Chapter 5
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Tamsin swore again and silently asked what she had done to deserve this. Except she already knew. She’d spent the last two years mooning over Garret Kildare, and now she was paying for that hero worship by having to actually contend with Garret Kildare.
Not that she wasn’t impressed by the man.
He’d swept into the yard where she argued with Snoozer like some sort of knight from the stories her mother used to read her.
All he was missing was his white horse and his armor, though she had to admire the way his evening wear molded to his body far better than any armor might do.
Tamsin clenched her hands and forced herself to put aside her silly infatuation with Kildare for a moment and deal with the problem—the very big problem—at hand.
Snoozer had pushed her aside, but now she stomped back toward the men.
She had to intervene before Snoozer tried to use the blade he’d unsheathed from the handle of his walking stick to stab Kildare.
Tried was the operative word, as Tamsin didn’t think Snoozer had a chance in hell of injuring the taller, more muscular Kildare.
The idiot chimney sweep would end up with his own blade in his belly, and then she’d never see Joanna or Charlie again.
“Put that away, Snoozer,” Tamsin ordered, coming to stand between the chimney sweep and the nobleman.
“What the devil—” Kildare practically lifted her off her feet and thrust her behind him. Was her heart not supposed to swell at his chivalry? The silly man truly thought she needed protection. Sweet, deluded man.
“Yer not the Watch,” Snoozer said.
“You’re a clever one, aren’t you?” Kildare quipped. “Now use that astounding intellect to explain to me what you are doing with Miss Archer. It sounded a great deal like extortion.”
Snoozer cut his gaze to Tamsin. “Miss Archer? Is that what he thinks ye are? Some miss?”
Kildare pushed Snoozer’s blade aside. “Get that out of my face before I shove it in yours.”
Snoozer didn’t sheathe the blade back in his walking stick, but he did point the tip away from Kildare. Tamsin found she could breathe again. “Mr. Kildare, thank you for your concern, but I don’t require your assistance.”
Kildare gave her a long look. “Are you dismissing me? You want to continue listening to this man’s attempts at extortion?”
“Now, wait just a moment,” Snoozer said, clearly taking offense.
“Extortion is a serious word. I weren’t extorting her.
She don’t have to pay me anything at all if she don’t want to.
In fact, I’m happy to go me own way and never lay eyes on the chit again.
” Now he did retract the blade. With a tip of his hat, he began to retreat.
“No!” Tamsin hissed as loudly as she dared. Mr. Brown’s snoring in the rooms above was loud enough to cover most of the noise they were making, but if he rolled over and went silent for a few moments at the wrong time, Mrs. Brown would be on her like lice. “Snoozer, don’t leave.”
The chimney sweep pointed to Kildare. “He don’t want me here.”
“I want you here.”
“I’m not feeling particularly welcome.”
“Maybe you’d feel more welcome if I put my foot in your arse,” Kildare said.
“That’s it.” Snoozer started away. Tamsin blew out a frustrated breath and took hold of Kildare’s arm.
Oh my. His bicep was quite hard underneath the wool of the coat.
She had a sudden image of herself stripping off that coat and the shirt underneath and running a hand along the bare flesh of that muscle. She took in a shaky breath.
“Mr. Kildare.” She drew him aside, trying not to inhale the fragrance of bergamot and orange that seemed to cling to him.
She’d been serving tea and coffee all day for the past eighteen months.
She knew her scents, and those were two of her favorites.
Why did the man have to make this so difficult?
“I know you are trying to help, and I lo—I—like you for it.” That had been close.
“But I really do need to speak with Snoozer. If you could give me just a moment.” She looked up at him.
The night was too dark for her to see his eyes clearly, but he gave her a reluctant nod.
“I’ll be right here.”
Of course he would. She’d dreamed of seeing the man for two years, and now when she didn’t want to see him, she couldn’t quite rid herself of him. What was the saying about being careful what you wish for? She’d wished very, very hard, and now she was very, very sorry.
Tamsin held both hands out to Kildare, a stay-put gesture in case he needed further explanation, then ran into the lane to catch up with Snoozer, who, to be fair, was walking quite slowly so she might catch up with him.
“Snoozer,” she said when she reached him.
“Oh, now ye want to speak with me. The extortionist.”
