Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 01] (14 page)

“I’m not taking you anywhere but to a warm
bed.” His cheeks heated as he realized his inadvertent innuendo. “I mean your bed…alone,” he added, ready to bite his own tongue.

Lillian blinked, taken aback by his slip. Mortification overwhelmed her. Had he noticed her indecent attire? Well, there was naught she could do for it now, and he
had
seen it all before. And touched her and tasted her…

“You’re quaking,” he declared. “Here, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.” Shrugging off his cloak, he hung it on her shoulders. She felt overwhelmed by weighted wool and yet relieved to be covered.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Looking down, she observed how the mantle scrunched on the ground at her feet, it was so long. “This will not do. I cannot walk like this, and you have no cloak. No, please take it back. I insist.”

“And I insist that you wear it.” His face had taken on an obstinate glower.

Well, she had to agree that despite being wet, it was toasty inside from his body heat. And she was no longer indecent. Still, this was ridiculous. “Mr. Redford, if I may offer an alternative?”

He nodded.

“At this point, where is the harm if you wear your cloak but simply wrap it around us both?”

“Very well.”

Lifting the mantle off her shoulders, she felt relieved of the weight, and a bit chilly. After setting the cloak on his shoulders, he enveloped her in a warm cocoon. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer, and she could not help the ticklish thrill inside her as she embraced his torso. Her tem
perature rose—and not just from the wool. She looked down to hide the blush that must be tainting her cheeks.

“Much better, thank you,” she supplied, trying to pretend like she wasn’t half-naked, hanging on him like a clinging vine. She wondered at the faint scent of almonds he wore.

They resumed walking down the thoroughfare.

“How is your head?” he asked. “Any better?”

“It’s fine,” she lied. It hurt like the dickens, but she could hardly think of her aching head with his muscular thigh brushing hers with each step. His burly arm held her close, and he tended to lift her slightly onto her toes when there was a furrow in the road. Help like this could almost make a girl want to be rescued more often.

As they stepped around the corner, they came upon a small party of rough-looking men hovering in an entryway out of the rain. Redford turned to one side, blocking her from view. She was both relieved and horrified in one stroke. That settled it; he had definitely noticed her indecent state. But he was too much the gentleman to speak of it and was kind enough to ensure that no other saw her mortifying condition. She shot him a grateful glance and his gaze was kindly apologetic, as if he was sorry to point out her condition.

A warm, reassuring sensation flitted in her middle at his gallant behavior. Nicholas Redford knew how to be a gentleman. He might not have been born one, but he certainly exercised the qualities.

Her heart fluttered deliciously as she thought of him dashing up those gazebo steps with knightly purpose. Every word out of his mouth, every step he had made had been calculated to protect her from
harm. Then when they had neared those rough-looking men in the alcove and he had hidden her from view, it had been so…stirring. Like he had tapped into some heretofore unknown feeling that made her feel safe, protected and yet womanly with power. He wanted her to trust that he would take care of her.

For the first time since her grandfather’s death, Lillian felt the urge to let someone else drive the unsteady chariot that was her life. To release the reins to another, if only for a few moments. She never felt comfortable giving Dillon the lead. He was wonderful but had a dim worldview that irritated her. She could not do it with Fanny either; Lord only knew where they would end up. But for a few precious moments, she would allow Redford to lead.

Lillian might have been wet, cold and aching, but deep inside something warm and pleasurable kindled.

L
illian barely looked up as Redford hailed a hackney and helped her inside. He gave directions to the driver, sat down beside her and slammed the door closed. Without even asking, he pulled her into his burly arms and enveloped her, wrapping the cloak tightly around them both. Now that she was finally off her feet, exhaustion hit her like a cannonball. She felt each aching muscle like it was a hawker screeching for attention.

Her cheek brushed against the wool of his cape, and the scent of almonds once again teased her senses. “Why do you always smell of almonds?”

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm to warm her. “Most people don’t notice.”

