“What do the two of ye think ye’re about?” The large man’s face flushed with anger.
“I truly mean no offense. I’m willing to pay for her time, but I only want to talk,” Dalia attempted to explain.
Spencer already knew Tully wouldn’t listen to reason. He’d taken insult at her request.
“I don’t care who ye are,” he raged, drawing even more people to them. “Ye ain’t wastin’ her time with questions.”
Tully grabbed Spencer’s arm as if he believed Dalia was somehow under his control. The trickle of concern he’d felt earlier turned into a flood. How could he possibly protect Dalia now?
Damn and blast.
Chapter Nine
“They belong utterly and entirely to the devil in human shape who owns the den that the wretched harlot learns
to call her ‘home.’”
~The Seven Curses of London
Dalia swallowed hard, realizing her mistake too late. She’d thought revealing she was a woman would allay the man’s fears. What she’d expected to turn into an interesting conversation had changed into a dangerous one.
She glanced at the gathering crowd, the expectant looks making her uneasy. Everyone obviously hoped for an escalation of the situation. Except for her.
Her gaze shifted to Spencer. The only sign of his anger was the burning light in his eyes and the twitch of a muscle in his jaw. But she realized what those meant. Her unease increased threefold at the sight of his distress.
She knew very well that this type of scenario was completely out of Spencer’s experience. He was a man of intellect rather than action. As quickly as possible, she needed to find a way to extract them from the situation since it was her fault they were in it. But how?
“Mr. Tully, sir, please know I meant no offense.” She reached out to touch his arm, but he jerked away. “Truly. I just had a few questions that I—”
“Who do ye think ye are to ask questions like that?”
Dalia couldn’t help but look at the woman, hoping she’d take her side.
But no.
The woman was sniffling as if to keep tears at bay. Dalia frowned, unable to understand why. She hadn’t insulted her or been disrespectful. She’d merely asked a few questions. What was so wrong about that?
“Look how ye’ve upset her. Now she won’t be able to work ’til she calms ’erself.”
“If you’d let me speak with her for a few minutes, I’m certain I could explain, and she’d understand I meant no harm.”
Spencer took her arm. “We’re leaving. Now. Put your hat back on.”
“But I—”
The glare he sent her had her swallowing the words. This take-charge side of Spencer was one she’d never witnessed. But since neither Tully nor Mary showed any sign of accepting her explanation, perhaps Spencer had the right of it. Fleeing was a far better alternative than fighting.
With one hand, she gathered her hair and tucked the lot of it under the cap. “Very sorry for any insult. I didn’t intend to offend.” She barely got the words out before Spencer dragged her away.
Those who’d gathered around them grumbled as though protesting at the lack of action. Spencer ignored the rumbles as he elbowed past them to stride back the way they’d come, winding through the crowd with a quickness that forced her to run at his side.
“I didn’t mean for—”
“We will discuss this later. Once you are safe.”
Safe? Based on the tight way he spoke, she didn’t know if being with him would provide that. However, it was certainly better than remaining with Tully.
Spencer glanced over his shoulder several times without changing his pace. Dalia did the same but, with her limited height, couldn’t tell if anyone followed.
“Can we slow down now?” she asked at last, breathless.
“No.” His clipped response had her biting back further protest.
Guilt poured through her as realization sunk in at the close call they’d had. She deserved his anger. Once again, her good intentions had fallen short. She’d placed Spencer in terrible danger. That she hadn’t intended to didn’t matter.
They reached a cab stand a fair distance from the lights and excitement of the gardens. Unfortunately, no conveyance waited there.
Spencer released her then paced back and forth before glaring at her in the dim glow of a nearby gaslight. “What were you thinking?”
She wanted to inquire as to which part he was referring to, but a look at his expression had her keeping the question to herself. “I only wanted to show them I had no ulterior motive in asking for details.”
“Do you have any idea how much danger you faced?”
“But you were with me.” While she knew Spencer had no experience dealing with a crowd like that, let alone a man like Tully, she had no doubt he’d do all in his power to keep her safe. In fact, it surprised her just how safe she felt with him.
Her words seemed to deflate his anger. He closed his eyes briefly, that muscle flexing in his jaw again.
Surely between the two of them, they would’ve found some way to extricate themselves, regardless of Tully’s actions.
“I didn’t think—” she began.
“That is the problem, isn’t it? You don’t consider the consequences of your actions.”
She blinked, her heart sinking at his words. “You’re right. I don’t always. I thought once the woman saw I didn’t want anything other than to speak with her, she wouldn’t mind.”
He shook his head. “We were there only to observe. Not to engage in conversation. Women like her don’t think the same way you do. Their life experiences are completely different from yours.”
“Apparently.” Frustrated, she turned away to study the distant lights of the garden. “I didn’t get to see anything or learn more that would help Ruth or any fallen women.”
