Clarissa was right. Perhaps Lydia needed to consider these circumstances an opportunity—a chance to help Jeremy find hope again.
And furthermore, she wasn’t ready to give up on love quite yet.
With determination chasing away her doubts, she met Clarissa’s gaze. “He’s meeting us at the warehouse tomorrow at noon. If he agrees, he won’t be free to walk away from his commitment as easily as he walked away from me before.”
“Not if Baxter has anything to say about it,” Clarissa mused. “And regardless, you and I are going to improve the lives of hundreds of children. How can anyone turn their back on something so worthwhile?”
But Lydia had never seen anyone’s eyes look as cold as Jeremy’s did today.
“It’s a beginning, anyhow,” Clarissa added and Lydia nodded.
Or it could be the end. The proverbial nail in the coffin of what might have been.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Jeremy planted his cane on the road, sounding an even thumping rhythm as he neared the entrance of the Tuesday Warehouse, located on the corner of Tuesday and Wapping. Since his own office was located nearby, he’d decided to cover the distance to the warehouse on foot and instructed his driver to pick him up here at noon—he glanced down at his fob watch—in one hour’s time.
A few urchins dashed past him and ducked into an alleyway, likely looking for trouble. He twisted his mouth into a wry grimace. He supposed these were precisely the sort of residents Lydia wanted for her orphanage.
With the engineer’s report tucked safely in his jacket pocket, he was tempted to tell her the structure wasn’t sound. She had no business taking on such a project anyhow—saving thieving orphans, for shite’s sake.
She was naught much more than a child herself.
If he kept telling himself that, he just might believe it.
A dark figure pacing up ahead caught his eye, and when he recognized her graceful profile, a drumbeat pounded in his head.
What in the hell was she doing loitering outside on her own? At the docks, the section crawling with the worst vermin humanity had to offer?
She turned her head and waved, looking… so Lydia-like.
Seeing her again… it was too much. He set his jaw and increased his pace, refusing to soften just because he would be in the presence of sunshine and light.
He had no option but to work with her… to ensure this little venture was a successful one.
He’d been given no choice but to step in like some sort of hero. Jeremy shook his head. That wasn’t why he was here. That wasn’t why he was doing any of this.
Fucking Baxton. He glanced up and down the street, looking for earl’s conveyance, and seeing none, cursed under his breath when Lydia turned to offer him one of those damn smiles.
“Tell me you aren’t here alone.” His gaze roved down her lush figure.
She could wear one of her maid’s gowns, rub dirt on her face, and go barefoot, for all he cared, but Lydia Cockfield did not belong anywhere near White Chapel.
“My driver is around the corner, so I’m not really alone. Lady Baxton sent word this morning that Little Alex wasn’t feeling well, so they won’t be coming. And since I didn’t want to put this off…” She shrugged. “The door’s open. Have you heard back from your engineers yet?”
Jeremy clenched his fists together, tempted to tell Baxton precisely where he could shove any other reputation-repairing suggestions he might offer in the future. If the numbers weren’t good enough for his potential investors then…
He sighed.
Because he needed the investors.
“I have.” He stepped toward the warehouse, and the door opened outward with a scraping sound. The scent of the docks—tar, whale blubber, and… something that distinctly resembled decades of perspiration—hung even heavier inside than it had on the street.
“And…?” She skipped along beside him.
“No major issues.”
She didn’t appear surprised, nor did she smirk victoriously as she entered the building. He’d known she wouldn’t—not unless he goaded her. As long as he’d known Lydia, she’d been sweet, kind, and exhibited perfect manners.
Hell, she’d practically been raised to be a countess—his, to be specific.
It hadn’t been discussed openly, especially after the fire that swept through Heart Place, killing her parents when Lydia and her twin were only four and leaving Blackheart to take over the dukedom.
It wasn’t long after the fire that his own father passed.
But before that, there had been an unspoken understanding between their parents that he’d marry the oldest twin. He could have dispelled it, but, as Lydia had grown from a child into a young woman, he’d become more and more fond of the idea.
He swallowed hard, disgusted with himself for missing the friendships they’d all formed in the wake of their personal tragedies.
Friendships that were nothing more than ashes now.
Jeremy stared up at the ceiling, some thirty feet up, and then swept his gaze around the empty warehouse. Fluttering sounds had him noticing the white droppings on the floor. Of course, her orphanage was already filling up with all manner of feathered friends.
Wonderful.
“The open space allows for all sorts of possibilities.”
Her enthusiasm was unmistakable in how she all but danced into the empty area. Watching her, bittersweet longing crept over him—the memory of watching her dance under other circumstances. At one of the village country dances, and then later, with her brother at her come out.
Jeremy had been unable to request a dance for himself, as he’d already been in mourning. But she’d known he’d been watching, and she’d caught his eye as she twirled around and sent him a dazzling smile.
He shouldn’t have attended at all but he hadn’t been able to help himself. Because she asked me to be there.
“The kitchen will be built in back.” She pointed toward a staircase. “Classrooms and sleeping chambers upstairs.”