“I have an affinity for scents,” she replied, wiggling her toes in her sodden shoes and grimacing with disgust; they felt like icy prunes.

“Well, please don’t tell the gents at Bow Street,” he joked. “It will soil my roguish reputation.”

“Your secret is safe with me. But I must confess I never saw you as a man who indulges himself with perfumes.”

“How do you see me?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. Self-reliant. No-nonsense.”

“No frills, you mean?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

He shrugged, his deep voice rumbling low near her ear. “The scent is not of my choosing. It was a gift.”

“Oh.” Images of scarlet-haired coquettes flashed in her mind, causing a startling sinking feeling in her middle.

“Not by a woman,” he added quickly.

She raised her brow.

“It was a gift from Mr. Evans.”

“The old soapmaker?”

“Yes.”

“Why, may I ask?” she inquired, sensing a story behind the present.

He sighed. “I suppose we do have some time on our hands.” He settled deeper into the seat, pulling her close. “When I was growing up, a few of us were sent to help out at Mr. Evans’s shop during Christmastide each year. It was his busy season, and it allowed us to earn a few pence for the holidays. In my second season there—”

“Pardon, but how old were you then?” she interrupted, trying to imagine him as a boy. Dark, mischievous but likely quiet. Not one for tall tales or putting worms in girl’s bonnets, she would venture.

“Ten. Most of the boys were older, but Dunn allowed me to go along.”

“He seemed like a very special man,” she stated slowly, reminded of their last unhappy exchange on the subject and wishing to make amends.

His body stiffened, and he was silent.

“I’m just, well, very sorry. I did not mean to pry.” But she was probing and she knew it. She was insatiably curious about the man. She had thought that she had known so much about Redford from the accounts in the newspapers. But she seemed to know naught about him, really. Exploits in the broadsheets did not translate into understanding a human being, his motivations, his dreams…. It was no surprise that she was at sixes and sevens about Redford and hardly knew which way was north as far as he was concerned.

“It is no great secret,” he remarked, shrugging. “Dunn was like a father to me. I had no one, and his own son was…let us say, very different from what Dunn would have hoped.”

“It sounds like a beneficial arrangement for you both.” So why did he sound so disturbed about it?

“It was good for me, no doubt. And Dunn appreciated our friendship. He loved me well, but no matter how dear I was to him, I was never his son. There were times when I did almost wish to be of his blood, I’ll admit, but it was not the right of it.”

“And this saddened you?”

“Mostly, I was upset for Dunn. The rift with Marcus brought tremendous heartache to him.”

“What happened between them?”

“Marcus was smart, quick on his feet, a bit of a rake. Somehow, if there was trouble about, Marcus
would be found in the middle of it. Dunn’s approach was to try to discipline the rowdiness out of him, mostly with chores and lost privileges. Not that Marcus didn’t deserve a thrashing now and again…but it seemed that with every punishment, there was retaliation. Marcus was a wild stallion, you see, and Dunn tried to break him. It was only a matter of time before something had to give.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know. Dunn would not speak of it. Marcus left for the Peninsula. Dunn was never the same after Marcus took off. He tried to hide it, but we all knew. He never fully recovered…” His voice trailed off with sorrow. After a moment, he straightened. “But I digress. I was telling you the story about Mr. Evans’s soap shop. Do you wish to hear it, or am I boring you to tears?”

“No, please go on.” She was anxious for every crumb he might offer about his childhood, so very different from hers.

“Well, the shop was pandemonium during Christmastide, but Mr. Evans was a sharp gent, and he realized that someone was filching from the till.”

“Did he accuse you?”

“No, he blamed my friend John William. John was a braggart. All talk but no deeds. He might have mentioned the easy money within reach, but he did not have the brass neck or the stupidity to actually steal a farthing.”

“So what happened?”

“I begged Mr. Evans to give me a chance to prove John William innocent.”

“So you knew even then that you wanted to be an enquiry agent?”

