Wicked Intentions

Page 3

The contrast was fascinating—and arousing.
“You’re a Puritan?” he asked.
Her beautiful mouth compressed. “No.”
“Ah.” He noted she did not say she was Church of England either. She probably belonged to one of the many obscure nonconformist sects, but then he was interested in her religious beliefs only as they impacted his own mission.
She took a sip of tea. “How do you know my name?”
He shrugged. “Mrs. Dews and her brother are well-known for their good deeds.”
“Really?” Her tone was dry. “I was not aware we were so famous beyond the boundaries of St. Giles.”
She might look demure, but there were teeth behind the prim expression. And she was quite right—he would never have heard of her had he not spent the last month stalking the shadows of St. Giles. Stalking fruitlessly, which was why he’d followed her home and sat before this miserable fire now.
“How did you get in?” she asked.
“I believe the back door was unlocked.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Her brown eyes met his over her teacup. They were an odd light color, almost golden. “Why are you here, Lord Caire?”
“I wish to hire you, Mrs. Dews,” he said softly.
She stiffened and set her teacup down on the tray. “No.”
“You haven’t heard the task for which I wish to hire you.”
“It’s past midnight, my lord, and I’m not inclined to games even during the day. Please leave or I shall be forced to call my brother.”
He didn’t move. “Not a husband?”
“I’m widowed, as I’m sure you already know.” She turned to look into the fire, presenting a dismissive profile to him.
He stretched his legs in what room there was, his boots nearly in the fire. “You’re quite correct—I do know. I also know that you and your brother have not paid the rent on this property in nearly two months.”
She said nothing, merely sipping her tea.
“I’ll pay handsomely for your time,” he murmured.
She looked at him finally, and he saw a golden flame in those pale brown eyes. “You think all women can be bought?”
He rubbed his thumb across his chin, considering the question. “Yes, I do, though perhaps not strictly by money. And I do not limit it to women—all men can be bought in one form or another as well. The only trouble is in finding the applicable currency.”
She simply stared at him with those odd eyes.
He dropped his hand, resting it on his knee. “You, for instance, Mrs. Dews. I would’ve thought your currency would be money for your foundling home, but perhaps I’m mistaken. Perhaps I’ve been fooled by your plain exterior, your reputation as a prim widow. Perhaps you would be better persuaded by influence or knowledge or even the pleasures of the flesh.”
“You still haven’t said what you want me for.”
Though she hadn’t moved, hadn’t changed expression at all, her voice had a rough edge. He caught it only because he had years of experience at the chase. His nostrils flared involuntarily, as if the hunter within was trying to scent her. Which of his list had interested her?
“A guide.” His eyelids drooped as he pretended to examine his fingernails. “Merely that.” He watched her from under his brows and saw when that lush mouth pursed.
“A guide to what?”
“St. Giles.”
“Why do you need a guide?”
Ah, this was where it got tricky. “I’m searching for… a certain person in St. Giles. I would like to interview some of the inhabitants, but I find my search confounded by my ignorance of the area and the people and by their reluctance to talk to me. Hence, a guide.”
Her eyes had narrowed as she listened, her fingers tapping against the teacup. “Whom do you search for?”
He shook his head slowly. “Not unless you agree to be my guide.”
“And that is all you want? A guide? Nothing else?”
He nodded, watching her.
She turned to look into the fire as if consulting it. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the snap of a piece of coal falling. He waited patiently, caressing the silver head of his cane.
Then she faced him fully. “You’re right. Your money does not tempt me. It’s a stopgap measure that would only delay our eventual eviction.”
He cocked his head, watching as she carefully licked those lush lips, preparing her argument, no doubt. He felt the beat of the pulse beneath his skin, his body’s response to her feminine vitality. “What do you want, then, Mrs. Dews?”
She met his gaze levelly, almost in challenge. “I want you to introduce me to the wealthy and titled people of London. I want you to help me find a new patron for our foundling home.”
Lazarus kept his mouth firmly straight, but he felt a surge of triumph as the prim widow ran headlong into his talons.
“Done.”
Chapter Two
Now, King Lockedheart was a very proud man. For though he had been born to a small and insignificant kingdom, he had, through courage, guile, and daring, defeated the surrounding larger countries until he controlled a vast and powerful kingdom. To the north were mountains rich in minerals and sparkling gems. To the east, fields of golden grains and fat cattle. To the south lay tall hardwood forests. And to the west was an ocean overflowing with silver fish. A man could start from the capital city and walk a month in any direction and not leave the lands belonging to King Lockedheart….
—from King Lockedheart
Temperance caught her breath, feeling suddenly as if the jaws of a trap had slammed shut around her. She didn’t let her gaze waver, however. Lord Caire struck her as something of a predator, and it wouldn’t do to show fear in his presence. Instead, she leaned forward and gently poured herself another dish of tea. She noted with some pride that her hands were steady.
