Page 6 of Crimes, Conspiracies, and Courtship (Paddy’s Peelers Mystery #1)

CHAPTER 5

D r. Sampson Brooks was the second lad the O’Briens had taken in. His parents had been sent to debtor’s prison after his father’s bookstore had burned to the ground. The Brooks’s had found out too late that the insurance they had purchased was a fraudulent policy.

“Who did you save and not charge this time?” asked Walters with a shake of his head.

“I always get paid, but it’s often not in coin,” argued Sam with a grin. He was tall and lean, with brown hair, hazel eyes, and dimples that the ladies seemed to love. “There was an accident in Seven Dials. A boarding house caught fire, and the roof caved in, so I spent the day and night tending to injuries. The good Lord must have been watching over them for no one died.”

“You usually help closer to White Chapel or Spitalfields.”

“It happened in the early hours when most everyone was sleeping. After the roof collapsed, the whole building fell like a house of cards. Some escaped, but we had to dig some out.” Sam’s jaw tightened. “I hate the rookeries. It’s hard enough to survive each day without catastrophes like that.”

Walters respected his brother. The O’Briens had seen the boy’s interest in science and medicinal plants and provided him with an education. In return, Sampson gave back to the poor as best he could, acted as a coroner for the Peelers, and patched his brothers up when needed.

Since Dr. Brooks had wealthy clients who paid the bills, he allowed the rookery women to cook, clean, and sew for him in exchange for medical assistance. Men would provide whatever skills they had to offer or a complimentary pint when going to the right taverns.

“You’re a good man, Brother,” said Walters. “And I have some good news and bad news for you.”

“Never a good statement. What’s the good news?”

“By a stroke of luck, I have a lead on three of the men who were involved in the insurance fraud that ruined your father. Of course, they were minor players and have moved on to other things.” Walters shrugged. “However, we will keep an eye on their movements and see what we can find.”

“Harry, you’re a good man to keep working on an old crime which has nothing to do with you.” His tone hardened. “But if we can find any wrongdoing to pin on even one of them, I will attend the hanging—or watch them sail away if transported—and restore peace in my soul. It’s a thorn that has poked me for far too long.”

“You’re my brother, so what concerns you, concerns me. You’ll get retribution, Sam. I just can’t say when.” He finished his ale and stood, snatching a hunk of bread and cheese to take with him. “I’m hoping you won’t be so old you need a cane to get to Newgate.”

* * *

One week later

Mattie sat on the blanket, her sketch pad on her lap, but her hand idle. She smiled at the mute swans, thinking back to Mr. Harry Walters in a wet linen shirt and sodden waistcoat clinging to his body. She gave her maid a sideways glance, her fingers over her lips to hide her smile. The man was so… so… masculine.

Usually, men like that would have sent her running for the nearest corner or plant to hide behind. Not Mr. Walters. After an initial stumble, her shyness had evaporated like dew beneath the hot morning sun. He was unlike any man she’d known—aside from family. Words had spilled from her mouth, and her usual habit of questioning had peeked out.

“Here he comes, my lady,” Franny whispered loudly.

Mattie looked up and her breath caught. He wore another dark coat today, His hat covered his head, and a waistcoat of gray and white stripes could be seen beneath the dark coat. His gray trousers were so… snug. A warmth rushed through her.

“Stop staring and start sketching,” scolded her maid with a chuckle. “You’ll scare him off before you can ask.”

“Do you think he’ll go along with our plan?” Mattie chewed her bottom lip. She prayed he would agree.

“Good afternoon, Lady Matilda,” he said, his shadow covering them as he peered down on her, then nodded toward the maid. “Ma’am.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Mattie willed her stomach to behave and hoped her hand didn’t shake when she held it up to Mr. Walters. “Will you sit with us?”

He hesitated. “I apologize, but I don’t have much time.” He lowered himself onto the blanket. “An unexpected appointment…”

Mattie pushed back the disappointment. “Well, you’re here now. Your jaw is no longer swollen. How is your hand?”

“Healed and in use again.” He reached inside his coat and retrieved her handkerchief, clean and neatly folded. “Once again, I thank you for your assistance. I owe you a favor.”

They spoke of the mother and child and wondered what happened to them. Mattie wondered if the child had any lasting fears of the swans or if he had no idea there had ever been any danger.

“More questions, Lady Matilda. You have an inquisitive mind,” he said.

“After our adventure, I decided to read more about swans in mythology. Do you know the story, The Children of Lir ?” Mattie pressed her lips together, hoping this might keep him with her longer.

“No, I can’t say I have. Tell me,” he said, leaning back on his hands and stretching his muscular legs out.

