand and held it tightly, smiling up at him. “We can’t thank you enough, sir.”

  A tightness filled his chest, gathering in the back of his throat. He was a military man for Christ’s sake. There was no place for such emotion in his life. But at this moment, something warm and sweet filled him all the same.

  As Nathaniel looked at both of them, he realized this was a night he’d never forget. This mission had been far different than the ones he’d completed in the military. He was rather surprised to realize how satisfying it was to know he’d saved these girls from a terrible fate.

  When the cab drew to a halt outside the lodging house in which both girls lived, he delivered them to the welcoming arms of their families. The joy on their faces was as all the thanks he needed. He gave each family several shillings, hoping it would help their situation.

  A deep satisfaction filled him as he closed the door of the lodging house. The hansom cab awaited him, a good thing as his leg ached like the devil.

  With a sigh, he leaned back against the seat, wishing he had someone with whom to share the look of delight that had been on the girls’ faces when they’d been reunited with their families.

  He could only sigh again when Letitia came to mind.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “A human creature, and more than all, a helpless human creature, endowed with the noblest shape of God’s creation, and with a soul to save or lose, is as much out of place grovelling in filth and contamination as would be a wild cat crouching on the hearth-rug of a nursery.”

  ~ The Seven Curses of London

  Lettie loved to ride. Everything about it appealed to her from her horse, to the scenery at Hyde Park, to the freedom. She rode her dappled grey mare as often as she could. The hill and dale and stately trees of the park made her feel as if she were in the country. She adored it all. All except the number of people on Rotten Row and how they looked each other over from head to toe. Lettie felt lacking as she always did in such situations.

  Dalia had requested they go before breakfast, earlier than most would, making the ride more pleasurable as far as Lettie was concerned.

  The park always smelled fresh—at least fresher than the rest of the city. But this morning’s venture here wasn’t simply for the joy of it. Lettie wanted to keep a very close eye on her sister and the man she was meeting. For the present moment, that was her responsibility and she intended do it well. Perhaps it was better that a maid hadn’t accompanied her sister. Dalia might’ve managed to convince her to look the other way, but Lettie would not.

  As they rode along the sandy tracks, she did her best to ignore her sister’s obvious searching and focused on her enjoyment of the ride. Her mare tugged at the reins and seemed to be in high spirits as well. The morning was overcast but still quite pleasant.

  “I can’t imagine where he could be,” Dalia said with a scowl upon her lips.

  “Perhaps something came up and changed his plans,” Lettie offered, trying to keep her tone neutral. But if he disappointed her sister, that made him a cad in her opinion. She was already prepared to dislike him for wanting to meet Dalia without her family’s approval.

  “There he is.” The excitement in Dalia’s face as she stared at someone in the distance made Lettie feel instantly guilty.

  Attempting to reserve judgment, she followed her sister’s gaze to see the same well-dressed young man she’d glimpsed the previous night riding toward them on a sleek black stallion.

  Lettie watched the horse in admiration. It was a beauty. Full of energy, it jerked its head at the reins, but the man seemed to control it well. She reluctantly admired him for both his choice in horses and for handling it so well.

  “Good morning,” he said as he rode up beside Dalia. Mr. Brover was handsome with dark hair, brown eyes and even features. But there was a slyness to his smile that Lettie didn’t care for. Or maybe it was in his eyes.

  “Good morning to you as well,” Dalia said with a bright smile.

  His gaze shifted to Lettie, smiling as Dalia made the introductions.

  “How kind of you to accompany your beautiful sister,” Brover said to Lettie.

  Dalia blushed at his words. Lettie thought them forward.

  Brover guided his horse to ride alongside Dalia. “Do you have a preference as to where we ride?”

  “Whatever you prefer.”

  Lettie frowned. Her sister always had an opinion. Always. Was she already trying to be someone she wasn’t to gain his interest? That was just what she had warned Rose against. One of the many reasons she liked Nathaniel was because he didn’t seem to expect her to be anyone but herself.

  She wasn’t certain why what Nathaniel thought of her mattered so much. But it did.

  As the three of them rode, Dalia sent several glares at Lettie. Lettie looked at her wide-eyed as though she didn’t understand what Dalia wanted, well aware her sister would prefer she drop back so the pair might have some privacy.

