by Wolf, Bree
Pierce tensed, and he could tell from the way the corners of her mouth curled upward that she’d noticed. “We’re not talking about me at pres—”
“But we could be,” his little mouse interrupted, her blue eyes sparkling with eagerness now as she squared her shoulders. “Yes, I believe we should. You’re so keen on unearthing my secret, I cannot help but wonder about your own.”
Pierce huffed out an annoyed breath. “Who says I have a secret?”
A look of utter incredulity came to her eyes before she threw her head back laughing. “I am no fool, my lord. A man called the Black Baron must have a secret and a most shocking one at that, perhaps even unlawful.” Pierce willed himself not to react. Still, his insides all but turned and twisted as she continued to poke at him. “Gambling?”
“You’re wasting your time,” Pierce told her with as much of a straight face as he could muster.
His little mouse put a finger to her lips. “You’re right. That wouldn’t be much of a secret.” Her lips pursed as she thought, and Pierce could not deny that he enjoyed their little game. “How about espionage? That would fulfill all the requirements, shocking as well as unlawful, and would make you utterly deserving of the moniker Black Baron.” She looked at him expectantly, and Pierce could not deny that he hated to disappoint her.
“I’m afraid your guess is not even close to the truth.”
A slow smile curled up the corners of her mouth. “You seem nervous,” she observed, clearly enjoying this little back-and-forth as much as he did. “You’d feel so much better if you’d unburdened yourself and simply told me the truth.”
Leaning forward, Pierce grinned at her. “Says the woman wearing a disguise every day of the week.” His brows rose, daring her to accept his challenge. “Perhaps you should take your own advice.”
“Oh, but my secret is not nearly as interesting as yours,” she told him, her blue gaze sharp as she looked into his eyes without even the slightest hint of trembling nerves. Right here, right now, his little mouse was in her element. She was herself. No pretense. No act. No deception.
“I doubt that,” Pierce whispered, all but forgetting that they were speaking about their respective secrets and not about themselves. To him, no one had ever been more interesting, fascinating and intriguing than her. “After all, your secret includes a disguise, a well-crafted one at that, for no one even recognizes it as a disguise.” His gaze traveled over her soft features before returning to those dark blue eyes that blazed with an iron will. “Why do you hide yourself?” he whispered, feeling an almost unbearable need to know.
Sighing, his little mouse shrugged, then set the spectacles back onto her nose. “That is my secret, and I’m not certain I can trust you with it.”
Inhaling a deep breath, Pierce nodded, feeling a sudden longing grow in his chest to earn that trust, to have her turn to him in a time of need, to know that she thought of him as her ally. “You’re right,” he told her, taking a step back, a peace offering, a first step. “I shall endeavor to change that.”
Her gaze narrowed in surprise as she looked at him. “Why?”
Pierce chuckled. “That is my secret.”
Chapter Sixteen
Someone
As expected, Mr. Wolsey’s change of attitude was not of a permanent nature.
Sitting in Lady Brockton’s drawing room, Caroline could barely keep from tapping her foot, eagerly awaiting the moment she could feign a headache and excuse herself. When she finally stepped out into the crisp air, Sarah had trouble keeping up with her as she all but rushed down the pavement.
“Perhaps we ought to hail a coach,” her friend suggested, picking up her pace.
Caroline shook her head. “No, I need this.” Her breath came fast, and her legs began to ache and, yet, energy hummed in her muscles, giving her strength and determination to face that horrible man yet again.
According to Mary’s note, he’d broken into his own office and all but destroyed the place. On top of everything, the money used to purchase food from the weekly market had disappeared.
As had Mr. Wolsey.
But no doubt not for long.
When they finally set foot into the orphanage, Caroline felt her skin crawl with each step she took closer to the office. Once there, all blood drained from her face.