Extortionist was a perfect descriptor for him, and the time would come when she’d throw that and a few other choice words in his face.
Tonight was not that time. She walked beside him, matching his mincing pace.
“Can we not come to some reasonable agreement? Ten quid is not reasonable. I just paid you. Can’t we settle—”
Snoozer stopped and glared down at her. “Miss High and Mighty Archer, ye gave me a few coins—”
“It’s more than a few—”
“—which won’t even cover meals and boarding for yer brother and sister.”
“They’re eight and six. How much do you think they eat?” She balled her fists and forced herself to stay calm. Arguing with Snoozer would not get her anywhere.
“I think I’d know that better than ye,” he said.
His words stung because he was right. She hadn’t seen Charlie and Joanna for almost six months now.
She had no idea where they were sleeping, what they were eating, if they were eating.
Her siblings’ lives were in Snoozer’s hands.
If he decided to cut her off, she’d never see Charlie or Joanna again.
“Listen,” she said, trying not to sound as though she were pleading.
If he sensed weakness, he’d only go for the kill.
“I know you’re a businessman, and I’m”—she swallowed the bile in her throat—“happy to pay for their upkeep while you…” She pressed her lips together, trying to think of the correct term.
Hold them prisoner would only anger Snoozer, accurate as it may be.
Work them to death sweeping chimneys was also accurate, but those weren’t the sweet words she needed.
“While I care for them?” Snoozer supplied.
“Yes. But ten quid, Snoozer.” She gave him her sweetest smile. “Can’t we negotiate?”
He gave her a long look, making her skin crawl. She hadn’t meant negotiate in the way he seemed to take it.
“Ye got nothing I want, Miss High and Mighty. Get me the ten pounds, and I’ll send yer siblings home. When ye have the blunt, have Big John send for me.”
This time Tamsin let him walk away. When he was out of sight, she allowed the rage she’d been holding in to bubble to the surface.
She stalked away from the yard, far enough so Mrs. Brown wouldn’t hear, and came upon a metal barrel where men built fires on cold nights to keep warm.
With a growl, she kicked it. The impact hurt her foot in its thin boot, but she didn’t care.
With a frustrated cry, she thrust her hands at the barrel and shoved it over, kicking it again for good measure.
“Well, you’ve made that barrel sorry,” said a voice behind her. Damn and blast. She’d forgotten about Kildare.
She slumped her shoulders and let out a long sigh.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears of frustration at her impotence and humiliation.
And now the only thing worse than Snoozer’s sneering expression was having the man she’d mooned over for two years witness it.
“Mr. Kildare,” she said, turning slowly to face him.
He stood just a few feet away, his face in shadow.
The moon shed enough light to allow her to carve his form—his excellent form—out of the gloom.
She could make out long legs, broad shoulders, and a chiseled profile.
As she watched, he held out the greatcoat draped over one arm and strode toward her.
“Put this on,” he ordered. “It’s cold.”
She didn’t argue. She didn’t have the words as his actions were so completely unexpected.
The heavy wool coat fell over her shoulders, and immediately she was wrapped in his warmth.
The scent of bergamot and oranges teased her nose, and she had the urge to bury herself in the garment and curl up for days or weeks.
She was so weary, and it had been so long since anyone save her mother had shown her any kindness.
Tamsin shoved away the impulse to give in and give up. Charlie and Joanna needed her. She didn’t have the luxury of surrender.
Kildare held out a gloved hand. “Come back to the yard and tell me what all that was about.”
Tamsin took his hand, feeling the soft leather of the gloves against her rough skin.
She followed him behind the coffee shop, glad to get off the street—the windows of the Brown family rooms looked down upon the lane and she didn’t want to risk one of the Browns waking up, peering out, and seeing her.
Once back in the yard, Mr. Kildare led her to a stack of wooden crates used as a chair.
Tamsin balanced on the crates and looked up at him.
“You wanted to know why I stole the items from the duchess. Now you see,” she said, trying not to notice how much better she could see his face in the dim light of the lamp she’d placed on a broken table when she’d met Snoozer in the yard earlier.
She should extinguish it and save the lamp oil since Mrs. Brown accounted for everything and would surely blame her for using it without permission.
But Tamsin still couldn’t quite believe Kildare was here, in the flesh, and she wouldn’t relinquish her last chance to look upon his handsome face.