“If you truly want to help, you need to find a better way to do so. One that doesn’t put you in harm’s way. Places like the Argyll Rooms and Cremorne Gardens are off limits for a lady.”
“You mean help indirectly. Such as some meaningful charity that does good work. One comprised of women who pretend outrage over the latest news sheet article but gather to gossip rather than truly make a difference.” Disappointment with both him and herself settled deep inside her.
“There are many organizations already helping fallen women,” Spencer responded, his voice quiet on the deserted street. “Perhaps you can find one that could use your assistance.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d truly thought he understood her and what she’d hoped to accomplish but obviously not. What he was telling her was no different than what she was certain her father would advise her.
But she already knew from what Lettie had said that it was doubtful those types of organizations would welcome any true input or assistance from a young lady. They’d be pleased enough to take her money, but the chance of actually making a difference in someone’s life was unlikely as they were only helped by a distant hand.
“Of course.” With a deep breath, she gave herself a mental shake. Now wasn’t the time to worry over such things. Not after what had just happened.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Spencer when she thought of the danger she’d forced on him. She’d never intended to put him in harm’s way. Her mission was to help others, not hurt them.
Especially not Spencer when he’d gone out of his way to assist her. She owed him an apology.
His touch on her arm surprised her, causing her to look at him.
“Dalia.”
She slowly turned to face him.
He glanced about then eased her into the shadow of a building and into his arms. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Her breath hitched at the gentleness of his embrace, so at odds with his fierce words. He pulled her tighter until her head rested against his shoulder. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, calming her as nothing else had.
“You will never kn
ow how terrible it was to realize you were in danger and that I’d placed you there. If anything had happened to you...”
She was disappointed when he didn’t finish the sentence. What? She wanted to ask, wondering if it would matter to him, or if it was just his overactive sense of responsibility that would cause him pain.
Timidly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and returned his embrace. His wool suit coat had a slightly musty scent, so different than his normal one. Yet that unfamiliar scent served to remind her of the oddness of the situation. “I’m very sorry my actions placed you in danger.”
With a heavy sigh, wishing for things that couldn’t be, she held him tighter, enjoying the moment. No doubt he would ruin it soon enough with another lecture.
~*~
“What the hell was all that about, Tully?” Charlie Pruett asked after waving Tully over to see him.
“Craziest damned thing.” Tully shook his head. “Some woman disguised as a lad said she wanted to pay for one of the girl’s time but to ask questions rather than tossin’ her.”
Charlie frowned. “I don’t care for the sound of that.”
“Probably some do-gooder stickin’ her nose where it don’t belong.”
“Perhaps. Did you get a look at the man who was with her?”
“Yeah. No one I’ve seen before. You?”
“Yes, actually. He’s been hanging about Flowers and Dean Street off and on. Never buys any of the girls’ time. Just stands around and watches.”
Tully shook his head. “Gets his kicks watchin’ instead of doin’? There’s more of that sort of thing around than ye might realize.”
“I’m not sure that’s the way of it with this one. Something tells me he’s got other things on his mind.”
“Like what?”
“Don’t know. If you see him around again, keep a close eye on him and let me know, would you? There’d be a little something extra in it for you.”
“Happy to.”
Charlie didn’t know what reason the man could have to hang about, but he didn’t care for it and neither would McCarthy. The man was either competition or a threat. Neither boded well for Charlie.
~*~
By the time a hansom cab arrived and carried them toward Dalia’s home, Spencer’s temper had calmed. He knew the blame for the evening lay squarely on his shoulders as he was the one who’d suggested it.
But he’d underestimated Dalia’s determination to do more than simply observe. They might’ve gotten away with the plan for the evening if she hadn’t decided to make inquiries of Mary let alone reveal she was a woman dressed as a lad. He could only hope no one had recognized her else she’d be ruined. He’d be willing to wager that danger hadn’t crossed her mind when she’d removed the cap.
That same disregard for risk was what had guided his brother, Edward, his entire life. Even as a young boy, he’d never done what their tutor had told them to do. He’d always been a rebel and done the opposite of what their father had ordered. And he’d followed the same path at university.
Spencer had been punished alongside Edward each time, even though he hadn’t been the one to disobey. His father had insisted Spencer “learn” from his brother’s mistakes. He supposed that was what had driven him to be a rule follower and overly cautious.
Yet Spencer realized at a young age that a part of their father admired Edward’s rebelliousness. Spencer had detested that, for he received the worst end of the punishments whereas Edward had gotten off lightly. As angry as his brother’s behavior made their father, he found fault with Spencer for not behaving in the same fashion. Spencer had given up trying to understand it long ago.
That same recklessness had ended his brother’s life one stormy evening just over a year ago when Edward had taken a bet whilst on a ride on Rotten Row. He’d attempted to jump his horse over the iron rails separating Hyde Park from Kensington Gardens. The rails were six feet high and pointed at the top. The horse had halted abruptly at the last moment, sending Edward flying. Unfortunately, he’d been spiked through the chest and died soon after.
