Chapter 4 #2
That last question was the easiest of all of them.
Something about her intrigued him. She was pretty, yes, and she’d caught his attention by kissing him—licking him, nipping at him—in the duke’s library the night before.
Garret was also well aware he had a weakness for anyone in distress.
He was always begging small change from his brothers, as he tended to give all his away to every beggar and street urchin he passed.
Perhaps this was another case of wanting to play the hero.
Except the chit didn’t seem to want a hero.
And, he reminded himself, he was supposed to be playing hero to his family and wooing an heiress.
Liam would have told him that if he had any sense, he’d put Miss Archer out of his mind and focus on learning everything about horses one could in an afternoon so he might impress Lady Callista Stanhope.
But Garret had never been particularly interested in horses. And he could see no reason he couldn’t woo an heiress and save Miss Archer. He didn’t know the chit’s story yet, but it had to be more stimulating than the intricacies of horse pedigrees.
Garret quickened his step and couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his face.
· · ·
“Is ’e gone?” Big John asked when Tamsin pushed through the door to the back room.
“Yes, thank God.” She took the mug of tea and the toast wrapped in paper. Without even pausing, she shoved the toast into her mouth and followed it with a large swig of tea.
“Do ye want to explain why a nob like ’im came ’ere looking for ye?”
“Nnnt mrlly.”
“I warned ye about them risks yer taking.” He strode to the table with the comb and earbob on them. “Ye’d better ’ave these back.”
Tamsin widened her eyes and forced the toast down. “Big John, no!”
“I’ll take me blunt back.”
“No. He doesn’t care about the loot. He was looking for me.”
“And ye led him ’ere.”
“And now I’ll lead him away. I promise. I’ll deal with him tonight, and you’ll never hear from him again.”
“Is that supposed to reassure me? Now I’ll be worried about what ’appens tonight.”
She put a hand on his thick forearm. “Don’t be. I can take care of him. I promise.” She closed his open hand around the comb and earbob. “I need that blunt, Big John. Charlie and Joanna need it.”
Big John pressed his thick lips together. “I don’t like it.”
“Then put it out of your head. You’ll never need to think about Garret Kildare again.”
“And just ’ow did ye know ’is name?”
“I must get back. Do me a favor?”
“Not another.”
“Just send word to Snoozer I will meet him tonight.”
Big John sighed. “Fine.”
“You can take the cost of the tea and toast out of the payment for the handkerchiefs.” She hurried to the back door and pushed it open.
“Not necessary. Yer Mr. Kildare paid for the food.”
The door slammed behind her as Tamsin lifted her skirts and ran back across the road.
She cut around the rear of the coffee shop and peeked around the building to make sure the yard was empty before darting into it.
Standing at the door to the kitchen, she caught her breath and smoothed her hair.
Two years ago, Mr. Kildare had done her a good turn.
He’d done her another today with the tea and toast. She felt stronger already.
But as much as she liked seeing him again, she had to find a way to get rid of him.
He didn’t understand the high rope on which she balanced.
One wrong step and her life would come tumbling down.
She couldn’t afford any distractions, even the distraction of a handsome, wealthy man.
Tamsin understood many in her position would have taken advantage of the kindness of such a man.
But she’d had her own kindness used against her too many times to betray someone else in that manner.
No, she’d give him a lie and send him away. He was the sort of man a woman like her could only dream about. The reality of him was too dangerous.
Would it be so wrong if she kissed him one more time?
Yes, yes it would.
Tamsin pushed the door to the kitchen open a crack and pressed her eye to the sliver of space between door and doorjamb. She couldn’t see anyone in the kitchen. Just then the door handle jumped out of her hands and swung in. Tamsin flailed forward and landed on her knees in front of Mrs. Brown.
Oh no.
“And where have you been, missy?” Mrs. Brown demanded.
“I was—”
But Mrs. Brown didn’t listen. She brought her fist down hard on Tamsin’s head, making Tamsin’s ears ring from the impact. “Don’t lie to me. Mr. Brown has been calling for you to clear the tables. Get in there and get to work!”
“Yes, Mrs. Brown.” Tamsin jumped to her feet and hurried past her mother, who stood at the sink, washing with her one good arm.
Her mother gave her a worried look, but Tamsin smiled back at her.
She burst into the dining room, head down, snatching up a tray and loading it with whatever plates and utensils she could spot.
