Chapter 8
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Garret didn’t say so, but Tamsin looked like a small, wet mouse. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks and neck, her clothes were drenched, and those blue eyes were enormous in her heart-shaped pale face. He’d opened his arms before he could think better of it.
She gave him a look of horror, and then he did think better of it.
He knew he shouldn’t pull her close or hold her, but he couldn’t quite make himself act the gentleman.
Not when all he’d been able to think about since he’d seen her this morning was that kiss at the Belgrave ball.
He didn’t think he’d ever be able to put that kiss from his mind.
Perhaps the only way to forget it was to kiss her again.
Surely, a second kiss would fall flat, and he’d realize he’d only imagined how amazing the first kiss had been.
For a moment Tamsin looked like she might reject his offer of warmth, but then she made a quick sweep of the lane with her eyes.
Finding it empty, she removed her hat, scooted closer, and pressed against him.
He folded himself around her wet, trembling body and rubbed her arms with his hands.
What had he been thinking, making her ride on the tiger’s perch?
He should have taken her home as soon as it started to drizzle.
Gradually, she stopped shaking, and he tucked the blanket around her. “No mention of Snoozer at all?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Maybe his territory is closer to the river.”
“I’m not ready to completely abandon this area yet. We’ll make more calls tomorrow.”
“What do you do on these calls?” she asked.
“Sit in a stuffy drawing room and talk of the most banal topics you could imagine.”
She looked up at him. “What is a banal topic?”
“The weather, fashion, who will host some ball or another. Nothing that would interest you.”
“Does it interest you?”
“God, no.”
“Then why do you do it—other than to give me an opportunity to ask about Snoozer?”
He didn’t want to mention his family’s financial situation or his hunt for an heiress. His family’s fight to hold on to their town house and Castle Glenister without marrying Mariah off would probably seem ridiculous to someone who was hungry and homeless. “It’s expected of me,” he said.
“Do you always do everything you’re supposed to?”
He opened his mouth to give her a cheeky retort, but he paused a moment too long.
“Of course you do!” she said, laughing. She punched his arm lightly. “Don’t even try and deny it.”
He tried to hide a wince, but her expression turned to immediate concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head.
“I didn’t hit you that hard.”
“Old injury. My arm aches sometimes when the weather is damp.”
“My mother says her arm aches when the weather is damp too. Except it’s her missing arm. She says it’s the ghost of her arm reminding her where it used to be.”
“How did she lose it?” Garret asked. He’d seen plenty of people with missing limbs. The wars against Napoleon had sent scores of men home without fingers, hands, even arms and legs.
“When my stepfather was killed, she had to go to work at a laundry. You’ve seen her.
She’s not a brawny woman. The work just about killed her, but with three mouths to feed, she didn’t have much choice.
I helped as much as I could, doing this job and that, but one of us needed to be home with the babies.
The few times we trusted them to a crawler, we were terrified we’d never see them again. ”
“What the devil is a crawler?”
“A beggar woman who will sit on a stoop and watch a baby all day in exchange for a bit of food. I’m sure you had a nanny, but that option isn’t open to someone like me.”
He’d seen women in rags, holding squalling infants. He couldn’t imagine how awful it must be to have no option but to trust a stranger with your child.
“One of us tried to be home with Charlie and Joanna as much as possible, and it was safer for Mama to work at the laundry.”
“Because the foreman might take advantage of a pretty, young girl.”
She looked away. “I’ve fought off my share of that sort. Unfortunately, winning the fight always means losing the position.”
Garret wanted to find every single man who’d ever attempted to take advantage of her and punch him in the face.
“My mother didn’t enjoy the work, but it kept a roof over our heads.
A leaky roof, but that was better than nothing.
Until the accident. The foreman had been pushing all the women to work harder and faster.
One of the hotels had sent all their linens to be washed and pressed.
My mother was working the mangler that day. ”
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what is a mangler?” The rain had slowed, but Garret had no urge to interrupt the moment. Tamsin was still snuggled against him, and he liked looking into her eyes and listening to her speak.