The anger Spencer felt at his brother had yet to fade.
Now as he stared at Dalia’s legs in those ridiculous pants beside him on the cab’s bench, he wondered what action Edward would’ve taken this evening. Probably have thrown a fist. He’d done a lot of that.
Would that have been better than running as he’d done? His only thought had been to remove Dalia from harm’s way.
He liked to think he considered all options logically before determining the best path. Granted, he leaned toward the side of caution, especially in situations like this one, but was that so terrible?
“I’m sorry, Spencer.”
Dalia’s quiet words cut through his musings, bringing him back to the moment. He knew she was disappointed with him, just as his father would’ve been. Unfortunately, he didn’t understand quite why.
Then again, he didn’t understand anything when it came to this woman. Nor when it had begun to matter to him. Why she mattered. But she did.
“Promise me you won’t return there.” Her silence had him turning to face her. “It’s too dangerous. Surely you don’t intend to deny that.”
“No, I won’t go back there.”
Relief eased the tight band around his chest. “Thank you.” He reached out to gently tug a strand of hair by her ear, grateful for the privacy the cab offered.
The corner of her mouth crooked up. “You’re welcome. And thank you for taking me.”
He nearly smiled in return. “Why did you ask her those particular questions?”
“If Ruth knew some of the harsher details, perhaps it would influence her decision about whether to choose that life.”
“Don’t you think Betty has already shared those with her?”
“Not the full truth. I’m starting to think Betty would gain financially if she brought Ruth into the work as she’s being less than honest.”
“You might be right.” Spencer was once again struck by her intelligence. “In that case, you have a battle before you.”
“I know, but I have to try.”
He hated the hat she wore as its brim hid her face. He pulled it off and was rewarded when her pale blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, catching his breath. It was even longer than he would’ve guessed. He drew a lock through his fingers, marveling at the softness. Her body stilled at his action. Then his gaze caught on her mouth, sending desire spiraling through him.
“You drive me mad,” he confessed on a whisper and bent his head to capture her lips with his own.
She responded with enthusiasm, giving as much as he. Unable to resist, he deepened the kiss, tracing his tongue along the seam of her lips. She opened them, whether in surprise or welcome he didn’t know. But the silkiness of her mouth felt splendid.
The image of those trousers came to mind, and he couldn’t resist sliding his hand along the length of her leg. Women should wear pants more often.
Her hand found its way beneath his jacket to his chest. That only made him want to feel those fingers everywhere. He drew her closer still, loving the feel of her body against his.
The way she responded had him wishing they were somewhere more private, where they wouldn’t be interrupted and could freely explore this desire between them.
Yet even the idea of doing so had him easing back. After all, this was Dalia. He already knew they wouldn’t suit. No doubt she’d agree.
The risks she took drove him mad. His preference for caution would do the same to her.
Where did that leave them?
“I believe we’ve arrived,” he whispered as the cab halted, reluctant to break the spell despite his concern over the future.
“Oh. Good.” She pulled back to glance about.
“I’ll see you to your door.”
He knew she’d protest so raised a brow as she drew a breath. To his relief, she nodded.
Spencer requested the driver to wait while he escorted Dalia into
the alleyway in silence, uncertain what more he could say. He hoped she’d keep her word and rather than wandering into dangerous places, she’d find a better way to offer aid, preferably from a safe distance.
At the garden gate, she paused, her hand on the latch. “Thank you, Spencer.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t turn out as you’d hoped.”
She sighed. “My father has told me that sometimes unexpected events are part of a grand plan to which we are not privy. Perhaps this night is one of those.”
“Perhaps. I’ll watch to make certain you get inside.” Though tempted to kiss her once more, he resisted the urge. Danger lay in that path as surely as the one through Cremorne Gardens.
She hesitated the barest of moments before opening the gate and closing it firmly behind her, making him wonder if she’d wanted another kiss as well.
He cursed his cautious nature. What might happen if for once he indulged in temptation?
But no.
The night was young, and duty called. He had an area or two to watch. He hadn’t seen any sign of Charlie Pruett at the gardens, much to his relief. The last thing he needed was for Pruett to become aware of his movements. He could only hope he and Dalia’s activities this evening had not somehow caught his notice.
Yet he couldn’t help but sigh with regret at the sight of Dalia in her jacket and snug trousers passing through the kitchen entrance.
Chapter Ten
“You would never dream of the deplorable depth of her destitution, if you met her in her gay attire. Splendid from her tasseled boots to the flowery hat that crowns her guilty head, she is absolutely poorer than the meanest beggar that ever whined for a crust.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Dalia sighed in relief as she opened her bedroom door with the heavy boots in hand. She’d taken great care to be quiet as she hadn’t wanted to risk alerting Holly or any of the servants that she’d returned home. That was no easy feat, even at this time of night. The rest of her family should still be out.
Falling For The Viscount (The Seven Curses of London Book 6) Page 10