Arms folded, he stared morosely at the fashionable shoppers hurrying along the pavement. So where did that leave him? How was he to earn a proper living if his only discernible talent was for picking pockets? He had not felt so lost and confused since he was an orphan growing up in a workhouse. Two decades later, could he say he was any better off?
LADY FAITH ROSEMARY Went, only daughter of the Duke of Burley, cuddled a tiny black kitten she had found shivering on a corner of Bond Street where she and her chaperone, Mrs. Hutchinson, had come to shop.
“My lady,” Mrs. Hutchinson said, “you should not have picked up that wretched animal. It might bite you.”
“Does your heart not stir for this poor little mite’s plight, Mrs. Hutchinson? It is terrified and hungry. We should hurry home so we can give it a good brushing and a bowl of milk.”
“We have not purchased the ribbons we came for.” The elderly lady hurried up the pavement, gesturing for Faith to follow. “There is the shop we wished to visit. Come this way, and pray put that dirty animal down. The shop owner will not allow it inside.”
“Forget the ribbons. I wish to go home now.”
“Lady Faith?”
Faith looked up and gave a startled gasp. She tightened her hold on the kitten in her arms. In protest, the little animal sunk its claws into her arm through the material of her cloak, making her jump.
“Pardon me for intruding, Lady Faith,” the gentleman said, “but we have met. Do you recall? We were recently introduced at Almack’s.” The man she remembered as Mr. Granger bowed. He was dressed all in black except for a waistcoat of brilliant patterned chartreuse.
“How do you do?” Mrs. Hutchinson curtsied to him and sidled closer to Faith.
Faith was glad of her support—she was wary of this gentleman. She did indeed recall their first meeting, as well as the numerous ones since then. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if he was following her.
Earlier today, when her father’s carriage had dropped her and Mrs. Hutchinson off up the street, she thought she had seen him again. That appallingly bright waistcoat was hard to miss. This time, however, he no longer seemed to be hugging the shadows.
She had been tempted to get back into the carriage and leave when she had first caught sight of him. And now that she had found the kitten, her desire to return home had become even stronger.
“What is that thing you are holding?” he asked.
“A horrid little street animal,” Mrs. Hutchinson said. “I have been trying to convince Lady Faith that she should get rid of it before it bites her.”
“It is an innocent little creature and perfectly sweet,” Faith said from between clenched teeth, no longer pleased with her companion. She gently rocked the kitten. “It needs our help.”
“Mrs. Hutchinson is correct,” Mr. Granger said. “It was unwise to pick it up. It is probably diseased.”
Then, before Faith realized what he was up to, he plucked the kitten out of her grasp and chucked it onto the pavement. The kitten let out a frightened mew and raced away.
“Oh, what you have done?” Faith cried indignantly and exclaimed in horror as the kitten avoided a shopper’s feet and sped across the road, skirting between carriage wheels.
She ran in its wake, ignoring her companion’s shouts of alarm.
Several minutes later, Faith finally stopped. She had traversed two lanes, but had completely lost sight of the little black kitten. Gasping for breath, she checked ahead and back but could see neither the cat nor her companion. Thankfully, she had also lost sight of Mr. Granger, the only benefit of her mad dash.
Disappointment burned in her chest at having lost the poor little kitten though. How would it survive in this busy street where everyone seemed more interested in what they could purchase for themselves than what they might do for a starving little animal? She paced back and forth, wringing her handkerchief. Should she go back? She would have to, eventually. What if Mr. Granger was still with her companion? Then she saw him, thirty paces away. Her breath caught in her chest, choking her.
Instinctively, she pirouetted and hurried in the opposite direction. Then, miracle of miracles, she saw her kitten turn down a side street. It had to be the same one. How many stray black kittens could there be in this section of London?
She raced toward it and then, hoping not to frighten it more, she slowly bent to pick it up. But before she could reach it, a child’s hand grabbed the animal. The boy gave her a cheeky grin and then raced away to join a group of street children. The lot of them could not be more than eight or nine years old.
She hurried toward them to say that kitten was hers and perhaps offer to purchase it. Surely their families could use the funds more than one more mouth to feed.
They turned and fled.
Skirts lifted, she gave chase. “Stop! That is my kitten.”
Chapter Two
A GROUP OF laughing street urchins carrying a kitten ran past Daniel, and in their wake followed a lady in white, like an avenging angel, calling to them to return her pet.
Daniel’s instinct for sensing trouble stirred. Those children were up to no good. He knew it because when younger, he had been one of those children. Though animal cruelty had never been in his makeup, he had been more than ready to cause trouble. Especially for well-to-do adults.
He wanted to go after the lady in white and offer his assistance. A quick check inside the bookshop showed Miss Wood immersed in a thick volume. He tapped the window. The librarian barely glanced up before she waved him away.
Daniel was about to hurry after the lady when a man barreled past him, hot on the angel’s trail. Daniel liked this man’s demeanor even less than that of the street children. There was a mean look to him as he rudely shoved shoppers aside in his single-minded pursuit of the angel in white.