“What do you intend to use this massive area for?”
“Playing.” She smiled back at him. “It will be safe, dry, supervised, and when necessary, can be converted for fundraising events. But we’ll be able to host garden parties as well. There is an area outside for a vegetable garden, but there must also be flowers.”
He cocked an eyebrow at that, and she lifted her chin defiantly.
“Beauty is one of life’s necessities. It soothes wounded souls.”
For an instant, he saw it through her unjaded eyes. But only for an instant.
“These… children. They have never been taught right from wrong. There will be discipline issues. They will likely rob the orphanage blind and the older ones will bully the younger ones.”
He almost felt bad as some of the excitement left her eyes. But it was better this way. Better she did not enter into this venture wearing rose-tinted spectacles.
“You said it yourself,” she finally broke the silence. “Some things are worth it.”
She was not broken; she was not ready to give up. She appeared to be as determined as ever.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, and then followed her as she strolled across the room, their shoes echoing off the ceiling and walls. “It’s dangerous, Lydia.”
“I know.” She spun around to face him. “I’m well aware, as is Lady Baxter. We have budgeted for security and close supervision—both during the daytime and at night. The children will have proper teachers and a nurse. I can afford the building and much of the renovation. But after that… That’s where your money comes in. At least until we can begin hosting art exhibitions and concerts to attract other sponsors.”
“So, you won’t be draining my coffers indefinitely.”
“We will not, unless of course, you cannot bear to walk away from us…” They’d been teasing, but at these words, the spark in her eyes flickered and she bit her bottom lip.
Feeling a twinge of guilt, Jeremy ignore
d the hurt in her eyes and rocked on his heels. She had obviously done her research. Her expectations appeared to be realistic, and her conviction to seeing this through seemed firm.
She said beauty soothed the soul. Her beauty would soothe any man’s soul.
But not mine.
“Baxter sent the terms over yesterday.”
She jerked her head up, blue eyes clear and intelligent.
God, he’d missed her.
After spending less than an hour in her company, he was having difficulty summoning the great bitterness he held for her brothers. He’d felt an inkling of it when she’d first stepped into Baxter’s office, but today…
All he saw was her.
He would help her with her orphanage. Someone had to. It might as well be him. Blackheart was a fool for leaving her with no one but an elderly aunt to keep her in check.
“Have you decided then?” She didn’t sound timid. She sounded as though she was presenting him with a brilliant opportunity.
“I’ll provide the funds.”
* * *
Lydia’s first inclination was to bounce on her toes in excitement and clasp her hands together in joy. Her second inclination was to stifle the urge.
But this was Jeremy.
She responded with something in between. “That’s marvelous!”
But she did not jump forward and throw her arms around his neck as she’d really like to. And she absolutely did not press her mouth against his.
But this was a step in the right direction.
“On one condition.” He folded his arms across his chest, and she could almost believe he was only pretending to glare down at her.
Nonetheless, she tempered her excitement. “And that is?”
“You are never to come here without protection again.”
“But I—”
“And your driver does not count.”
Surely, he couldn’t be serious.
“I’m serious.” Drat!
He was not mock glaring at her now. This was all out, straightforward glowering.
“I’ll have the term added to the contract.”
Lydia signed. “That won’t be necessary.” It was a little thing, really. And once construction was underway, the building would be buzzing with activity—around the clock, if she had any say. “I won’t come here alone.”
She met his gaze in an attempt to convey her sincerity, and his softened.
For a moment, she could almost believe they’d gone back in time. But then—
“Oh!” She ducked and shouted out when a bird swooped down at her from the rafters. It didn’t really come close, but…
Jeremy was looking grim again.
“I’ve seen enough. Once I’ve studied the plans, I’ll do a thorough walkthrough with the project foreman.” He grasped her elbow, steering her toward the door.
“We have preliminary plans drawn up. I’m afraid I didn’t think to bring them.”
“You can send them to my offices by messenger.”
“You have offices?” Lydia glanced over at him.
“Did you think I spent all my time pursuing leisure?”
He pushed the door open, and they stepped outside again. Without fail, the scent of the docks energized her. “You are dabbling in commerce?” It made sense, really. Although quiet and watchful, he’d always kept himself busy.
He was a good deal like Blackheart in that way. Only without the bossiness of her brother.
“I’m purchasing a shipping company—Ludwig Bros.” Rather than showing any sort of excitement, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.
“And this is why Lord Baxter insisted you help me? You need to convince some of his wealthy friends to invest?”
He turned her in the direction where her driver ought to be waiting. “Perhaps.”
Lydia walked silently. She’d heard of Ludwig Shipping before. She’d overheard Lucas and Blackheart discussing it. A shiver ran through her, and Jeremy pulled her closer.
He could act the uncaring rogue all he liked, but when push came to shove, he would always be a gentleman.
The street came into view, and she frowned. “Coachman John said he’d wait right here.”
Jeremy pursed his lips and then gave her an admonishing look.
“I’ve no doubt he’ll return shortly,” she added.