When she’d taken a sip, she looked at him, this exotic creature lounging in her drab little sitting room, and squared her shoulders. “Let us discuss the particulars of our arrangement, my lord.”
His wide, sensuous lips quirked as if he found her amusing. “Such as, Mrs. Dews?”
She swallowed. Naturally, she’d never made a pact such as this in her life, but she did bargain regularly with the butcher and the fishmonger and the various tradespeople one dealt with when running a foundling home. And she fancied she was not such a bad bargainer.
Temperance set down her teacup. “I’ll need money for living expenses.”
“Living expenses?” His black eyebrows arched up his forehead.
She felt a bit brash asking for money when they’d already settled on his introducing her to potential patrons as his part of the bargain. But the truth was that the home needed the money. Desperately.
“Yes,” she said, lifting her chin. “As you yourself noted, our rent is in arrears. In addition, the children haven’t had a proper meal in days. I need money to buy some beef, vegetables, bread, tea, and milk. Not to mention both Joseph Tinbox and Joseph Smith need new shoes—”
“Joseph Tinbox?”
“And most of the younger Marys need new chemises,” Temperance finished in a defiant rush.
For a moment, Lord Caire merely watched her with those mysterious sapphire eyes. Then he stirred. “Exactly how many children do you house in this home?”
“Seven and twenty,” Temperance said promptly, then remembered tonight’s work. “I beg your pardon. Eight and twenty with the addition of Mary Hope—the babe I brought home tonight. We also have two infants who are under the care of wet nurses at the moment outside the home. When they are weaned, they’ll come to live here as well. And, of course, I live here with my brother, Winter, and our maidservant, Nell Jones.”
“Only three adults for so many children?”
“Yes.” Temperance leaned forward in her eagerness. “You see why we need a patron? If we had proper funding, we could hire another nursemaid or two and perhaps a cook and a manservant. We could serve meat at both luncheon and dinner, and all the boys could wear decent shoes. We could pay a good apprenticeship fee and outfit each child in new clothes and shoes when they leave the home. They’d be so much better prepared to face the world.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I can well afford to maintain your home if you wish to renegotiate my part of this bargain.”
Temperance pursed her lips. She didn’t know this man. How could she be certain that he’d take the position of patron responsibly? Or that he wouldn’t abandon them after only a month or two?
And, of course, there was an even more important consideration. “The home’s patron must be respectable.”
“Ah. I see.” She expected him to be insulted, but he merely gave her an ironic half smile. “Very well. I’ll stand you the monies needed to pay your home’s rent as well as enough for the various expenses the children have. In return, however, I will expect you to be ready to lead me into St. Giles tomorrow night.”
So soon? “Of course,” Temperance replied.
“And,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “I will expect you to serve me until such time as I no longer have need of your services.”
Temperance blinked, feeling wary. Surely it was the height of foolishness to bind herself to a stranger for an indefinite length of time? “How long do you think your search will take?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you must have an end date in mind? If you don’t find what you want, say, within a month, you’ll give up your search?”
He simply looked at her, a small smile flickering at the corner of his mouth, and it crashed down on her—again—that she didn’t know this man. She knew nothing about him, in fact, beyond Nell’s ominous warning about him. For a moment, Temperance felt fear creep on little spider feet up her spine.
She straightened. They’d made a bargain, and she’d not dishonor herself by reneging on it. The home and all the children in it depended on her.
“Very well,” she said slowly. “I will help you for an indefinite time. But I will need forewarning when you wish to go into St. Giles. I have duties within the home and will have to find someone to take my place.”
“I mainly search at night,” Lord Caire drawled. “If you require a replacement for your work at the home, I will fund that as well.”
“That’s very generous of you,” she murmured, “but if we are to go out at night, then the children should already be abed. Hopefully, I will not be needed.”
“Good.”
“How soon will you be able to take me to meet potential patrons for the home?” She would somehow have to find a new dress and shoes at the very minimum. Her usual black stuff workday clothes wouldn’t do for meeting the wealthy of society.
He shrugged. “A fortnight? Perhaps more. I may need to go begging for invitations to the more sedate parties.”
“Very well.” A fortnight was not very much time, but then again, the home needed immediate help. She couldn’t afford to wait longer.
He nodded. “Then I believe our negotiations are concluded.”
“Not quite,” she said.
He halted in the act of raising his hat to his head. “Indeed, Mrs. Dews? You yourself have said I’ve been generous. What more do you need?”
The tiny smile was gone from his mouth, and he was looking rather intimidating, but Temperance swallowed and lifted her chin. “Information.”
He merely cocked an eyebrow.
“What is the name of the person you are looking for?”
“I don’t know.”
She frowned. “Do you know what they look like or the areas where they habitually frequent?”
“No.”
“Is this person a man or a woman?”