  She had no intention of doing so. Dalia would no doubt be angry, but Lettie didn’t care. Until she knew this man better, she wasn’t allowing them out of her sight. The best she could do was feign interest in the scenery as though not listening to what they discussed.

  Soon they chatted about an upcoming ball and who might be attending, none of which held Lettie’s attention. With each Season that passed, sh
e’d felt less and less like she fit in with other ladies. While they were concerned with who wore what and who was invited to which party, Lettie’s focus had broadened to the world around her.

  Her curiosity had started with her family’s servants then grown to their families. She’d read many newspaper articles on the topic of London’s poor. The more knowledge she gained, the less important the events of the Season seemed.

  Whether she liked it or not, the world as she knew it was dominated by men. She often wondered how different life would be if she’d been born a male. The things she wanted to accomplish would’ve been far easier if she had.

  And while she didn’t feel completely fulfilled at the moment, she’d realized playing wife to a husband wouldn’t necessarily make her complete either. It wasn’t the act of marriage that brought happiness, but the man to whom one was married. None of the men she’d met had made her think twice.

  Until now.

  If only she could find a way to convince Nathaniel to help her. If she saw him again, she would implore him to do so. He was the only one in her acquaintance who possessed the ability and shared the same concern as she.

  The whole process of attempting to find someone to aid had been frustrating thus far. She didn’t know enough about the exact nature of the problem to offer real help. As Nathaniel had agreed, money didn’t always solve the problem for such families.

  Her search in the newspaper that morning had revealed two ads for children being offered for sale. She was tempted to contact both. After all, one might not be available anymore. And if neither had been sold, maybe she could assist both families. She’d saved her pin money for several months now and had enough to offer one-time modest financial assistance. Maybe she could help in some other way as well. Nathaniel would be the perfect person to aid her with this endeavor.

  “Is that true, Miss Fairchild?”

  Lettie turned to see Lord Brover had leaned forward in his saddle to look at her.

  “I’m sorry?” she responded, ignoring Dalia’s glare. Her sister should be pleased to know Lettie wasn’t listening to their conversation.

  “I asked if it was truly your fifth Season. You must have great experience with all these activities.” The hard glint in his eye made her think he didn’t mean the remark in a complimentary way.

  “I’m sure you’ll both be at ease with the pace of events soon.” She refused to confirm his hurtful words. It was rude of both him and her sister to discuss the number of Seasons she’d had. She sent her sister a look of displeasure.

  Dalia had the good sense to look sheepish.

  Lettie did her best to pay more attention to their conversation. Did Mr. Brover not realize he would have a better chance of spending time with Dalia if he was kind? Based on their brief acquaintance, she didn’t care for him.

  After making plans to dance with Dalia at the ball that evening, he bid them goodbye.

  “Why must you do that?” Dalia asked, her anger obvious.

  “What?”

  “Every time you meet someone, especially a man, it’s as if you’re keeping score.”

  Lettie considered the claim. To some extent, it was true. She did evaluate them. And thus far, she’d found most lacking.

  “It would be refreshing to see you participate in a relationship rather than merely observe,” Dalia continued.

  “I hardly think—”

  “I disagree. You think far too much. Sometimes you have to lead with your heart rather than your head.”

  Lettie sighed and didn’t bother to raise her concerns about Mr. Brover. In Dalia’s current mood, they would only fall on deaf ears.

  They rode the rest of the way home in silence. She had to admit her social interactions weren’t exactly interactive. It wasn’t as if she wanted to watch life pass her by. She wanted to participate, but on her terms. Unfortunately, no one in her family understood that.

  Only one person did, and that was Nathaniel. With his assistance, she could do far more than observe. Somehow, someway, she had to convince him to aid her.

  ~*~

  Nathaniel didn’t care to be incapacitated though he supposed it was a small price to pay for what had been accomplished the previous evening. But lying in bed with a warmer along his leg for this long was frustrating.

  He’d slept for a few hours after returning home, only to wake with his leg throbbing, warm to the touch, and swollen. Dibbles had tut-tutted in his usual way and sent for the doctor without Nathaniel’s leave. As if Nathaniel didn’t already know the doctor would suggest rest and heat. He’d lived with the damned leg for months after all.

  It had been six months since he’d been discharged, and seven since he’d received the injury. The bullet he’d taken during a skirmish in India had shattered his thigh bone. He hadn’t realized the severity of the wound until after the adrenalin rushing through him had eased. He’d hoped once the bullet was removed, he’d make a full recovery, but that wasn’t to be.