If either of them had been paying attention to their surroundings, Lydia might have been able to defend herself against the small boy who appeared from nowhere and slammed into her legs.
Jeremy prevented her from losing her balance, but she dropped her reticule.
“Pardon me,” she began. The poor child was collecting her belongings for her, but when she reached out for them, he spun around, and from what she could tell, had all intentions of dashing off with it.
And he would have succeeded if Jeremy wasn’t so agile.
The boy was skin and bones, his trousers too small, his shirt filthy, and his jacket at least three sizes too large.
Her grim-looking companion dangled the poor thing by his collar.
“Going somewhere?” He lowered the child so his feet touched the pavement again but didn’t loosen his hold. “I believe you have something that belongs to this lady.”
The boy squirmed. He couldn’t be much older than five or six and looked as though he hadn’t eaten a full meal in weeks. He had full lips and a face that resembled those in paintings. But his eyes… they were a violet color, almost too large for his face, set wide and fringed with thick, dark lashes.
Rather than childlike innocence, however, suspicion and contempt lurked in them.
“Le’ me go, Mister! Your ‘urtin’ me!” He twisted his little mouth, and a deep scowl etched on his forehead, barely visible behind shaggy black strands of hair.
Lydia couldn’t help but notice that his fingernails were overly long and terribly dirty.
“You’ll do well to hand over the lady’s purse, first.”
The child’s struggling stopped, and he frowned. “’Ere ya go.” He held out her reticule, and Lydia cautiously took it from him.
“And your other hand.” Jeremy jerked the boy, who whipped his face around to stare up at him in surprise.
“I don’t ‘ave nuthin’ else—”
Jeremy jerked him again, and the boy turned back, opening his other hand to reveal the small coin purse that had been in her reticule.
Lydia took it but then promptly loosened the strings and opened it. “A reward for finding this for me.” She placed a coin into the boy’s hand.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lydia!” Jeremy dropped his head back, rolling his eyes. “A reward?”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” She ignored him in favor of the boy.
Those violet eyes narrowed. “Wot do ya need wif me name?”
“My name is Lydia. I’m purchasing the Tuesday Warehouse to open an orphanage. I simply wanted to know to whom I might extend a personal invitation.”
“I don’ loike orphanages.”
“But there will be plenty of food for children like you, and toys, and a warm bed. I just thought I’d let you know. There will be dozens of builders fixing it up over the next several weeks. And when it’s finished, you are welcome to come take a look. Even before it’s finished, if you like. Just ask for me.”
“Liddy?”
She laughed. It was close enough. “And your name is…?”
“Me name is Ollie.”
“An apology for Lady Lydia, Ollie,” Jeremy said.
Lydia could see that Jeremy’s hold was beginning to loosen. A gust of very cold wind chose that moment to rush down the street, and even as she longed for the comfort of a warm fire and a hot cup of tea, her heart ached knowing that this child wouldn’t have either.
“I apologize, M’ Lydy.” Ollie shivered, and Lydia glanced at Jeremy with a wince.
A carriage pulled up beside them, but it wasn’t one of her brother’s. “Hold this.” Jeremy slid Ollie’s collar into her hand.
“Don’t let him get away.” Lydia obeyed even though she did not really believe that the child would run from her.
Jeremy shot a warning glance in Ollie’s direction before greeting the driver.
His driver.
Opening the door, he reached inside and went rummaging through the box beneath the bench seat. While trying to see what Jeremy was up to, Lydia clung to Ollie, not because she wanted to imprison him so much as she wasn’t willing to watch him disappear into the cold to god only knew where.
When Jeremy emerged, he was holding a bundle of…
Clothing.
“Here, why don’t you try this one?”
Lydia loosened her hold as Jeremy assisted the child out of the oversized flimsy jacket he’d been wearing and into a properly sized woolen one. He then promptly wrapped a scarf around Ollie’s little neck.
Lydia rolled her lips together, nearly overwhelmed by the urge to cry. Grateful for, and a little stunned by Jeremy’s gesture, she watched Ollie scoop his old jacket off the ground and take a step backward.
“No more slamming into ladies, understand?” Jeremy pinned his gaze on the boy, who was looking more than a little surprised by this turn of events.
“Aw wite, mister.” And then he bolted, vanishing as quickly as he’d appeared.
Coachman John, driving one of the Blackheart carriages, chose that moment to pull up behind Jeremy’s less-pretentious-looking one.
“This is my ride.” She gestured, staring up at him, feeling awkward all of a sudden. Jeremy was not a hopeless cause at all.
He glared back at her with cold eyes. “Go home, Lydia,” he growled. “And don’t come back alone. If I discover otherwise, you won’t see a penny of my money.”
But she found herself biting back a grin. “Thank you, Jeremy,” she said, walking backward toward the second carriage.
“Go home, Lydia.”
Chapter 4
The following day, Lydia sat across the room from her aunt in the drawing room, staring down at a book but not comprehending any of it. Not for the first time, the memory of Jeremy aiding little Ollie the day before played itself over in her mind.
Earl of Tempest: The Wicked Earls Club Page 3
