Page 15 of A Gentleman’s Offer

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Meg was puzzling over all she’d heard and seen as she stood in Covent Garden. Sir Dominic hadn’t said so explicitly, but she assumed that the people she’d just met were a part of, or in charge of, his father’s charitable foundation. Perhaps, if they could be persuaded to trust a little, some of those lost children would climb wearily into the cart or walk at its side and accompany the women home tonight, wherever home was, to find a safe, warm bed to sleep in, on top of the hot meal they’d already had. Maybe even a chance at a whole new beginning, if they wanted it. That was a good thought.

He was plainly more involved than he had claimed to be in the project. These people all knew him well, and had for many years. His valet, it seemed, was someone who’d been saved from the streets long since and given a new direction in life. Gentlemen’s gentlemen were well paid and highly esteemed, among the very highest rank of servant, so this was no small thing. That much she could decipher. The rest of it – Annie, and the regiment, and other people concerned somehow – she could not make head nor tail of at all. Except that there was a closeness there, a warmth in his voice, and in Angela’s when she spoke to him. She didn’t know Sir Dominic at all, she realised afresh. He was her sister’s betrothed – for now – he’d agreed reluctantly to help her, he’d almost kissed her, they flirted and teased each other… and that was all. But the intimacy they sometimes shared could only be fleeting and illusory. It would be better not to forget that, and not to imagine that there was anything more substantial or meaningful between them.

‘We need to set about this, and be done with it,’ he said now. They had moved away from the little group of people, closer to their destination. ‘It’s not too late for you to step aside, Miss Nightingale. You can wait in the square, with Angela and Aaron. Help Susan give hot pies and warm chocolate to the urchins. I hope that doesn’t sound patronising – I assure you, I don’t mean it so. You’ll be quite safe with my friends. Much safer than you’ll be inside that cursed house, you must realise. I’m sure I won’t be long, but it would ease my mind a great deal if you would stay outside, out of harm’s way, and wait for me.’

‘I know it would,’ she answered, moved by his concern for her once more, but still resolute. ‘And I’m excessively grateful for all that you’ve done, and all you’re prepared to do. I know you think me headstrong and perverse, and perhaps I am. But Maria’s my sister. I have to come with you, even if it’s one chance in a thousand that she’s in there. You must see that. I owe her that much and more.’

He sighed. ‘Very well. No sense in delaying, then. If anything does go wrong, Meg, get out by any means you can, please don’t wait for me, and run to Angela. You know she’ll be close by, and you can trust her with your life – she and Aaron will make sure no one pursues you or hurts you. Promise me you’ll do that, at least.’

‘I swear I will.’

They walked further along the short street and stopped before the end house. ‘Wait here, Jack,’ he said. ‘Keep your eyes open for trouble. We shouldn’t be long, all being well, and I have my pistols.’

‘So do I,’ said Fishwick, turning back and melting into the shadows. His voice was a grim whisper. ‘Let’s hope we neither of us need them.’

The door was still guarded, and as they approached it the man who’d been watching their approach stood and barred their way with his thick body. He was tall and massively built, and his face was heavily scarred, especially about the eyes, and his nose bent from some previous blow. A boxer, Meg thought. His cloudy gaze ran over them both in a hard, lewd way that made her profoundly uncomfortable. ‘This is no molly-house,’ he warned them, turning his head and spitting, not quite in their direction but not so very far away either. ‘You’d be better off round the corner, with your own kind. I’m sure you know the way well enough, my fine backgammon fellows.’

Meg didn’t know what a molly-house was, nor a backgammon fellow, though perhaps she could guess, but apparently Sir Dominic did. ‘You misunderstand our intentions,’ he said coldly. ‘We do not seek merely a room for our own use, but congenial company too. My friend and I are looking for a young woman.’ As he spoke, coins clinked heavily and invitingly in his palm, and the man took them and pocketed them with astonishing swiftness.

‘Treat yourself, sir,’ the man said expansively, stepping aside and grinning broadly as he pushed the door open with a loud creak. ‘Beg pardon for the misunderstanding. Young women is what we has aplenty, and fine ones, too. Have two. Or three. Perhaps it’s a-watching of the young shaver setting to it with a bouncing wench that tickles your fancy, in which case, fill your boots, as they say – all tastes, within reason and nature, is catered to here, my lord, as you will soon discover.’