“A mangler is what they use to press the water out of fabric. The machine is made up of a table and a heavy rolling pin. My mother’s arm was caught under the pin, and the other women working the machine didn’t see it until it was too late. The surgeon said there was nothing to do but amputate.”
Garret tightened his arms around Tamsin. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I. I’ll never forget hearing her screams as the surgeon sawed her arm off.
I felt so helpless. Nothing I could do would stop the pain.
I think that surgery almost killed her. Without her work at the laundry, we couldn’t pay the surgeon.
I had to start selling flowers. Almost every penny I made went to the surgeon or for food for Charlie and Joanna.
That was the first time we slept under a bridge by the river or in a doorway or on a bench at the park.
We thought the jobs at Brown’s Coffee Shop would save our lives.
Instead, he sold my brother and sister for two crowns. And now here we are.”
“We’ll find Snoozer,” he said, feeling more determined than ever. “If we have to search every inch of this city, we will find him and Charlie and Joanna.”
The expression on her face was doubtful, but she didn’t say whatever it was she was thinking.
He could imagine how many people had disappointed her.
They’d made promises or offered help, and all they’d given her were empty words.
He wouldn’t do that to her. He’d show her he was a man of his word and deserved her trust. He didn’t know why he should care so much, only that he felt compelled to help her.
The first night they’d met she’d managed to slip under his skin, and now he couldn’t be rid of her.
Garret could only hope that once she was safe and had her siblings back again, he would be able to let her go and get back to his real life.
Or perhaps he’d be preparing for a new one with a bride.
“How did you injure your arm?” she asked, shocking him out of his reverie. No one ever asked about his arm. Not his family or his friends. They knew he wouldn’t talk about his time in the navy, and that his mood turned sour at even a vague mention of it.
“A piece of wood from a mast. Wood can become a weapon when a cannon blows it apart,” he said, waiting for the anger or the disgust to come over him.
But sitting here with her, the patter of raindrops on the curricle’s hood, the sound of birds singing, and the scent of wet earth and damp wool, that time in his life seemed very, very far away.
“A cannon?”
“Yes, a cannon on a ship.”
She drew back. “Were you in the navy?” she asked.
“For a time.”
She disentangled herself from him and started to climb down from the seat.
“Where are you going?”
She was on the street now, skirting puddles to walk away. He jumped down, tied the horse’s reins to the tree, and ran to catch up with her. “Archer, what’s the matter?”
She rounded on him. She’d left her hat on the seat, and her hair was coming out of its queue, the damp air causing it to curl about her face.
Her cheeks were rosy, and her face looked less hollow, probably because she’d had a couple decent meals.
She did not look at all like a young boy, despite her clothing. She looked like a beautiful woman.
“I hate the navy.”
Belatedly, Garret realized her cheeks were not rosy from nourishment but from anger. She was furious. “I hate the navy, and I hate sailors. Goodbye.”
It took him a moment to realize she was serious. This was not some sort of show. Her back was to him, and she was stomping away.
“I hate the navy too!” he called after her. She slowed but didn’t face him.
“I had no idea what it would be like when I joined. I got out as soon as I could. If I could forget that time…” He trailed off because he heard his voice begin to waver.
Tamsin did turn back to him then, her expression wary as though she didn’t quite believe him. At this point, he didn’t care. He’d already said more than he wanted. He started back toward the curricle.
“My father was caught by a press-gang and impressed into the British Navy.”
He looked back at her, and the anguish he felt matched what he saw in her face.
“One day he was home, sitting at the table with me, tucking me into bed at night, swinging me around and tossing me in the air. The next he was gone. He didn’t come home one afternoon when I was six.
My mother took me to look for him, and by the time we found out he’d been trapped in a sweep by one of the press-gangs, the ship he’d been taken to was gone.
I never saw him again.” Tears brimmed in her red-rimmed eyes, but they didn’t fall.
“I never even got to tell him goodbye.” She swiped a hand under her nose.
“Two years later there’s a knock at the door, and it’s one of your kind.
” Her nose wrinkled as though she’d smelled something rank.
“He says my father died at sea. No apology for abducting him, enslaving him, taking him away from us. He didn’t even tell us what happened or how my father died. ”