“Are you certain you feel well enough to venture to the dock?” Samuel asked.
“Stronger every day.” In truth, Marcus’s injuries still bothered him, but he could no longer wait to discover what was happening with his business. His ship was scheduled to depart again in a week. He wanted to know for certain what cargo it carried before that.
His doctor had admired his angel’s sewing ability, decided against re-suturing as Marcus had lost enough blood, applied iodine, and bandaged both cuts. The scars Marcus bore were a reminder that he’d nearly lost his life, but they also reminded him of the lovely angel who’d saved him. Soon the scar would fade, leaving nothing but a faint mark, much like his memory of the woman who’d saved him—if he could convince Samuel to release his insistence that they find her.
“Let me know when you’re ready to venture to the dock.”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll be back shortly.” The footman hurried out the door to change into his street clothes, which drew less attention than his uniform.
Marcus would never find someone as loyal as Samuel, but his pigheadedness about the de Wolfe legend was about to drive Marcus crazed. He could only hope Samuel would shift his focus to the problem with his ship instead. That was what they both needed to concentrate on.
Tessa took a sip of lukewarm tea in the tiny sitting area in the small apartment above the shop, enjoying a brief rest from the busy morning. She and Aunty Betty had been working since eight that morning, helping their five apprentices with mending before they started lessons for the day.
Mending was a skill every girl needed, whether they worked in the industry or became a wife and mother. Taking in mending helped the shop pay the bills, but that wasn’t the future Tessa planned for the girls. They needed far more desirable skills than that. Skills that would pay better and actually provide them with a living rather than merely an existence.
She glanced over her shoulder to make certain none of the girls had come upstairs. Then she leaned forward to catch her aunt’s attention.
“Did you hear the girls talking while we were assisting Mrs. Attwater earlier?” she asked.
“No, I don’t believe I did.” Aunt Betty glanced up from a magazine. It was the one indulgence she allowed herself. She enjoyed admiring the pictures of the fine gowns and also gained ideas as to what might sell in the shop. While they didn’t normally design dresses, they’d done a few, mostly so the girls could learn to fit gowns properly. They also sold a few items, including handkerchiefs and undergarments.
“Sally told them she heard of a new way to earn easy money quickly. She said she is meeting someone this afternoon to learn more.”
“What can that be about?” Aunt Betty appeared taken aback. “I thought she was happy here.”
“As did I.” Several times in the past week, she’d entered the shop and noted a hush falling over the girls. Obviously, they’d been speaking about something of which they didn’t think she’d approve.
She and her mother’s sister barely carved out a living from their little shop as most of their profit went toward paying wages to the girls, something that made their apprenticeship unique. Far more important to Tessa than earning money was teaching the girls a trade to keep them off the streets. If not for Aunt Betty, Tessa would’ve been forced onto the streets herself.
Each year, Tessa searched orphanages and workhouses for girls who might need their assistance. Girls who had little chance of working at any place other than a manufacturer. Conditions were often terrible in such factories. Some girls didn’t survive. Others aged far too quickly. All in all, it was a hard life, though still preferable to working in a brothel. Tessa didn’t wish either occupation on anyone.
Tessa and her aunt taught the girls a variety of special needlework to embellish clothing—anything that paid more than simple mending. They chose the girls carefully, for the shop hours were long and the work mind-numbing at times. The girls had to have the desire to learn in order to spend the needed time to improve their skills enough to go on to work at a fine dressmaker’s.
As each girl completed her apprenticeship, Tessa found another to take her place. One they could mentor and guide along to a better life. She only wished they could help more.
Sally’s talk of easy money worried Tessa. She feared the girl was being lured away into something terrible with false promises.
“There’s no purpose in questioning her about it. That will gain you nothing,” her aunt warned with a shake of her head.
“True. The girl has a stubborn side to her.” Tessa would gain more ground if she knew exactly what Sally was getting into. “If you hear her making any plans, will you please tell me? Perhaps I can follow her and see where she goes.”
“Very well, dear, but do take care. Who knows what that girl is up to? She’s developed a bit of a wild streak.”
“Indeed she has.” Sally turned fifteen a week ago and now thought herself grown up enough to make her own decisions. She no longer appreciated advice from Tessa and Aunt Betty. At the age of four and twenty, Tessa felt ancient compared to Sally.
She finished her tea and set down her cup. “I intend to keep a close eye on her. I would feel terrible if something happened.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Aunt Betty put aside her magazine. “We’d best see how the girls are progressing. I have a mind to show them a new embroidery pattern we could stitch on silk scarves and sell in the shop. They might be a lovely gift.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Tessa said, pleased to have something new to share with the girls. “Perhaps we could encourage their activities by offering them some of the profit from the sales.”
“That would be a helpful lesson, wouldn’t it? A fine example of business. Shall we see how they receive the notion?”
Tessa made her way to the first floor where the shop was located with Aunt Betty directly behind her. Once again, the girls’ conversation halted when they entered the room. Tessa’s concern increased. That couldn’t be a good sign.
She shared a worried look with her aunt.