  The doctor had advised him that when a bone was shattered, the pieces shifted, preventing the bone from knitting properly. Apparently the pieces still moved after significant activity as his leg throbbed endlessly.

  The laudanum his doctor had left on the bedside table remained untouched. He’d had enough of the nasty stuff after his first surgery on the leg. The side effects outweighed the benefits, in his opinion. He’d rather have a brandy and hope for the pain to pass.

  Today it was taking a hell of a long time.

  He read a few more pages of The Seven Curses of London in an attempt to take his mind off the pain. Reading that small amount was all he could stomach at a time. The atrocities the author noted made it difficult to simply lie there and read. He wanted to do something, to take action to prevent such things from happening within a few miles of his home.

  But not this day. He was resigned to remaining in bed at least until the morrow. The doctor’s threat of amputation if he didn’t allow his leg to heal was enough to keep him in bed. He didn’t want to lose his leg.

  His bedroom door opened. Nathaniel didn’t bother to look up as he expected it was Dibbles once again. The man had been hovering all day.

  “What happened?” Tristan asked as he strode into the room. Both his presence and the concern on his face were surprising.

  Nathaniel set aside the book, tucking it close to his body and out of his brother’s sight. He didn’t want to hear a lecture about how it was nonsense. That was certainly what his father would’ve said, and Tristan would most likely feel the same.

  “Good afternoon.” Nathaniel sat up as best he could. “I’m afraid I overdid things yesterday. My injury is acting up.”

  “Shouldn’t it be healed by now? You’ve been back several months.”

  “I fear this is as good as it’s going to get. I need to take better care, I suppose.”

  Tristan stepped forward and drew the covers back to look at his bare thigh.

  “Jesus, man. Have you no manners?” Nathaniel was genuinely shocked that his conservative, stoic brother would do such a thing. Luckily, the loose undergarment he wore maintained his privacy.

  “You’re my brother. Surely manners are unnecessary.”

  “Please remember that next time I feel the need to take such liberties with you.” Unable to bear his brother’s scrutiny at what he knew to be a weakness, he jerked the covers back over his leg.

  “As secretive as you are, you leave me no choice but to see the damage for myself. It looks terrible. What does the doctor have to say?”

  “Rest, heat. Nothing I haven’t heard many times over.”

  Tristan studied Nathaniel until at last Nathaniel raised a brow. “Have I grown horns?” He couldn’t resist using Tristan’s words back at him with the hope of shifting his brother’s focus.

  “I’m amazed my quiet younger brother can bear what must be causing him great pain. What did the military do to you?”

  “I don’t know that it was the military.” He had his father to thank for
it. After all, he’d borne emotional pain since he’d been old enough to remember.

  From his youngest days, he had memories of his father dismissing him time and again, reminding him that he was the second son, the spare. That Tristan was the golden child and the only one worthy of his attention.

  That Nathaniel didn’t matter.

  He’d heard that over and over until it was part of who he was. Until he’d nearly become numb from it.

  Nearly.

  But Nathaniel didn’t care to discuss any of that with his brother. He waved a hand, wishing he could wipe away the words he’d uttered.

  “What do you mean?” Tristan asked. He drew the chair from the desk closer to the bed and took a seat.

  “Nothing.”

  “I wish you’d tell me.”

  Nathaniel didn’t think he truly wanted to hear the answer. “Don’t you have another ball to attend this evening?” he asked, more than ready to shift the focus from himself.

  Tristan looked away, staring out the window. “I haven’t decided if I’ll be attending.”

  “Why not?” Nathaniel didn’t understand why his brother wouldn’t give into their mother’s demands that he marry so she would cease her nagging. Marrying and providing an heir was part of the many duties he carried out so well in other aspects. “Marriage might suit you.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Why?”

  Tristan waved at the air, much like Nathaniel had only moments before, and smiled wryly. “Why don’t we avoid the topics neither of us wish to discuss?”

  “Very well.” Though still curious, Nathaniel could hardly demand answers when he wasn’t willing to give any of his own.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Nothing of import.” Nathaniel nearly sighed, for he didn’t care to discuss that topic either. This awkward conversation reminded him of how far apart he and Tristan were—had always been.