The room was not only a mess, it had been all but torn apart. Papers lay scattered and ripped, covering the floor. Shelves had been knocked over, and not a single chair in possession of all four legs remained. Only the large desk seemed to be unharmed as its size and weight had surely prevented Mr. Wolsey from flinging it across the room.
Broken glass gleamed in the soft shine from the shattered window, and Caroline could smell the rank odor of spirits and sweat and anger still lingering on the crisp breeze drifting inside.
“He took everything,” Mary exclaimed on a strangled sob as she appeared beside Caroline. “He went out the window.”
Caroline nodded, and a deep sigh left her lips. “I should’ve found a replacement for him sooner,” she whispered, knowing very well that it was a difficult feat, considering that she needed to keep her identity hidden. Of course, Mr. Wolsey knew who she was, or at least her face. Fortunately, she’d not given him her real name.
Together, the women cleaned up the office as best as they could, throwing out what could not be salvaged and rearranging everything as orderly as possible. They boarded up the window to keep out the chilled air but, with it, also the sun, which forced a dark gloom over the room.
“What shall we do about food?” Mary asked, her face looking contrite. “The storage room is still well-stocked, but it won’t last us for long.”
Caroline swallowed. “I’ll think of something. I promise.” Exchanging a worried glanced with Sarah, they made their way to the front door. “If anything happens,” she told Mary earnestly before stepping outside, “if Mr. Wolsey returns, you send for me immediately, understood?”
Mary’s head bobbed up and down quickly. “I promise, Miss.”
Caroline cast her the ghost of a smile. “I’ll try to find a replacement for him.”
Whispering a final goodbye, Caroline and Sarah walked down the few steps to the pavement and then turned toward home. “What will we do?” Sarah said out loud what they both were thinking. “The money you have left from Lady Woodward will surely be gone soon.”
“Especially now that I need to have another window repaired,” Caroline grumbled, her mind racing with what to do. Sighing, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, then removed the spectacles altogether. “Where can we find a replacement?” she muttered to herself. “Someone reliable. Someone devoted to the children. Someone…someone we can trust.”
Sarah shrugged. “If such a man were easy to find, the world would be a better place.”
Closing her eyes, Caroline stopped in her tracks, fighting the almost overwhelming desire to scream in frustration. She gritted her teeth, then counted to ten slowly, willing her heart to calm and her anger to vanish. She needed to think, and the way her blood boiled in her veins was far from helpful.
“Are you all right?” Sarah mumbled beside her, concern in her voice as she placed a comforting hand on Caroline’s arm. “All will be well. We’ll think of something.”
“Will we?” Caroline mumbled in a moment of utter despair. Most days, she managed to soldier on quite well. But every once in a while, she found herself sucked into a black abyss where no hope existed and only doom and gloom awaited in her future.
“There’s a man coming toward us,” Sarah muttered beside her, her hand on Caroline’s arm tensing in alarm. “I don’t like the look on his face.”
Caroline’s eyes flew open and, for a second, she knew not whether to scream or laugh.
Strolling leisurely down the street toward them was Lord Markham.
His black hair seemed a little ruffled from the wind. However, the rest of him was dressed in a rather meticulous fashion as though he, too, disliked even the smallest
lack of control. His dark gaze drifted over her before meeting her eyes, and Caroline inhaled a steadying breath.
Not since that night at the Cowell ball when he’d dragged her into an empty room had they spoken. She’d seen him lingering nearby at the following two balls but he’d never approached her. Still, she had felt his gaze on her for it never failed to send shivers down her spine.
At first, she’d only thought him a bored lord, seeking to unhinge her for the fun of it alone. However, the way he’d spoken to her that night, that hint of vulnerability in his voice, Caroline could not help but wonder if there was more to him than met the eye. Could it be that he truly cared? That he had not lied? That there was no wager? That he would not reveal what he’d glimpsed of her? That he was simply curious as he had said?
“Miss Hawkins,” the Black Baron greeted her. “How wonderful to see you here…so unexpectedly.” There was a strange twinkle in his eyes as his lips curved up into a smile that made Caroline wonder if their meeting here was indeed unexpected.