“Mrs. Davison has a splendid new project to share with us,” Tessa announced, forcing a smile to her lips. If she couldn’t find joy in this job, how could she expect the girls to do so?
The rest of the morning passed quickly, and the girls seemed quite enthusiastic over the new project. Several designed their own patterns for the embroidery embellishment once Aunt Betty showed them what she had in mind. Tessa would need additional silk to make more scarves before long, assuming they sold well.
When the time came for the mid-day meal, Sally rose from her chair. “I have an errand to run during our luncheon.”
“Oh? I assume you won’t be late returning.” Tessa tried to give them some freedom, but it was important they learn to respect time and be prompt.
“Not at all, miss. I’ll be quick as I can.” She gave one of the other girls a wink while she retrieved her cloak from the peg behind the door.
Sally had only just closed the door behind her when Tessa rose. “I must pick up that cloth we ordered.” She gave her aunt a meaningful look, hoping she understood that she wanted to follow Sally.
“Yes, of course,” Aunt Betty agreed, giving her a nod. “Do be careful out there.”
Her words gave Tessa pause, but she pushed aside her doubt and hurried out the door, hoping to catch sight of Sally. If Sally ventured into one of the more dangerous areas of the city, that was all the more reason for Tessa to follow her. She might need assistance.
A glance up and down the street revealed Sally’s simple gray bonnet with its red ribbon bobbing down the street. Tessa wove through the crowded sidewalk as quickly as possible so that she might catch up with her.
Soon Tessa realized Sally was walking toward the dock. What on earth could she be doing there? Tessa’s unease increased threefold.
Chapter Three
Tessa lost sight of Sally amidst the crowded street. To where had she disappeared? The dock swarmed
with workers, from grimy men carting goods on their shoulders to clerks hurrying by with papers clutched tightly to sailors recognizable by their sunburned faces.
But nowhere did she see Sally.
Someone bumped into her and mumbled a quick apology, making Tessa aware she stood in the path of traffic. She moved to the side, still searching, but the number of people walking to and fro made it impossible to find anyone. Heavy wagons piled with crates and barrels rolled past. Ship chandlers, biscuit bakers, and sailmaker’s shops lined the street. The briny scent of the sea filled the air along with other smells that had Tessa wrinkling her nose. In addition to shipbuilders, many factories were nearby, including tar, candle, and chemical. Their smoke mingled with the fog rolling off the Thames, making each breath a challenge.
The area appeared even more crowded with buildings and people since her last visit here some time ago when she and Aunt Betty had come to watch one of the great iron steamships launch. Why would Sally come to the dock? The rough-looking seamen passing by only made her more determined to find the girl before she encountered trouble. Surely she’d listen to reason once Tessa explained how ridiculous it was to believe tales of easy jobs to earn money.
She moved forward slowly, looking both ways for Sally. The masts of ships and rigging crowded the sky, the ships moored alongside steamships. Men moved goods back and forth along the planks connecting the ships to the dock. The scene looked like complete chaos to her, making it difficult to believe anyone knew what they were doing or where they were going.
A well-dressed man in a black suit and top hat stepped onto the dock from a ship. He appeared out of place among the rough workers. Then he turned toward her, providing a good look at his face.
She gasped, shivers casting over her entire body. Marcus. The gentleman from the alleyway. His chiseled features were even more arresting in the light of day. With relief, she noted he looked well, moving with ease from what she could tell. The scowl on his face indicated he was displeased with something. Or someone.
A gray bonnet blocked her view of him. Tessa realized the simple bonnet with its red ribbon was the one for which she’d been searching.
Sally walked directly toward Marcus. Surely he wasn’t the reason the girl had come here. Yet there was no denying she was moving toward him.
Outrage stole through Tessa. Was he the one luring away Sally from their shop by telling lies? Why else would the two have reason to meet? She nearly wished she hadn’t bothered to help him a month ago.
As she stepped forward to confront the pair, a man driving a loaded cart blocked her path.
“Excuse me, miss.” The driver tipped his hat to her. “Would ye so kindly tell me where Stout Lane might be?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know this area.” She shook her head, hoping the man would be on his way so she could continue on hers.
“Do ye know who might? I can’t find it fer the life of me.”
“I don’t know that either. Sorry.” Impatient, she smiled tightly as the man gave another tip of his hat and moved his horse and cart.
Her gaze went directly to Marcus, but Sally was nowhere to be seen. Her heart caught in her throat. Was she too late?
“That was a waste of time,” Marcus told Samuel, biting back anger as he surveyed the dock, trying to decide what to do next.
“The captain didn’t seem to appreciate you visiting him unannounced again.”
Captain Thomas was an older man, gruff, built like a bull with a full gray beard. His flat, dark eyes had been less than friendly when Marcus had boarded the ship and even less welcoming once Marcus had told him he wanted to inspect the cargo. Apparently, few earls bothered to check on their ships.
“You’d think it was his damned ship.” The captain had made it clear that Marcus was welcome to inspect the ship by appointment only. He insisted Marcus would not only be in the way but would put them behind schedule.