‘How kind,’ said Sir Dominic in arctic tones. He couldn’t be shocked, Meg knew – he must surely be a man of some experience, and this was, after all, a brothel rather than a young ladies’ seminary. But she could tell that he was horrified, no doubt on her behalf. She tried, and failed, to suppress a giggle. He heard it and swore under his breath, grasping her arm and urging her over the threshold.

‘He’ll just think you’re over-eager,’ she murmured provocatively.

There was, perhaps fortunately, no time for him to respond to her teasing. The door opened into a wood-panelled hall with several more closed doors leading out of it, and they had scarcely had chance to look about them when a woman approached them, confident and smiling. Perhaps this was Sally. She was lavishly dressed in bright silks and skilfully painted in a fair approximation of youth, but her eyes were old and infinitely wary. Once again Meg was uncomfortably aware of swift, assessing scrutiny. But clearly the light was better here, or the observer more astute, because the woman said shrewdly, ‘I’m happy to see you, sir – my lord? – but I must tell you, this isn’t the sort of house where it’s customary to bring your own female company, however… charmingly unconventional. Normally, we provide the charming company, and I assure you, it’s all you could wish for. Perhaps you will come in, and see if you care to make some new friends? If Sweet Polly Oliver, dressed in her brother’s clothes, is the tune you like, as I see it is, that too can be arranged here. But if your tastes are a trifle more unusual, of course – both of you – that can also be catered for, up to a point.’

‘I’m happy to pay,’ Sir Dominic replied, and Meg was aware, though his voice was casual and his manner languid, of an underlying tension in his tall body as he stood protectively close to her. ‘But it’s a specific young woman I’m seeking, one I have reason to believe is staying here, and I’d just like to speak to her for a few moments, nothing more.’

‘That,’ said the woman, becoming markedly less genteel, ‘is what many of them say. You’re the second one this week, in fact. And those that say such things are generally looking for trouble.’

‘I’m not, I assure you. Trouble is the last thing I desire. I’m just looking for Jenny Wood.’

‘And what do the likes of you know of Jenny Wood?’ Her tone sharpened further, and her stance was undeniably belligerent now. It was no wonder, really, that she was so suspicious, after the other man had tried to force his way in to see Jenny and been rebuffed. They should have realised this might happen. And this was her house, and she was in control. Some primitive instinct for danger made Meg suddenly conscious of other eyes watching them too, other ears listening, from the rooms deeper inside the house, with no friendly intention.

Sir Dominic said coolly, ‘I know little of her, in the sense that I’ve never met her. My name wouldn’t convey anything to her, either, since I am a stranger to the young lady. But I do know that she was hounded out of her former post by a fellow servant who would not cease importuning her, and I know too that he saw her here, a few nights ago, and attempted to gain entrance but was refused. I have nothing to do with him, or with her former employer. I just want to assure myself that she is well, and ask her a question or two about a mutual acquaintance of ours. And I’ll compensate her for her time, naturally, and you for yours.’

He raised his voice a little, and Meg realised that he too knew that others were observing them, judging them. ‘I have arranged for Miss Wood’s pursuer to have a little private chat with a friend of mine – a man from the West Indies by the name of Aaron, with whom you may be familiar, at least by sight. If you do know him, you’ll be aware he’s not one to be trifled with. He doesn’t care for bullies, Aaron, especially not bullies who play their tricks on defenceless women, and I have a notion he’ll be quite effective in persuading this fellow to go away and never trouble the young woman, or perhaps any young woman, any more.’

‘You know Aaron?’ Sally was incredulous.

‘Very well indeed. And Angela – Mother Jones, if you recognise her by that name – even better. She’ll vouch for me. She vouches for you, up to a point – she says this is a decent house, where women aren’t kept against their will. So I’m hoping you’ll allow me to speak to Jenny, if she’s still here and will grant me a few minutes of her time.’

‘I’m here all right.’ A girl was standing on the stairs, her hand on the banister, looking down at them. She was tall and dark, with strong, handsome features and untrusting eyes. ‘But who are you, and what the hell do you want with me?’