“I did not realize until years later exactly what I
wanted to be. But I suppose, looking back, I already had the proclivity for untangling facts.”

“Were there that many mysteries to solve at the orphanage?”

He shifted. “Many of the children were curious about their parents….” He shook his head, stating slowly, “I confess I was hoping to distract you, but still, I can’t recall the last time I went on so extensively about myself…this is really not very interesting.”

“Please, I am anxious to know more.”

“Why?”

She lifted a shoulder. “We have had such very different lives. I suppose I wish to understand what you have seen.”

“What purpose could it serve?”

“Well, you did save my life tonight. Perhaps I need to fashion the appropriate reward?” She wanted to swallow her foot and never speak a word again in her lifetime! Glue her lips sealed and then add a sewing patch for good measure. Her face flamed. “I mean, I don’t mean…heavens, I don’t know what I meant…”

“I know what you meant.” Nick nodded slowly.

“You do?”

“Yes, you’ve figured out that the soap was a reward from Mr. Evans and you are wondering if it pleased me.”

She sagged against him, relieved. “Exactly.” She knew that he was trying to help her save face, and she appreciated his gallantry. Many gentlemen would not have been able to resist that easy setup. Especially after the way Lillian had treated Redford over the course of their acquaintance.

“Please tell me more about the pilfering in the
soap shop,” she asked, ready to take his lead and leave her tongue-slip far behind.

After a moment, he sighed, continuing, “So if John William was not the villain, then Mr. Evans still had a thief in his shop.”

“Who was the crook?”

“Mr. Evans had an assistant, Ezekial Jones. He was taking a portion of the money and ensuring that it never made it to the till.”

“How did you discover this?”

“If you watched him long enough, it became clear. He probably knew that I suspected him. But I was a miserable, ten-year-old orphan. Who would take my word over his?”

“So you set out to prove his chicanery.”

“Jones slept in a back room in the shop. I asked Mr. Evans to send him on an errand, and then we searched his room.”

“And?”

“And he had stuffed his pillows with blunt. Money he never could have made on the up-and-up as a shopkeeper’s assistant.”

“Not exactly the way to endear Jones to his employer. Mr. Evans must have been very appreciative of your efforts.”

“That was when he rewarded me with almond soap.”

“And what else?”

“That is all.”

“You stopped a thief from pilfering under his nose, exposed a lying turncoat who had betrayed his trust, and he gave you a miserable bar of soap?” she cried, aghast, pulling back to look at his face.

“Calm down,” he soothed, grinning down at her,
amused. “He gave me almond soap for as long as I wish it.”

“What does that mean?”

“For as long as I live, if I wish it. A box is sent to my residence the first Tuesday of the month.”

“Every month?”

“Since I was ten.”

She leaned back into his embrace, mollified. “Perhaps he is not so tightfisted after all. Still, Mr. Evans no longer owns the establishment.”

“He had specific provision for my ‘account’ written into the terms of sale.”

“I have never heard of such a thing.”

“Neither had Mr. Shafer. But he does not mind having me as a customer, as I make certain to keep an eye out for his shop.”

“And no one causes trouble when Nicholas Redford is about.”

“That’s stretching things a bit far, my lady.” He shifted slightly.

“I heard about the thief of Robinson Square. How he never robbed a house on your watch.”

“Happenstance.”

“Not according to the
Times
, Mr. Redford.”

“You can’t believe everything you read in the papers.”

“Very true, but—”

The carriage swayed as it took a turn around a bend, pressing Lillian deeper into his embrace.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her skin flaming, and not just with embarrassment.

“Think nothing of it,” he assured her coolly, ostensibly unaffected by the close proximity.

She tried to follow his lead, to pretend that there
was nothing out of the ordinary about their situation and that she wasn’t enjoying it as much as she was. The coach righted and she relaxed, but he did not loosen his hold. She did not mind.

After a moment, he scratched his chin. “I have a request, my lady.”