Marcus nearly demanded to look over the ship, but the crew who gathered around the captain outnumbered him and Samuel, Marcus had no choice but to agree. He’d done his best to make light of his request, not wanting the man to become suspicious and hide whatever was in the hold. The question was, did Captain Thomas have something to hide? Or was he merely displeased at being questioned?
“Now what, my lord?” Samuel asked.
“Excellent question.” No point would be served in making an appointment for a closer inspection of the ship. That would only give them time to remove any cargo that wasn’t supposed to be on board.
Marcus perused the area, hoping an idea would come to him, only to have his gaze catch on someone walking directly toward him. He stilled, unable to believe his eyes.
The angel.
No. It couldn’t be. Yet somehow it was. His heartbeat sped, thundering in his ears, muffling the sounds around him.
“My lord?” Samuel’s voice did not pull Marcus’s attention away from her approach.
She was taller than he’d realized, nearly reaching his chin. And her eyes were an even more vivid green in the light of day. Her creamy skin, her heart-shaped face, each more attractive than he’d remembered. He drank it all in as she marched toward him.
“What have you done with her?” she demanded.
Marcus could only blink at her odd question. Was that anger in her eyes?
She raised one honey-colored brow, which was a shade darker than her hair. “Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself?”
“Who?” was all he could manage. He was so certain it had been only his imagination that made him believe she resembled the angel. That it had been his gratitude for her assistance that had made him feel so…taken by her. But no. Meeting her again changed nothing. His physical reaction to her stunned him and certainly didn’t help him understand of what she was speaking.
Samuel gasped. “Is this the angel?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.
Marcus nearly groaned. Already the man had been relentless about Marcus finding her. Heaven knew what meeting her would put into his mind.
The woman frowned as she glanced at Samuel. But the distraction was only temporary. Her gaze focused once again on Marcus. “Where is she?”
“She looks just as I imagined,” Samuel murmured.
Marcus ignored him. “Who are you looking for?”
“Sally.” She looked about as though expecting to find her standing behind them.
“Perhaps we should move to a safer location, my lord,” Samuel suggested.
Marcus turned to see the captain and some of his crew had come to stand along the rail of the ship, glaring at them. “Indeed we should.”
Marcus took her elbow, turned her away from his ship, and started walking. He still didn’t know who she was looking for, but he wanted distance between them and the ship’s men. He let the anger he felt at being forced from his own ship build. Anything to suppress the uncomfortable feelings the woman at his side caused.
What had she said her name was? He could only think of her as the angel, though he vaguely remembered her correcting him when he’d called her Lady Jordan.
“Where are we going?” she demanded.
“Away from the ship.” Marcus was grateful for the need to move, for it gave him time to collect his thoughts. What were the odds that he’d come across her again like this?
“I told you it was meant to be,” Samuel whispered in his ear.
Marcus tightened his hold on the woman even while his mind rebelled at Samuel’s words. He refused to believe fate was bothering to take an interest in his life.
“You still haven’t told me where Sally is,” she said as she ground to a halt and tugged her elbow from his grasp.
“I don’t know who Sally is, nor do I know where she is.”
“I saw her walking directly toward you only a few moments ago.” Her gaze cast past him, and her eyes went wide. “Oh. There she is.”
Marcus turned to look only to have her place a gloved hand on his arm.
“Hold,” sh
e directed. “I don’t want her to see me. Not yet.”
He remained where he was, facing her. “Why are you so interested in this person?”
She looked up at him, those wide green eyes full of worry. “Sally works at our shop. I fear the man she is speaking with is attempting to lure her away by promising higher wages.”
“What shop?”
“Madame Daphne, Seamstress, a shop my aunt and I run. We have several young girls apprenticed with us.”
“Including Sally,” he surmised. At her nod, he continued, “And Madame Daphne is your aunt?”
“There is no Madame Daphne,” she replied, looking past his arm to watch Sally.
He frowned, trying to understand even as he reminded himself none of the details mattered. He intended to express his thanks and escort her to safety. Then surely his conscious would be appeased, and he could bid her goodbye. “I am Lord Warenton, and I would like to thank you once more for aiding me.”
“Of course. Miss Tessa Maycroft at your service.” She curtsied, but her attention quickly returned to her young charge. “If only I knew what they were saying.”
Marcus glanced at Samuel, who nodded and backed closer to the man and girl. With luck, his footman might hear some of their conversation.
“Why, thank you,” she said, acting quite surprised at the gesture. Her focus shifted to Marcus, studying his body, which heated with her perusal. “I’m pleased to see you recovered so well.”
“Thanks to you.” He told himself it was only gratitude that surged through him.
She smiled up at him, making him catch his breath. With a peek around him once more, she asked, “What brings you to the dock?”
“A business matter.” He knew his response was terse, but he needed to escape from her. From the madness that threatened to ruin his carefully laid plans. Plans that didn’t involve her.
Though the story of how his grandparents had met was quite touching, it was only a story. Nothing more. Despite what Samuel believed, history was not repeating itself.
Regency Wolfe: A de Wolfe Pack Connected World collection of Victorian and Regency Tales Page 8