She pulled her eyes from his lap and took a deep breath. “It’s Celtic folklore about four siblings who are turned into swans. Their father was the sea god, Mir, and his people were known to be magical.”

“Of course. Every good story must have magic, a hero, a victim, and a villain.” He grinned. “Please, go on.”

“Well, after Lir’s wife died, he married her sister. She became jealous of her nieces and nephew, for they loved their father and dead mother more than her.”

“This cannot end well.”

Mattie giggled. “No, trouble is coming.”

“Or there would be no tale to tell.”

“So this wicked woman turned the children into swans. The spell would last nine hundred years.”

“Definitely magic. I wonder if that is why swans are so testy,” he mused.

She burst out laughing. “Perhaps. Anyway, they would spend three hundred years in three different lands, and the spell would not be broken until they heard a bell ring by the new god.”

“And what did the mighty god Mir do when he learned his children had come across fowl play ?” Mr. Walters wiggled his dark eyebrows, sticking out his neck and flapping his arms like great wings. “Too much?”

She held back another laugh and shook her head. “He banished her, declaring her to be a demon of the air. After nine hundred years, monks arrived. The children heard the church bells and appeared in their human form.”

“Seems a satisfying ending. I find the Celtic tales are usually quite dark.”

“Ah, there’s more. Once human again, they aged rapidly and soon died.” She sighed dramatically. “The poor star-crossed family.”

“You would get along well with my sister,” he said, giving her a smile that could cause apoplexy in the sternest of women. She resisted the urge to fan her warm cheeks.

“Why would you say that?”

“She’s an actress, very dramatic, very talented.”

“Perhaps I will meet her someday.” She risked a glance at him from beneath her lashes.

He shook his head. “I doubt it, my lady. As I said before, we are worlds apart. And I must be going.”

She put a hand on his arm as he started to rise. “Yet you feel so close.”

“ Hmph , yet so far away.”

Was his tone almost sad? Or was it her imagination?

He stood this time and held out a hand to help her to her feet. When they were facing each other, he held her gaze. “I will never forget you, Lady Matilda Bancroft. I wish you happiness and good fortune.” He bowed and turned on his heel.

“Wait!” Mattie called, her heart racing. She couldn’t let this man walk out of her life. Not yet. “I will call in that favor.”

He froze, his back straight. Slowly, he turned back to her, his brown eyes questioning.

The words poured from her as if she only had seconds to get her thoughts out. “I am to attend the next Season, and I fear it will be a disaster. I cannot seem to hold a conversation with a man. My shyness is like a boulder on my back, and I cannot shake it off.”

She stopped for a breath.

“You have no trouble conversing with me,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “And I don’t attend balls or musicales or… what are they called… crushes .”

“Exactly. I’d like to meet with you and practice… being with a man.” She was amused to see this rugged man’s neck turn dark red. Then she realized how her statement might have been taken, and it was her turn to pinken. “I mean, practice dialogue, become comfortable speaking with the opposite sex.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea. Your family?—”

“Will never know. It will be our secret. We will decide on a meeting place and bump into each other.” Panic was rising in her throat. “I am terrified of having a proper Season, standing with the wallflowers, not knowing what to say, and my mother glaring at me. Or worse, stuttering when I do try to speak.”

He had opened his mouth to deny her, but his expression changed. He was softening.

“It is too much when we’ve only just become friends, isn’t it?” Mattie blinked back tears, not sure if they were for the horrid Season she would endure or the thought of never seeing this wonderful, handsome man again.

To her surprise, he reached out and took her hand. Her bare hand because she was supposed to be sketching. His touch sizzled her skin; her breath hitched. What would his arms feel like, wrapped around her, holding her close? When her gaze met his, she thought the wings in her belly would lift her into the air. Those chocolate eyes set her adrift, floating, hoping.

“Why do you know it will be such a disaster?” he asked softly.

“Mama was ill last spring, then I sprained my ankle. By the time I entered society, the Season was almost over.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “It was the most dreadful month of my life. Please, say yes.”

“How can I tell you no when tears are shining in those lovely blue eyes?” He squeezed his fingers, then dropped her hand with a sigh. “Though it’s against my better judgment.”

Her heart soared, and she beamed at him. “Thank you, Mr. Walters. Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate this. I’m happy to pay you for your time.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. Oh, no. She had insulted him. “I mean we could consider this a business arrangement if it makes you more comfortable. Please, I meant no offense.”

He blew out a breath. “Of course not. None taken.”

Relieved, Mattie smiled again and blinked away the hot tears. “Do you enjoy art? We could meet at the Royal Academy.”

“I do and we shall. Name the day and time and I will be there.”