Page 21 of The King of Whitechapel (Victorian Outcasts #7)

twenty-one

A WEIGHT LIFTED from Christopher’s chest when Elizabeth said she would stay.

If she’d said no, he would have found another way to keep her safe. Although he hadn’t started with the right foot in his job to protect her.

The bruise on her forehead reminded him of the night she’d come to his bedroom and tripped on the ottoman. If that bruise was the beginning of his second chance with her, then he hoped it was a good omen.

The months of hardship had taken their toll on her. She was thin and pale with dark circles around her eyes, but mostly she showed the signs of a defeated, crushed soul. For the daughter of an earl, who had grown up sheltered and pampered, she’d done well, fending for herself. But her time alone had been a struggle if her gaunt cheeks were any indication.

Finn smiled after Elizabeth said she wanted to stay, Darko bared his teeth, and Jane narrowed her eyes. Not the warm welcome he’d hoped for.

“But I want to work,” Elizabeth said. “The days when I just read and did embroidery are well behind me.”

“I’ve never had those,” Jane said, folding her arms over her chest.

“You didn’t miss much.”

Jane didn’t soften. “I’m sure embroidery is better than burning your hands with boiling water and lye soap while doing laundry for hours on end.”

Elizabeth showed her hands; cuts and calluses covered them. “I understand what you mean. My hands are red and swollen from the laundry. I hate it.”

Jane was about to say something else, but Christopher cut her off before another ‘I suffered more than you did’ contest would start.

“Let’s finish the tour. Follow me.” He crossed the yard, greeting other men entering the palace and staring at her with curiosity. He held the door to his workroom on the ground floor open for her. “Madam.”

She flashed a little smile that seemed forced as if she hadn’t smiled in a while, and now she didn’t know how to do it.

“I’ve learnt many things in the past months, not only about myself,” she said. “I can do the housework, other chores, and anything you need. I can help in the kitchen as well. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I’m sure of that, but we’re well organised with the housework. Everyone has their duty, and Jane makes sure people follow the rules. What I need help with is accounting.” He touched the cover of a large register. “I have help, but I need more. I need someone I can trust.”

“Accounting?” Her face brightened as if he gave her a present. “I’d love to do accounting for you, but you told me your activities are illegal.”

“The illegal aspect doesn’t matter when it comes to keeping track of our expenses. Not everyone here can do maths. Some of my men can’t even read, and I know how much you love numbers.”

Her first genuine smile stretched her lips. “Numbers. Of course. I’ll be happy to help.” She flipped through the pages of the register. “Goodness. You’re busy. Tobacco, whisky, steel … I had no idea.”

“Taxes and bad decisions from the government are crushing small traders. Many of the men, who work for me, lost everything, lost their honest work because of bankruptcy, and to feed their families, they joined me. I have principles, though.” He wanted her to understand he wasn’t a complete thug. He wasn’t Robin Hood but not a ruthless gangster either. “We don’t traffic weapons or people.”

“I’m happy to hear that because your numbers are impressive.” She ran a finger down a long column of numbers. “I’d like to calculate the percentage of taxes you’re evading just out of curiosity.”

He laughed. “After you’re fully recovered. You need rest.”

She handed him the hefty volume.

He shoved the register aside and propped himself on the edge of the overcrowded desk. “Who spread the rumour about us?”

She walked around the room, and he couldn’t help but notice that her elegance hadn’t changed. She had the same proud bearing as before, walking as if she were dancing.

“I’ve been thinking about that for months. It wasn’t my mother. She wasn’t happy to see us together, but she would never risk my family’s reputation or ruin my relationship with a duke.”

Speaking of which. “I was surprised to know you and Pearce were close. Do you love him?” The question shot out of his mouth almost without him wanting to, but he had to ask that. He’d been wondering about her feelings for Pearce for a while.

She paused, a hand on the typewriter. “Pearce? I never did.” There was regret in her voice, though.

“You were engaged to be married to him. Your mother told me.”

“No, I wasn’t engaged to him.” She rubbed her forehead. “My mother hoped for an engagement, and there were rumours about it. Pearce proposed a courtship, which would have led to an engagement, possibly. I wasn’t convinced, but you don’t refuse a duke. I agreed to the courtship only to take time. Then everything changed. He bought me a ridiculously expensive diamond engagement ring and started to talk about me becoming his duchess. All of a sudden everyone was talking about my imminent wedding, and I didn’t know what to think.”

“Hmm.” He tried to hide his relief. She wasn’t in love with his brother. “Do you have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of, but I don’t care at this point. I don’t care about who spread the rumour. I don’t care about what they want to achieve. They won.”