“Yes?”

“I mean no disrespect or untoward familiarity, but, well, I would really prefer it if you called me Nick.”

“Nick” felt so intimate, and she was uncomfortable taking what felt like such a dramatic step. Especially since she was half-naked, hugged close in the man’s arms. Particularly since she felt his nearness like a fever that she wanted to catch. She seemed to need reminders that there was nothing going on between them. That she had to maintain her distance.

“I would not want to take liberties…”, he ventured.

“Of course you’re not taking liberties,” she replied. The man
had
just saved her life.

“It just feels like we’ve been through so much, yet to still be so formal….”

He was right. After the things that they had done…and yet not done. Despite the mistaken assumptions between them, a fragile trust was growing. He was an outsider, yet he knew all of her secrets. He had saved her life tonight. Had been more gallant than most men of her acquaintance would have been.

“Nick,” she mouthed. The name suited him; masculine, sturdy and make-no-bones-about-it succinct. So did the almond scent…. She straightened, insight piercing her like a lightning bolt. “The man in the park! He wore Dillon’s fragrance!”

She felt his body tense.

“What cologne?” he asked.

“Canterbury violet.”

“Many men wear it,” he commented. “Nevertheless, we can assume that we are dealing with a gentleman who can afford the finer things and probably travels in Beaumont’s circles.”

“Which is why he disguised his face and voice tonight.” She shuddered, but this time not just from the cold.

The coach rolled to a halt.

“Oaks Square,” the hackney driver called.

The door opened and Hicks stood outside, the drizzling rain shimmering on his cream-and-black butler’s uniform. “My lady! Thank the heavens! We feared the worst when Jon Driver and the men could not find you.”

“The servants are here?” Lillian cried, relief flooding through her. “Is everyone all right?”

“They were held up by a highwayman!”

“No!” Her heart constricted for her loyal servants. “Was anyone hurt?”

“They are all well and whole, my lady. But frightened out of their minds. And when they could not find you, they lost the last wits they did have.”

The hackney driver leaned over from his perch. “A highwayman, did you say?”

“Have you reported it?” Nick asked.

“Gillman is on his way to the Bow Street office. But we must send word that you are safe and well.” Hicks stepped forward. “Pray tell that you
are
well, my lady!”

“I am fine, Hicks.” Highwaymen in the heart of Mayfair. Was this Kane’s doing? she wondered. He had never gone to such lengths. But that did not mean that he was incapable.

“Lady Janus is not fine,” Nick insisted, interrupting her thoughts. “But she will be in a few moments. Please pay the driver, Hicks, and get out of the way.”

Nick maneuvered out the door and eased her from the carriage. Clamping his arm around her waist, he drew her up against his hard form. She was a bit embarrassed by his embrace, but she
was
feeling a bit drained from all of the excitement.

“Has Lady Rece sent any word?” Lillian asked Hicks, worried for her friend.

“I dispatched Jones to Lady Rece’s residence when you did not return. She claimed that you had called off your meeting until tomorrow.”

Lillian was relieved, but troubled. She had sent no such postponement.

Just then, Fanny cried from the threshold, “Oh, thank the dear Lord in heaven!” She advanced down the steps. “I called just when your servants returned. I’ve been half mad with worry! Were you robbed? What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Give the lady a chance to get inside before peppering her with questions,” Nick suggested brusquely. “She may be whole, but she’s had a difficult night.”

Lillian was thankful for Nick’s interference, feeling suddenly unequal to inquiries. Fanny’s good intentions aside, as long as everyone was well, all Lillian wanted was to get dry, warm and decently dressed. Now that she was out of the hackney, she felt the wind knife through her like winter’s frost. She shivered, keen to get inside.

Fanny eyed Nick warily but turned to the servants hovering in the doorway. “Stand aside. Don’t badger Lady Janus.”

The footman rushed down the steps with an umbrella and held it over their heads as Lillian and Nick managed the stairs.