Chapter 16
Concerning a Rather Telling Encounter at a Chophouse; Followed by a Disconcerting Dash with a Damsel-not-in-Distress…
Ye Olde Fleet Ale and Chophouse was located halfway down a poky side alley off bustling Fleet Street.
It was not the sort of place Xavier usually frequented, but it wasn’t far from some of the antique clock and jewelry stores that he liked to explore in and around nearby Temple Bar, Chancery Lane, and Ludgate Hill.
Like today. The added bonus of the chophouse—aside from the fact it served an excellent steak and kidney pie—was that it was but a short walk from St Paul’s Cathedral.
Xavier didn’t think Mrs. Chase was about to swoon or faint—she didn’t seem the type—but she’d requested a fortifying nip of sherry, so she’d undoubtedly prefer to have it sooner rather than later.
He found a table for them by the fire in the chophouse’s main taproom, and once they had their drinks—Xavier had ordered brandy for himself—he settled onto the ladderback chair beside his far-too-pale nanny.
He watched Mrs. Chase take a sip of her sherry—an excellent amontillado—and she exhaled on a soft sigh. When a flush of pink suffused her lightly freckled cheeks, the tension in Xavier’s own body began to abate.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, catching his gaze. “I’m not sure what you saw or heard outside St Paul’s…” She bit her lip as she toyed with her glass. “My brother is going through a difficult time at present. He’s not himself.”
“And no doubt you are having a testing time too, Mrs. Chase,” said Xavier gently, “considering your father is in prison. I can’t even imagine the terrible stress you’ve been under.”
“You heard that?” she whispered, her expression stricken.
At least Xavier thought that might be the correct word to describe her reaction.
Her countenance was horribly pale again and her eyes had widened.
Her fingers had tightened about her glass too.
“I…” She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the tabletop.
“I’m sure you have questions. Lots of them.
” Then she hoisted up her chin and met his eyes again.
“I’ve kept a rather large, rather awful secret from you, Your Grace.
And the Parasol Academy. And for that I’m truly sorry.
But I want you to know that my father’s situation has not compromised my ability to competently discharge my nannying duties in any way. ”
“Many individuals who are incarcerated in a debtors’ prison rarely end up there because they are bad people, Mrs. Chase. Ill fortune can strike anyone at any time.”
Mrs. Chase gave a small huff. “In this case, my father’s ill fortune has a lot to do with my brother’s poor decision-making.
” And then she disclosed that her brother owned a struggling music hall in Shoreditch—the Oberon—and that even though their father had sacrificed his own business to bail out her brother, there were still creditors dogging the young man.
Her gaze was suspiciously misty as she said, “I don’t know what will become of Freddy.
I don’t want him to go to jail too. I-I can’t support both of them.
Not on my wage, as generous as it is.” Then she pulled out a dainty lawn kerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
“My apologies for turning into a watering pot, Your Grace. I’m not one to burst into tears. ”
“Mrs. Chase,” said Xavier, imbuing his voice with as much compassion as he could muster.
“I want you to know right now that your position is not in danger. You are a good person with a noble and kind heart, and since I employed you, my life and the lives of Harriet, Bartholomew, and Gareth have been so much calmer and brighter. You’re like a burst of sunshine breaking through the clouds.
I’d rather cut off my own arm than lose you. ”
“Oh,” murmured the nanny. “Thank you. No one’s ever said anything quite so… so heartfelt and lovely to me before. Or quite so dramatic.” Her lips quivered with mirth. “Though I’d settle for you losing a little finger or toe. I’m not sure I’m worth a whole arm.”
Xavier laughed. “Yes, I really didn’t think that declaration through, did I?”
“Nevertheless, I know what you meant. The sentiment behind it. I’m grateful for your understanding.
” Mrs. Chase’s lower lip trembled again but not with amusement.
To Xavier’s dismay, her eyes brimmed with tears.
One drop slid down her cheek, and he had the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to reach out and brush it away with his gloved thumb.
He curled his hands into fists on the slightly sticky tabletop to keep from doing so. “You’re very welcome,” he said gruffly. He wished he could take all of Mrs. Chase’s worries away. Seeing her in tears made his chest ache in the most peculiar way.
He had no idea what that meant.
Of course you do, you dolt. It means you’re beginning to care for the woman.
The stiff and starchy and unfeeling Duke of St Lawrence does have a heart after all.
