Chapter 4
Chapter Four
A s soon as she’d said it, she wished that she hadn’t.
This man didn’t need to know that she was alone. In fact, he didn’t need to know anything about her.
Of course she’d been terrified of the ruffians. But she wasn’t about to admit that to him. Her sheltered upbringing had left her with little knowledge of the world—but she was quickly working out that trusting an unknown man was a bad idea.
As far as who he might be, and what he was doing here, she could only speculate. He was tall and his dark jacket—she couldn’t tell if it were blue or black in this dim light—hugged his broad shoulders in a way that spoke of expensive tailoring. By his speech and manner he was a gentleman, though his hawkish nose—it might have been broken at one time, she thought—and firm chin gave him a slightly pugnacious look.
He was handsome enough that she’d be willing to wager that everyone indulged him and gave him his own way. Some rakehell out slumming, she decided. She’d been raised in the country, but she wasn’t totally naive. She’d heard about the scandalous behavior of wealthy young London gentlemen.
Yet for some reason—despite the fact that she’d already told him he was unwanted!—he continued to stand there, muscular arms folded across his equally muscular chest, looking down at her.
She lifted her chin. “As I have already said, I require no assistance, sir. I am quite capable of finding my own way.”
“Indeed? Then why are you walking straight into Whitechapel?” He raised one eyebrow in a way that added a sort of smolder to his gaze.
“I had… er, temporarily lost my bearings.” The smolder was annoyingly distracting. “I see where I am now. Thank you for your assistance. It is no longer required.”
He didn’t move. “You have no idea where you are, do you? You do not even recognize the name of one of the worst slums in London.”
She felt herself flush. “I most certainly do! I am quite familiar with London. The… the main parts, that is. I have visited here many times with my… my husband.”
“Ah. I see. Your husband .”
She was wearing gloves. There was no way for him to see that she had no wedding band. So why was his tone so skeptical?
“Well. At least allow me to accompany you back to your… Where are you staying?”
“The Spread Eagle,” she lied. That was where she’d been supposed to depart.
“Well, let me take you there now. Please. I cannot in good conscience leave you here.”
He had an air of command, and she actually took several steps in the direction that he indicated.
Then she remembered that she had yet to find her pocketbook. “Sir, before you take it upon yourself to decide what is best for me, allow me to explain why I am here: I have been pick-pocketed. I must find my pocketbook.”
“ Pick-pocketed? ” He stopped. “Do you mean to tell me that you are not only alone in London, but that you are without money?”
Oh no. She’d given away far too much. “Well, I…”
“Madam, no gentleman worthy of the name could possibly abandon a lady in your circumstances. I insist on being of help. I can easily advance you money to hire a post-chaise to take you home to your… er, husband.”
“A post-chaise!” What a figure she would cut if she arrived to take up her position by post! “I—I… that is quite unnecessary, thank you. I was to travel by stagecoach.”
He raised that eyebrow again. “Alone? In a public conveyance? Without even a servant to accompany you? Forgive me, but that is—well, it is extraordinary.”
She felt her face growing hot—and his smoldering look didn’t help. Of course she knew that any gently-bred young lady ought to have a servant with her—for safety as well as propriety. Indeed, she’d traveled that way herself—in her family’s coach—not so very long ago.
But in her present circumstances, she didn’t have the luxury of such niceties. Besides, she was trying to pass unnoticed. If Wilkes had spies in London—as it was rumored that he did—they wouldn’t be expecting her to be humbly dressed, or traveling by stagecoach.
“Please do not worry about me. My travel plans are not your concern.”
“I beg your pardon. It is impossible not to feel concerned.” He bowed slightly. “At least allow me to help you make arrangements for your onward journey, and see you safely aboard. Some coachmen cheat inexperienced travelers, you know, by quoting double the normal fare, and pocketing the difference.”
She opened her mouth to argue. Then she recalled the outrageous fare the coachman had demanded to take her to Lincoln—and closed it again.
Was she one of those “inexperienced travelers?” She had a sinking feeling that she was. “But I… I cannot leave without finding my pocketbook first.”
“ Find it! Find it how ?” He looked incredulous. “You do realize that London is the largest city on the face of the earth? And that the thieves here are experts at concealing and reselling every kind of stolen property?”
“Reselling?” This was useful information. “I see. Then I shall begin my search in the pawnshops.”
“ What ? That is not what I… Madam, there are hundreds of pawnshops! The chance that you will ever see your pocketbook again is… well, I must be frank. There is none.”
“Then I can go to the Watch. Or the Bow Street Runners! They are detectives, after all.”
He looked amused. “Unless your pocketbook contained state secrets or a priceless jewel, the Bow Street Runners will not be interested.”
He couldn’t possibly understand her problems. She was wasting her time.
“Very well. If you will not help me, I must look for it myself.” She turned, her heart pounding, and began walking in the opposite direction.