Lady Rogue (13 page)

"There, you see.  I won't take it back."  He found himself wanting to take her in his arms, to give comfort, but held himself back.  She would misunderstand.  "It's yours."

Dawn felt a rush of heat flush her face.  If she hadn't known it before she realized it now.  She'd fallen in love with the bloke, of that there could be no doubt.  Otherwise he wouldn't affect her so strongly each time he gazed into her eyes.  Yet it was a love that confused her and left her feeling empty and achingly sad.  There was no hope for a happy ending.

"I'll taike it, if 'at's wot yer want......."  She swallowed nervously, guilt tugging at her conscience.  What would he think if he knew she had been with the men who robbed him on the quay?  Would he be so generous then? 

"Good!"  He smiled.   It was the beginning of what he hoped might become a friendship of sorts.  He certainly did want to see her again, just to make certain she was safe.  "My carriage is several blocks away, but if you'd care to walk with me I'll give you a ride back to your lodgings."

She gazed at him blankly for several minutes before she blurted out, "No!" Suspicion clouded her eyes again.  Was he more cunning than she had realized.  Did he recognize her? Was he trying to find the gangs'  new "digs"?

Her sudden hostility stung him.  "I'd enjoy the company."

She looked at him with uncertainty, her heart at war with her reason.  Circumstances had made them enemies as sure as if they were on two sides of a war.  Indeed, in some ways they were.  And yet at that moment all she wanted was to be with him.  "I.....I can't....."  she answered fiercely.  She just couldn't be so selfish as to take a chance with her friends' fate.

"Are you certain?"  She reminded him of a spitting kitten
, but he sensed a vulnerability in her nonetheless.  Living as she did was a horrible existance for a child.  No wonder she reacted as she did.  "It would be
no
trouble and I'd enjoy the conversation." 

His warm smile nearly made her change her mind.  "We'll......."  What harm would it do?  A great deal of harm if she drew the others into danger, she told herself.   She just couldn't take the chance, no matter how she did crave his companionship. "No!  I 'ave some errands to do."  She forced a smile though in truth she didn't feel at all like smiling.  "But...but thank you." 
              "Some other time?"  He was determined that he would see her again.

"Some other time." 

Reaching into his vest pocket, he pulled out a pencil and scrap of paper.  He wanted to keep in contact with her somehow. "If ever you have need of me....."  Scribbling down his name and address, he handed it to her.  "You can reach me here."  Oh, how Ollie would chide him for what he had just done. It was an invitation to have his house robbed, but something prodded him to take the chance. 

"Garrick!"

"Yes?"  He was surprised that she could read.  So many in her circumstances couldn't.  He'd thought perhaps she'd have to get someone else to read it for her if she were in trouble, but so much the better.

"Garrick.  Your name.  I like it."  Garrick Seton the piece of paper said.  It suited him.  Garrick Seton.  She remembered that he'd told her once before.  G.F.S.  Garrick.   It sounded lordly.

"You never told me your name."

Dawn started to tell him but her doubts nagged at her.  "
Poppet is what my father used to call me," she said, breaking out in a run, lest he become too inquisitive.

"Poppet."  A strange name
.  It didn’t to suit her, Garrick thought, wondering if she had told him the truth.  He watched her disappear into the crowds of passersby.  He'd done all he could. Still, as he looked after her retreating figure, he couldn't deny that the little waif had touched him deeply.

Chapter Fifteen

Rain tapped at the windo pane, sending a spray through the cracks.   Summer was taking its leave with a ghastly storm!  Finding an old rag, Dawn stuffed it in the offending fissure, then stepped back, brushing several strands of damp hair from her eyes.  Drops of rain glistened on her thick dark lashes and she quickly wiped them away.  Such a storm!  As if God was emptying all of heaven's buckets.

"Poor Robbie and the others to be caught in this."  Suffering a bout of sniffles, she'd stayed inside.  "They'll be sopped as mop
s by the time they gets back."

Not only the rain would pester them.  The filth in some parts of town  collected in pools on the pavement and would be washed down the steets, bringing along garbage and other offending muck.  Overhead water spouts would
pour down on heads and hats.

"A pity."  There was a bright side, however.  When the weather was bad it seemed to
spark the buying of clothing, scarves, coats, muffs, mittons--and hats.   Dawn had ideas for several designs which would shield their owners from the rain.  Taking a seat at the small table in her room, she made a few sketches, feeling inordinately pleased with herself.

Indeed, the money Garrick Seton had given her from the stolen
purse was a godsend, enabling her to begin making her
chapeaux
, as those in Soho called them.  She had been quite fortunate as a matter of fact, selling her creations at the markets in Rosemary Lane, saving each and every shilling she could.  She gave Robbie a share of her profits, prefering her merchandising to thievary.  The coins she stashed behind a  loose brick in the wall were steadily increasing.