Daniel rapped the Hatchard’s window again. This time when he and Miss Wood made eye contact, he gestured that he was leaving so she would stay inside the shop. Then he held up his fingers to indicate how long he might be gone.
Miss Wood tripled his time with a flash of her fingers.
Sighing in relief, he hurried after the lady in white. Halfway up the street, he caught up to the burly gentleman and deliberately jostled his shoulder. The man swung around and his hat fell off. He swore and bent to retrieve it.
“My apologies, sir,” Daniel said as he sped past him. But in the delay, he had lost sight of the lady in white. For a few heart-stopping moments, he searched each side street without an angelic sighting, and then, finally, there she was!
His quarry had rounded a corner far ahead. Breathing a profound sigh of relief, Daniel raced after her. A check over his shoulder confirmed they had lost the man in black. Good.
He wanted to shout, “Stop running, you are safe.” But that would draw undesirable attention to her. So he released a silent expletive and sped after the foolish young woman. She probably did not realize that she had entered a treacherous area of the city. His pulse beating a rapid tattoo of fear, he abandoned his attempts to blend into the pedestrians and sprinted to where the roads were filthier and the company lower class. They were now in a perilous section of London that Daniel had once called home.
She disappeared down an alley beside a public house. Before he could reach her, he heard a shout. He flew across the pavement, pushed aside a staggering drunk, and there she was. He stumbled to a halt. “Pardon me.”
The lady ignored him. Her focus was aimed at the tallest of four boys holding the squirming kitten. “Give me that kitten!”
“Is this yours, miss?” The boy held the black creature higher and moved back a step. His calculating gaze switched from his companions, who egged him on, to his female victim. “What’s it worth to ya to get it back?”
She would have gone up to the boy, but Daniel stopped her.
The la
dy swung around in fury. “Release me, sir!”
“That would be my pleasure,” he said, “but take one more step and you will dirty your shoes.” And they were pretty shoes. Certainly far better made than his thrice-passed-on boots.
“What do I care about my footwear?” Nevertheless, she glanced downward. Directly in front of her was a mound of horse manure. Another step and she would have been ankle-deep in the muck, as the boys had no doubt hoped.
The kitten tormentor laughed.
“You have had your jest,” Daniel said in a low threatening tone. “Now, run along. You will not make a penny here, but a thrashing, now that is possible. First, give the lady her cat.”
“Aw, gov’nor,” the bold lad said, “we were just havin’ some fun. Here, miss, you want this useless thing back? Take it.” He flung the kitten hard toward the pile of dung.
“Oh, no!” the lady cried.
Daniel deftly caught the ball of fur with his left hand. In thanks, the tiny creature clawed him as it scampered up his arm. Once it reached his shoulder, it pasted itself to his neck and quivered. He took a step toward the boys, and they ran away.
“Oh, sir, how may I thank you?” The lady took hold of his bleeding left hand and her gentle touch sent sparks shooting along his arm. “Sir, you have injured yourself.”
Ignoring the bloody scratches on his wrist, she stroked his malformed little finger. Mortified, he hid his hand. He never let anyone see that. How could he have been so careless?
“If you wish to help, my lady, take your little hellion off me.” The dirty ball of fur had injected piercing claws through his cravat, wool coat, and shirt to nip at his shoulder.
Ignoring the kitten, which she had risked her life to rescue, she gazed at him with a concerned frown. Finally, her attention shifted to the furball and Daniel released a pent-up breath, his chest burning.
“It likes you,” she said, sounding surprised. She pried the kitten off his neck and once she had it tucked into the crook of her arm, it set to purring. Who would not?
He glanced around, astounded by the danger in which she had placed herself. What if he had not followed her? “What a hare-brained scheme, chasing after a kitten.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said with a forbidding frown.
Daniel gave her an equally disapproving glance. “This is an unsafe quarter. Thieves and cutthroats ply these lanes. Do you not realize where you are?”
“Of course I do.” She lifted her pert nose in defiance, displaying a breathtaking pair of deep emerald eyes. A princess glaring at an impudent peasant. “I thank you for your assistance, sir, but it is no longer required.”
She flounced past him.
“That way leads to St. Giles’s rookery,” he said. He should know. He had spent a good part of his childhood surviving among its stagnant pools, dung heaps, rubbish, and unburied corpses. He flashed a cheeky grin when his green-eyed lady hesitated.
She tramped in the other direction, hips swinging engagingly. She had no sense, but she definitely had pluck. He enjoyed watching her walk a few steps before he said, “That way lies Seven Dials.”
Once upon a time, a Mr. Randolph Trenton had caught ten-year-old Daniel picking his pocket in Seven Dials.
With his right wrist firmly trapped, young Daniel had squirmed to get free, his heart rattling in terror. Didn’t mean nothing, sir. Let me go. I won’t do it no more. I promise.
What is your name, lad? the man had asked.
D’niel.
Daniel what?
That’s all I was given, sir.
The man had stared at him in silence and then he said, Every boy deserves a last name.
Instead of turning him over to a constable, Mr. Trenton had then taken Daniel home to meet his wife, who fed him his first warm meal in a year. Then the couple offered him a cot to sleep on instead of the alley corner he had called home. They taught to say “please” and “thank you,” to read and write, and add sums. Eventually, Mr. Trenton had even given Daniel his last name.