For him.
For a second, his gaze traveled to Sarah, and he inclined his head to her in greeting.
Caroline sensed Sarah’s surprise that he would acknowledge her, but chose to ignore it for the time being. Perhaps this was her chance to get a deeper insight into his character. “Indeed, it is, my lord. What brings you here?”
Lord Markham shrugged. “It is such a nice day, I thought I’d take a stroll.” His gaze moved beyond her shoulder and came to linger upon the children’s home. “Were you visiting here?”
Caroline tensed, disliking how close he was coming to her secret. Had it truly been a coincidence that he’d come upon her here? Her eyes narrowed. “Why here?”
His brows drew down and, yet, that twinkle in his eyes never wavered. “I beg your pardon?”
Squaring her shoulders, Caroline fixed him with an inquisitive gaze. “Why did you decide to take a stroll here? Down this street? It is not commonly an area lords and ladies like to frequent.” She glanced around to prove her point.
Lord Markham chuckled, then he leaned closer conspiratorially. “And yet, you are here, my dear Miss Hawkins. Care to tell me what prompted your feet to seek out this place?”
Caroline drew in a slow breath.
“You’re angry with me,” he observed with a chuckle. Then his gaze narrowed before he glanced back and forth between her and the building at her back. “And you don’t want me here. Why is that?”
Gritting her teeth, Caroline simply strode past him, Sarah close on her heels. She heard him call out her name once, a hint of disappointment in his voice, before she rushed around the next corner.
“He’s a dangerous man,” Sarah mumbled, her breath coming fast. “He sees too much.”
Caroline nodded. “I know.”
Clearly, Lord Markham had no intention of staying out of her way. Had he not promised to gain her trust? Well, if he was not trustworthy, after all, she needed to find something—leverage!—to ensure that if he were to unearth her secret, he would not reveal it to anyone. But how? As it was, Caroline had little time to waste. Her days were packed with all those many little things a wallflower did. After all, she needed to keep up appearances.
With her parents.
With the ton.
With her beloved, but nosey cousin.
And on top of that, she had the orphanage to worry about. Where on earth was she to find a suitable replacement for Mr. Wolsey? She could not very well run the children’s home herself. Her days wouldn’t allow for it. But perhaps her nights.
Caroline frowned.
At least for the time being, she thought. Until she could find a replacement.
Of course, it was a risk.
Another one.
Chapter Seventeen
A Life’s Mission
Thanks to Jacob, Pierce knew very well what had his little mouse so upset, and he thought he might know a solution.
“Albert,” he addressed his silent butler upon returning home. “How do you feel about children?” More than once, Pierce had seen the man play hide-and-go-seek with Daphne and Susan or sneak the girls a treat from the kitchen. He was a quiet man, who liked to keep to the background, a calm about him that remained unparalleled. He possessed the kind of disposition Miss Hawkins pretended to have.
Albert’s nonexistent eyebrows rose to his hairline at the admittedly unusual question. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”
“Children,” Pierce repeated, clasping the man’s shoulder in a companionable way. “Do you like them?”
Albert’s pale eyes blinked. “I do, my lord.”
“Good,” Pierce exclaimed with a smile. “Because I have a proposition to put before you.” Albert tensed. “And you must honestly tell me what you think.”
The old man nodded. “I shall, my lord.”
As expected, Albert’s eyes grew round when he heard what Pierce had in mind for him. Panic stood on his face and, yet, Pierce thought he saw a hint of interest lingering in his butler’s pale eyes. Sensing the man’s distress, Pierce told him to take a few days and think things through.
Grateful, Albert shuffled off, paler than Pierce had ever seen him.
Unfortunately, only a few hours later, Pierce found his own face drained of all color when Jacob all but burst into his study. Darkness had long since fallen, and a fierce wind howled through the streets. “My lord,” the young man gasped, his cheeks flushed. “She left the house again.”