Dawn was becoming quite skilled at keeping ledgers, as a matter of fact.  Robbie made use of her knowledge to help him keep track of the
goods and monies that his thieves brought in.  They made a perfect team, for by the whole of it, Robbie had a good business head, even if the others insisted he was a bit stingy.  It was Dawn's hope that eventually she could dissuade her brother from his life of crime.  Certainly she had a greater feeling of self-worth since she was using her fingers for something besides snatching hankies.

Absently tapping the pen she held in her hand against her fingers, she made her plans.  When she had saved enough money
, she would seek out a teacher, someone who could help her with her speech.  One could hardly  think of being a lady if one spoke like a guttersnipe. Jamie and Farley were right about that.  People were pigeonholed by the way they formed their words.  Robbie  in fact made it a game  guessing where people came from, judging by the words and phrases they used or thesir accents. One had only to open one’s mouth and his place in society was marked forever.

Her brow puckered in h
er determination. 
I'll learn to talk just like me mum used to and then I'll seek out Garrick Seton again.
  Garrick Seton, she thought.  Even the man's name set her heart pounding in a lively rhythm.  And yet she didn't even exist as a woman in his eyes.  A child or a whore, depending on which of their meetings came to his mind.  Hardly the makings of a romance. Even so, she couldn’t banish her reams. She'd become a lady for herself and for
him
.  Then perhaps her pride would be real when next they passed on the street.               

Garrick Seton meant trouble
, but her heart refused to obey the dictates of common sense.  A few days ago her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she had sought out his address.  Along the roadway were glorious stucco-faced homes, a row of fine shops, offices, a concert hall, restaurants, coffee shops and two churches, one with a tall spire.   His house was a two-storied brick structure with colonnades, perfectly landscaped with a garden and trees. Just as she had supposed, he was a member of the so-called
ton
, the elite group of the city living a life of vibrant oppulance and excitement.  No doubt he was out every night.  He must know dozens of beautiful women, clamoring for his attention.  The very thought caused a pang of jealousy.  In her dreams he belonged to her.

But we will meet again, Garrick Seton, that I vow
.  And when they did he'd take notice of her, just as he did in her dreams.  Until then she would just have to content herself with watching him from afar.  Folding and unfolding her drawing she was thoughtful as she turned towards the window to watch the rain, wondering just what he was doing  now and where he was at the moment.  If he was enjoying the company of a woman, Dawn hoped she was not too  beautiful.

Garrick was at the moment dining with Ollie, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin as he smiled.  "I'm glad I let you talk me into this "little lunch" as you call it, Ollie."  It had been a grueling week of long hours and severe eyestrain, a successful week in which Garrick had acquired two new clients. When Oliver had suggested for the fifteenth time that month that Garrick accompany him to his club, he had supprised his friend by accepting the invitation.

"My pleasure old boy.  My pleasure."  Covering his mouth with his hand
, Ollie gave vent to a belch. "Although you might not thank me in an hour when you have heartburn." 

Garrick pushed away his empty bowls and plates, wondering how he'd ever been able
to eat so much.  He'd dined on turtle soup, scalloped oysters, a saddle of mutton, stuffing, boiled potatoes, pickles, tarts, jellies and assorted vegetables.  All washed down with a nice claret.

"If I didn't know better
, I'd say you were bribing me.  Are you, Ollie?"  Garrick arched a brow.

Oliver grinned from ear to ear."Not really.  I just like to see you enjoy yourself.  You rarely do.  You drive yourself unmercifully.  It's hardly sporting and  most definitely depressing."

"I've turned our little venture into a huge success, that's what is important to me.  A man never obtains his goals without hard work."  Garrick's
tone held a warning for Ollie.

"Pooh, I don't go along with your philosophy. I'm not made of your cloth, old boy.  But tell me all about these two new clients of
ours
."

"One is a banker, Mister Troley, for whom we're designing a building on
Bond Street.  The other is a Miss Stephanie Creighton, who has it in mind to build an exclusive home near Meylebone Park."

Oliver sat upright in his chair.  "A
Miss
Creighton, eh? Heh, heh, heh!  Is she pretty?"

"Now, Oliver!  Don't get any ideas.  I'm doing the drawings for her house
and that is all
."  The matter was a sore spot to Garrick, for it had been obvious right from the first that the aristocratic Miss Creighton had set her beribboned and flowered cap for him.  Although he staunchly believed it was a man should take the inititative she clearly thought otherwise. She'd boldly asked him to accompany her to the theatre tonight but he had not refused. 

Oliver threw up his hands.  "All right!  All right! Keep your amorous conquests to yourself. I'll speak no more about it, but we'll just see
what develops.  Ever since the Garden of Eden,  you put a man and woman together and romance is the usual consequence."  He winked at Garrick.  "I'll place all my money on the wager that I'll be seeing Miss Stephanie Creighton on your arm from now on.  Just wait and see.  Miss Creighton has her eye on you, Gar."             