And desire. Bucketloads of desire, considering what you thought about while taking a bath this afternoon. And what you did while thinking it.
Bloody hell. That could only mean…
Xavier picked up his brandy and knocked it back in two swift mouthfuls.
As the fiery liquor burned its way down his throat, he pushed away any and all thoughts of what the logical, analytical part of his brain had been about to tell him.
If he didn’t say it, even in his own head—then it wasn’t true.
Dukes did not feel affection—of any kind—let alone desire for their nannies. Or love. He almost snorted. As if he, the cold and bitter Duke of St Lawrence, knew what love looked like. He was certain he wouldn’t recognize love even if it marched up and planted a punch right between his eyes.
Yes, the very notion of him being in love with a woman, now that was mad. And he wasn’t mad, or insane, or a lunatic.
Xavier Mason was rational and remote. Cool, calm, and collected like an iceberg floating in a frozen arctic sea.
As impervious to emotion and illogical urges as a carved marble statue or even an abandoned tin soldier.
He’d been weak this afternoon and had given in to his carnal cravings. But that was then, and this was now.
He was in control, not falling head-over-heels for Emmeline Chase.
His equilibrium restored and firmly in place, Xavier glanced at his pocket watch. It was getting late and night would be falling soon. The chophouse was already filling up with workers who’d finished for the day and were seeking a drink and a bite of dinner.
Sliding his watch back into the pocket of his frock coat, he said, “Shall we head back to Belgrave Square? But then I’m assuming that’s what you want to do. Technically, it is still your day off.”
Mrs. Chase smiled. “It is, but I’m a trifle tired. I wouldn’t mind going ho—I mean, back to St Lawrence House. I take it your carriage is nearby?”
“Alas, no,” said Xavier as he escorted the nanny outside.
He didn’t take her arm this time, simply walked alongside her with his cane firmly in one hand while he buried his other hand in his coat pocket.
“I wasn’t sure where I would end up or how long I would be, so I caught a hansom cab.
I can hail a cab now if you’d rather not walk too far. ”
Mrs. Chase turned her face to the darkening sky. “The rain is still holding off. I wouldn’t mind walking for a while.” She cast him a smile. “A Parasol nanny needs to make sure she’s fighting fit.”
They continued down Fleet Street in companionable silence for a few more minutes before the nanny ventured, “It’s probably none of my business, Your Grace, but you didn’t mention why you were in the vicinity of St Paul’s Cathedral and Newgate Prison this afternoon.”
“No. I didn’t,” said Xavier. “But I’m happy to share why.
” He explained that he’d also taken the afternoon off from any sort of work and had been indulging his passion for watchhunting.
“I visited Pembridge’s on Ludgate Hill, but alas, there wasn’t another Markwick pocket watch or anything as unique or valuable up for auction. ”
“That’s a shame,” said Mrs. Chase. “Did you come across anything else that caught your eye?”
Apart from you? The words were on the tip of Xavier’s tongue but he pressed his lips together so they wouldn’t spill out.
Devil take him. It didn’t matter how many times he gave himself a stern talking-to, or outright denied his fascination for the nanny, his obsession persisted like a fever in his blood that he couldn’t shake. Aloud he said, “Not really. But I enjoyed the excursion all the same.”
“I’m glad,” she said. A few minutes later, Xavier was surprised when she drew exceedingly close to him.
He was even more astonished when she threaded her arm through his and tugged him down.
“Your Grace, I hope you’ll forgive me for taking liberties,” she murmured close to his ear, “but I believe we’re being followed. ”
“Are you sure?” returned Xavier. Even so, his body tensed and his grip tightened on his cane.
“As sure as I can be.” The nanny’s voice was quiet but edged with determination as she continued.
“There are two of them. One is broad-shouldered and burly. The other is leaner and shorter but no less menacing. I noticed them watching us in the chophouse and they’ve been keeping pace with us.
They might be common cutpurses, but then again, maybe not.
They definitely have an air of ‘up to no good’ about them. ”
Xavier resisted the strong urge to look over his shoulder.
Cold anger began to brew in his blood, even as thunder rumbled in the distance.
It wouldn’t be long before it rained. “There’s only one way to be certain,” he said.
“Up ahead, there’s a small lane—Middle Temple Lane—off to the left that leads down to the Temple Church and the Inns of Court. ”
“I know it,” said Mrs. Chase.