Cursing, Pierce shot to his feet. “Where is she?”
“At the children’s home, my lord.” Jacob gulped down another lungful of air. “She left the house a little before midnight.”
Raking his hands through his hair, Pierce paused to stare at his footman for a long moment. “Go and hail a hackney coach.” He turned to rummage through a drawer of his desk. “Tell the driver we need to borrow it for the night.” He tossed a bag of coins at Jacob, who caught it swiftly. “Don’t tell him anything. Only ask where to return the coach.”
“Yes, my lord,” Jacob exclaimed, a sense of duty and importance tightening his features before he darted off.
Dressing quickly, Pierce tucked his black mask into his coat before hurrying outside where a hackney coach was waiting at the curb, Jacob up on the box, his face masked by a large hat. “Well done,” Pierce told him, proud to see the young man’s intuitive grasp of the situation. “You know where to go.”
Without delay, they made their way across town to the children’s home where they found another hackney coach waiting at the curb. Pierce grinned, stepping out onto the pavement, then approached the other driver. “How much is she paying you to wait?” he asked the driver without preamble.
A rather toothless grin completed the greedy gleam in the man’s eyes. Only a minute later, the hackney coach rumbled away down the street, the man’s pockets heavy with coin.
“What now?” Jacob asked as he glanced up at the boarded-up window from which a faint light shone out into the dark.
“Now, we wait,” Pierce told him after Jacob had pulled the horse to a halt in the very spot the other hackney coach had just vacated. “Keep your hat down and your face turned.”
Jacob nodded.
Casting another glance over his shoulder at the illuminated window, Pierce drew up the hood of his cloak. Then he stepped back inside the coach and donned his mask.
At least an hour passed before Jacob rapped on the roof of the coach, signaling that Miss Hawkins was leaving the orphanage. Lifting the edge of the curtain covering the window, Pierce peeked outside. He only caught a faint glimpse of her before he dropped the curtain back in place, then retreated to the far corner of the coach, his heart thudding wildly in anticipation.
He had, indeed, missed her.
Missed the heated exchange she allowed when no one was looking.
The muffled sound of her voice drifted to his ears before the door was opened and she stepped inside, sinking onto the bench opposite him with an exhausted sigh. Her
eyes closed as her head leaned back against the seat, her arms limp as they all but hung at her sides.
The coach pulled out into the street, its soft swaying drawing another sigh from her lips.
“You look exhausted,” Pierce commented dryly.
With a shriek, his little mouse shot upright, her eyes flying open in panic, searching the dark interior before settling on him. “You again?” she gasped, anger mingling with the flutter in her voice. “Have you made it your life’s mission to frighten me half to death?” She breathed heavily, one hand pressed to her chest, as she glared at him.
Pierce chuckled behind his mask. “You must admit there’s a simple solution to that.” His gaze raked over her face, and his heart rejoiced at the change in her appearance.
The rose blush of her cheeks.
The dark glow of her curls.
The unhindered look into her blue eyes.
“Why are you here?” she demanded as her breathing calmed. “As you can see, I’m not walking the streets of London alone.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Still, you’re out about town on your own. That is not wise.”
His little mouse scoffed. “Says the man who robs people for a living.”
Pierce could not deny that her low opinion of him was irritating. “I only ever rob those who do not deserve what they possess.”
Her gaze narrowed as her arms moved to cross over her chest in imitation of him. “Then why did you rob me? The money in that pouch was intended for the orphanage.” She swallowed, and he could see that she disliked discussing such matters with him. “I suppose you know that by now. Otherwise, why would you be here?” Her nose crinkled slightly. “Have you been following me again?”
Noting they were getting a bit off topic, Pierce surged to his feet, then moved to sit beside her.
Instantly, she scrambled to the far corner of her seat. “Do you have to sit there?” she snapped, her back all but pressed against the window.