Daniel’s memory of that brief happy time with the Trentons brought an ache to his chest, because the couple had died of cholera three short years after they had taken Daniel in, sending him back to the workhouse. But he never forgot the life lessons they had instilled in him. He shook off those bittersweet memories.
The lady in white tucked the kitten closer before returning to his side. She did not meet his gaze. “Sir, would you kindly escort me back to Piccadilly? You will be well rewarded.”
The promise of payment was unnecessary. Since the day Mr. Trenton had caught Daniel by the wrist, Daniel had felt honor-bound to repay that act of uncommon kindness by assisting any who needed his help. He placed a hand at her elbow and ushered her forward. At his first touch, his fingers quivered.
She glanced at him. He was unsure if she had felt his reaction or had one of her own. Her cheeks had grown rosy. She licked her upper lip and he looked away before that sensual motion completely ensnared him.
For the first time in months, he had forgotten his problems. Being in the company of this green-eyed angel had made him feel alive, as if the world were suddenly a brighter place. He hurried on. What was wrong with him? After mooning over Lady Roselyn, he should know better than to be taken with another lady of high station.
“Thank you for saving my kitten.” She hurried to keep up with his longer strides. “Sir, pray, slow down.”
He reduced his speed.
“Why are you cross?” she asked, catching her breath.
“You will breathe easier if you save your words.”
She stopped in her tracks so he had no choice but to release his hold on her. “Answer my question, sir.”
“I see no need to.” He indicated their surroundings.
She looked around—as if for the first time—at the narrow lane and the dark alleys leading off into who knew what danger. She had not been paying attention to where he took her! He could have been guiding her into even worse straits.
He let out a loud sigh. What an innocent.
Her study returned to him, and then she chuckled. Her smiling gaze pierced his gloom and delved into his lonely soul to envelop him in warmth. Daniel tried to quash that awkward sensation.
“This is the first time I have been alone in the company of a gentleman,” she said, as if that explained her humor.
It did not.
“I have always pictured the event taking place in my mama’s drawing room, not in an unsavory part of town.”
It was odd, this pull she had on him to want to ask after her name, and how she could find this hot, dismal, and malodorous world so entertaining.
He had to end this now. “For your information, my lady,” he said in a harsh voice, “I am not a gentleman. I am a servant, a thief, or a blackguard, depending on my mood.”
His flat pronouncement made her eyes widen. They sparkled like the sea at daybreak and made him long for a swim. Strange that, since he was deathly afraid of water.
Her beguiling gaze thankfully left him to search the crowded street. Did she see the unaccompanied children, pickpockets, women scouring for custom of the intimate sort, and tough men seeking trouble, fools to sell as “spirits” into a lifetime of servitude aboard sailing vessels?
This was his world. The disparity in their situations was stark. His glance fell to a spot on his right boot where his big toe had worked its way through the top. Time for a new pair. Perhaps he would luck onto some only twice-passed-around.
“Recently, sir, I have had the misfortune to become acquainted with a blackguard.” Her gaze captured his with confidence. “I assure you, you are nothing like him.”
He frowned, interested despite himself. Did she speak about the man in black? “What did he do to earn your displeasure?”
As she scratche
d the kitten under its chin, she looked alone and vulnerable again. Even though he had not formally met this blackguard, Daniel wanted to run him through for bringing that hint of fear into her naive world.
“What did he do?” he asked again.
A tiny frown appeared between her perfect brows. “I said nothing because it makes little sense. We were in a crowded ballroom. Yet, I felt defenseless. His expression alarmed me.”
“He wants you.” Daniel stated the obvious. Who would not want her? She was dazzling. He likely had that look right now.
She glared at him. “I do not want him. Or any man.”
Daniel laughed at that absurd proclamation. If any woman was made for loving, this one was.
The lady’s eyes narrowed with displeasure.
He schooled his features. “You are a lady, a wealthy one, by your appearance. You have a right to choose your dancing partner. Next time he begs a dance, simply say no.”
“I did. Mr. Granger grew quiet and his eyes turned steely. I thought he would argue, but he bowed and left.”
“There you have it.” He indicated they should continue walking.
Once they had returned to the respectable section of town where propriety mattered more than politeness, passing pedestrians watched them with disapproving curiosity. A timely reminder that he had no business conversing with a lady of her class. And she should not be here with him, alone.
“Then why was he following me?” She spilled the whole story then, of this Granger speaking to her on the street and then heartlessly plucking her kitten out of her arms and flinging it onto the street. “So I ran to pick it up again. Then that boy took it. I could tell he meant to do it harm, so I gave chase. And then you came to our rescue. You are a true gentleman.”
“You know nothing about me.” He folded his arms. He might not be a lawbreaker anymore, but neither was he anyone’s champion. In fact, he felt as lost as that kitten she so tenderly cuddled. “I could be as dangerous as your Mr. Granger.”
She took a step closer, bringing a fresh scent of pinched lavender and her essence with her. An intoxicating combination. He breathed it in deep. Fool!
A Scorching Dilemma Page 2