Garrick's mouth trembled in a smile.  Ollie meant well.  "We will  see."  They watched as the dishes were cleared awa
y, then Garrick stood up.

"You are going so soon?"  Oliver was clearly disappointed.  "Without dessert?"  When the waiter brought the bill he laughed nervously.  "Oh dear, I seem to be over my limit and
it seems I haven't brought a bit of money with me. Of course if you felt in a benevolent mood......"

"Ollie.....!"

"Well, you wouldn't want your partner to end up washing dishes. Such an embarrassment to the firm."  His cajoling struck home and Garrick lent him the necessary funds.  Amiably they took leave of each other, going their seperate ways, hopeful the storm would not linger.

"It will be gone before the hour is up," Ollie predicted. Much to Garrick's annoyance it lasted all afternoon and into the
evening.  Now he was patiently waiting for Stephanie Creighton to come down the stairs and make her entrance.  On the pretense of discussing the houseplans with him she had wheedled him into taking her to the opera, Purcell’s
King Arthur.

"Garrick...." Resplendent in a white gown worked with threads of silver hemmed by a floral border, she swept down the stairs.  The soft muslin dress clung to her body, making superfluous any undergarments that might spoil the natrual outline and hide her willowy figure. Her hair
, the palest shade of blonde,  was parted in the center and worn in a snug chignon. Her eyes were gray, her features sharp and well-defined.  Stephanie Creighton looked as if she had been  chiseled from a block of ice. "You're here already.  My abigail didn't tell me you were waiting.  I'm dreadfully sorry."  Her eyes burned with an unnatural brightness as she turned to him.  A feather fan was attached by a ribbon to her wrist and she fluttered it briskly as she gave him a view of her profile.  She was not beautiful, but she knew how to make the most of her physical assets.

"It's no problem.  I haven't been waiting long."  Fumbling in his pocket
, he took out his new watch.  "It's barely six o'clock.  We have plenty of time, that is if you even want to go out now.  It's raining cats and dogs out there.  You're new gown, I fear, will get dreadfully wet."

"Raining?"  Her thin lips formed a pout as if angry that nature had ruined her plans. "How unfortunate!  I can't take the chance of ruining my dress.  You know how perfectly terrible the streets are when it storms."  She remained silent for just a moment then brightened.  A speculative gleam danced in her eyes.  "I guess we'll just have to stay here."  With a casual gesture, she summoned her maid.  "Have Toby prepare the dining room
. We will be entertaining a very special guest."

"Stay here?  It seems like a very good idea."  He took the  glo
ved hand that she offered him.

"Quite!  You don't realize just how long I've wanted to have you
all to myself, Garrick Seton."

Perhaps he had realized, for she made no secret of the fact that she was pursuing him.  Like a princess searching and trying to snare the perfect consort. It was very gratifying to his ego, though he
didn’t intend to let the relationship become serious just yet. Companionship was one thing, a serious commitment another. They hardly knew each other.   Besides, he was not in a frame of mind for finding a wife and that was what Stephanie Creighton had in mind.  Marriage. 

"If we can not go to the opera then the opera will come to us!"  She laughed huskily.  "The opera director is a very dear friend of mine.  As a matter of fact
, I put up a goodly share of the capital needed. We can have a few of the singers not engaged in the current production come to give us a private performance. I'll send Jamison out with an invitation.  Her tone of voice said clearly that she would insist that her wishes be obeyed.

She behaved
as if the whole world was at her beck and call.  "No.” Garrick was adament.  "I wouldn’t ask anyone to come out in this storm just for my own selfish whim. We'll attend the opera some other night when the weather is more favorable.  For tonight I imagine we'll just have to make do with a deck of cards, or conversation.  Despite the time we've spent together, I know very little about you, nor do you know much about me.  Perhaps this would be a good time to delve into the past."

"As you wish."  Sh
e seemed annoyed but carefully kept any sign of emotion from touching her brow.  Taking his arm, she forced a smile as she led him into the drawing room.   Pulling him down beside her on the settee, she leaned against him, allowing her eyes to roam freely over his face.  She felt her blood quicken.  He was a handsome devil and just the kind of man that would cause every woman in London to be envious of her.

Oh, she wanted him all right,  she thought to herself.  She wanted him with an intensity that was alarming.  Was he obtainable?  She made up her mind that he would be. There wasn't anything on earth that didn't have its price, even people.  Garrick Seton was a flawless specimen, a devastatingly handsome man.  The only problem seemed to be  his cursed independence.  He wasn't interested in her money.  A self made man, though his mother had opened herself up to quite a fortune.  Just how was she goin
g to get him under her spell?

The foolish young man who was his partner and companion might be his Achilles' heel. It was rumored that the gentleman had a penchant for gambling. How tragic if his weakness endangered Garrick's  little enterprise.  But the
, of course she would quickly come to the rescue. That idea pleased her. It was certainly worth contemplation.