“They ruined your life.”

“I miss my old life. I can’t deny that, but learning what my parents are capable of made me wonder if staying with them would have been right. They didn’t let me talk. They didn’t give me the opportunity to speak. They decided I was guilty and cast me out of my house with one carpetbag and five pounds. What kind of parents do that?” Her voice cracked, and her shoulders quivered. “I could have died, been attacked, or killed, and they didn’t care.”

He strode to her and hugged her, wishing he could protect her from the heartbreak. She leant against him, and he closed his eyes for a moment, aware that, this time, no one would come to take her away from him. If anything, the only good thing about her situation was that she was free to do as she pleased. Even stay with him if she wished so. That didn’t erase the fact he was a criminal.

He caressed the top of her head gently while she shivered. “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” he said, inhaling her sweet scent.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to cry. I’ve shed my tears. Six months’ worth of them. My family and Pearce don’t deserve them.”

“I agree.” He was about to let her go, but she rested her head on his chest, and he held her more tightly.

The more he caressed her head and back, the more she slackened in his arms. The thoughts of what could have happened to her while she’d lived on the streets would torment him forever. If he’d known about her situation, he would have helped her.

She disentangled herself from him and wiped her eyes quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He stroked her cheek, catching a precious tear. “Don’t be. Look around. Everyone here is unwanted for one reason or another. Finn was abandoned by his mother and left in a workhouse. Jane worked as a maid in a house until the lady kicked her out because she was convinced that Jane was trying to seduce her husband. All rubbish. It was the other way around. But after that, Jane couldn’t find any jobs until she met me.”

“I’ve heard horrible stories of maids and governesses being attacked by their employers. It’s awful.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “What angers me the most is being accused of something I didn’t do. I don’t care about the broken engagement, but I was punished for a crime I didn’t commit, and no one believed me. And I …” She breathed hard, her cheeks reddening. “It happened to you as well.”

“Yes. I know exactly how you feel. Take deep breaths.”

She did as told, leaning against him again. She had to be exhausted.

“I’ll show you to your room,” he said.

He led her upstairs while thinking about which room was the best for her. He didn’t want her close to the weaponry, nor close to the room where his men often gathered to drink. They wouldn’t let her sleep with their loud voices, and sometimes they brought girls in.

The room in the corner of the first floor was draughty, and the sun didn’t warm it until the afternoon, which left the room next to his. Warm, decently big, and quiet. And accidentally close to him. The furniture was sparse, merely a bed, a table, and a wardrobe. But there was a nice cast-iron stove, and the floor was clean.

“Here we are.” He pushed the door open. “We’ll fetch your belongings from the room you rented and bring them here. This is all for you.”

She stepped inside tentatively, gazing around.

“If you don’t like it, I can find something else,” he said, already thinking about another room.

“No, it’s perfect. In the past months, I slept in a room that was the size of a closet, sharing it with a family of rats. This is luxurious.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Wait to thank me.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You realise what kind of life we lead here, don’t you?”

She glanced at the gun at his side.

“I’m not going to lie,” he said. “It’s a dangerous life. If you live here, you’ll deal with all sorts of criminals. I don’t want you to accept my help, only out of desperation. If you don’t feel comfortable here, I’ll find another accommodation for you, a safer one.”

She tucked a curl behind her ear. “I trust you, Christopher. You’d never hurt me. We faced death together, and I can’t think of a better person to have shared that experience with than you. I’m sure you’ll keep me safe.”

A shock of stillness went through him. He hadn’t realised how important her trust was until she paid him the most important compliment he’d ever received. Words failed him.

She tilted her head. “You look shocked. Perhaps you didn’t expect me to agree to stay here. I can leave.”

Her words shook him out of his stupor.

“Bloody hell, no. Stay. Please. I want you to stay here.”

She sat on the edge of the bed as if tired. He sat next to her tentatively.

“I’m happy I found you,” he said.

“So am I.” She rested her head on his shoulder, and he felt as if he were the king of Britain. “Don’t leave me again.”

Ouch. That hurt. Because the way they’d been separated had been a wound that had never healed properly. Even now, it hurt when the weather changed.

He laced his fingers through hers. “I’ve never wanted to.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in that way. It came out wrong.”

But it showed how she felt, and he felt the same.

She hid a yawn behind her hand. “I think I need to sleep. I make no sense.”

No, she made a lot of sense.

He brought her hand up and kissed it with reverence. “I have no intention of leaving you.”

If his criminal life didn’t scare her away from him.