She grabbed a mug, and the man holding it protested.
“Oi, I’m still drinking that!”
“Oh, beg your pardon, sir!”
She heard giggling and glanced over to see Molly and Peggy sitting at a table near their father.
The girls were whispering to each other and taking their ease.
Tamsin bit her tongue to keep from barking at them to get off their arses and help her.
But that would not endear her to their father, who was currently chatting with an older man Tamsin recognized as a regular customer.
She’d rather Mr. Brown didn’t notice her right now, so she filled her tray until it was almost too heavy to carry and hurried back into the kitchen.
Mrs. Brown was still grousing, so Tamsin unloaded the tray at the sink, gave her mother a commiserating look, and went back out to collect more dirty dishes.
When she returned with the second full tray, Mrs. Brown was nowhere to be seen. “Is she gone?” Tamsin asked her mother.
“For the moment.” Her mother wiped her brow.
“Sit down. I’ll wash for a few moments,” Tamsin offered.
“No. You should sit down. You look like you’re about to blow over.” Her mother put her hand on Tamsin’s cheek. “So pale and so thin.”
Tamsin gripped her mother’s hand before she could start weeping. “Mama, I’m fine. I had tea and toast. I’m just a little tired.”
“Of course you are. You didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
Tamsin glanced about to make certain they were still alone. “It was worth it, though,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I have the coin for Snoozer.”
“All of it?” her mother asked, her face turning suddenly radiant with hope. Tamsin’s belly turned sour as she realized she’d have to dash that hope. She wished that just once she’d do something that kept her mother smiling.
“No, not all of it,” Tamsin said. Her mother’s shine dimmed, and Tamsin felt a little bit of her heart wither at the clear evidence of her mother’s sorrow. “I will get all of it,” Tamsin promised. “But at least they won’t go hungry or be cold.”
“Bless you for that.” Her mother turned away, going back to the dishes in the sink.
She had two tubs of water: one full of soap for washing and one clean for rinsing.
She set a mug in the soapy water and scrubbed at it.
Tamsin moved beside her, taking the mug, dipping it in the clean water, and drying it.
Her mother kept her head down, obviously not wanting Tamsin to see whatever emotions were on her face.
“Just give me a few days,” Tamsin said, thinking of Kildare’s too-keen interest in her. “Once we’re sure no one’s talking about the missing items I pawned, I’ll find another ball to—”
“Don’t tell me. The less I know, the better.” She gripped the side of the sink. “What sort of mother am I, Tamsin? I should be the one protecting you, providing for you. And yet, you’re out risking your neck.”
“I want to risk my neck. Charlie and Joanna are worth it, and you’re not the one who sold them.”
“If I’d been able to provide…” Her voice broke, and she gestured to her missing arm.
“Mama, we can’t change what happened in the past. You did the best you could. Now it’s my turn.”
“I just want to protect you. Every time I see that horrid woman raise a hand to you, I want to hit her over the head with a cast-iron pot.”
Tamsin smiled at her mother’s fierce expression. “I can handle Mrs. Brown. And once I have the blunt we need, we’ll tell the whole lot of them to go to the devil.”
The door to the kitchen opened, bringing the scent of coffee with it. Molly stomped in, her fat brown curls bouncing. Tamsin’s mother went back to washing.
“There are more mugs to be washed,” Molly said, eyeing Tamsin. “My father says you had better stop lounging about and get to work.”
Tamsin set down the mug she was drying and tossed the damp towel over her shoulder. One day she’d tell that girl to get off her arse and pick up the mugs herself. Today was not that day. “Right away, Molly.”
“It’s Miss Brown to you, Tamsin.”
“Miss Brown.” Tamsin made a show of bobbing a curtsy.
Molly narrowed her eyes, certain she was being made fun of but not certain how.
She moved aside as Tamsin took up her tray and swept past her.
Mr. Brown was pouring coffee for a new group of men, and he pointed to an empty table covered with mugs and plates.
Tamsin would have liked to grab his finger and twist it until his eyes watered.
Instead, she nodded and tried to look obedient.
She reached the table and started clearing the dishes.
She’d barely begun when the table suddenly tilted toward her, the dishes sliding in the process.
Tamsin reacted quickly, shifting her hip and steadying the table.
At the same time, she kicked hard under the table and heard a loud cry.
“Oh, George!” She peeked under the table, pretending to be surprised. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”