Chapter 10
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Tamsin studied the unremarkable brown brick building as Kildare dealt with the horses and curricle.
Finally, he joined her and ushered her into the building and up four flights of stairs to the top floor.
There, he knocked on the door, waited, knocked again, then reached up and slid a key from the ledge above the door.
“You must want to be burgled,” she said.
“This isn’t my flat.” He inserted the key and pushed the door open. “Killian?” No one answered.
“Who is Killian?” she asked.
“My brother.” He pushed the door wider, and Tamsin peered into a large room that smelled of paint and turpentine.
A row of French doors on one wall let in an enormous amount of light, and Kildare crossed to them and flung them open, allowing in more light and hopefully beginning the process of airing the place out.
The French doors opened to a large stone terrace with a high wall.
The stone floor was covered in every color imaginable.
Glancing about the room, she saw a dozen paintings in every stage of completion.
Several were on easels, and others were propped against columns or walls.
A row of what appeared to be paintings of apples leaned against a shelf of paints and brushes.
A few tattered chairs were set haphazardly about as well as a chaise longue and a stool.
She saw a painting of a woman lying on the chaise longue.
She appeared to be asleep. Another painting showed a woman tangled in sheets with the French windows in the background.
She realized there must be a bed behind the gauzy curtains on the far side of the room.
Kildare crossed to the curtains and opened them. The bed was neatly made. A set of folded towels had been placed on the edge beside a folded pile of male clothing.
“Your brother lives here?” she asked.
“No. This is his studio. We’re in luck because it appears as though the maid came and cleaned this morning.
” He crossed to a cupboard, opened it, and studied the contents.
It was some sort of larder. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said as he busied himself pulling food out of the larder and arranging it on a wooden board.
Tamsin studied the chaise longue, decided it was clean enough, and sat on the edge.
She’d always wondered what it would feel like to sit on one of these.
When she’d been younger, her parents had taken her to museums where she had seen a few paintings of women draped over these in various states of undress.
Kildare was still busy at the larder, so she arranged herself on the chaise, imitating the poses she remembered.
The chaise was surprisingly comfortable, the velvet fabric soft and plush against her cheek.
Kildare turned with his wooden board then stopped mid-step. Aware of how foolish she must look, Tamsin immediately sat up. “Sorry. I was—”
“No need to apologize,” he said, seeming to recover himself. He lowered his eyes as he brought the board to her, placing it on the end of the chaise. “I was thinking if my brother saw you, he’d want to paint you.”
“Me?” She felt her cheeks heat. “Why?”
“You’re beautiful, especially now that you don’t look like you will blow away at the slightest breeze.”
“I look like a boy in these clothes.”
“Not to me. Wine?” He lifted the bottle from the board.
Tamsin had rarely drunk wine. She simply didn’t have the blunt for alcohol, and if she did have money, she didn’t spend it on drink.
But she nodded and watched as he poured the dark red liquid into a glass and passed it to her.
She sniffed it, wrinkled her nose, and took a swallow.
“It’s not bad,” she said.
“Try sipping it, unless you want to be falling over drunk in a half hour. Here.” He nudged the board toward her, and she surveyed the apple slices, grapes, and wedges of cheese he’d arranged.
“Won’t your brother be annoyed that you’re drinking his wine and eating his food?”
Kildare grinned. “I hope so.” He bit an apple slice in half. “Now, tell me what you were about at the Grant residence. You were supposed to make inquiries downstairs.”
“I did,” she said, popping a few grapes into her mouth.
They burst with sweetness when she bit down, and she closed her eyes in enjoyment.
She realized that since she’d been with Kildare, she hadn’t been hungry.
Her head had stopped pounding, and she could enjoy her food, rather than simply wolfing it down as quickly as possible.
“None of the servants I spoke to knew who the chimney sweep was, so I started talking to the broomer cleaning the kitchen chimney. I asked if he knew a broomer by the name of Charlie or Joanna, and I told him what they looked like. He said they might be with his crew, so I went to look.”
“And?” Kildare’s warm brown eyes were fixed on her as he listened intently, and she felt her skin prickle in response. She took another sip of the wine, her tongue becoming accustomed to the taste now.
“And I didn’t see them, but I found the lad who must have been the sweep’s apprentice. He said his master was named Barker. He’d heard of Snoozer, didn’t like him much, and said he’d better keep to his side of town.”
Kildare’s brows went up. “What’s his side?”
“I don’t know. He said something like, Snoozer ’ad better stay on ’is side and keep south of Temple Bar.”
“It’s rather uncanny how you can do that accent.”
“My stepfather sounded like that,” she said with a pang of sadness at the memory. “What is south of Temple Bar?”
“Nowhere I want to venture. We’ll find a map of London and note possible areas of interest.”
“Where can we find a map?” she asked.
“My father has one in his study, but we can also find one at Hatchards.”
“Hatchards?”
“It’s a bookstore. I’ll take you tomorrow. Perhaps I can also take you to a blacksmith. He might be able to make you a new lever for the automaton.”
Tamsin set her almost-empty wineglass on the floor. “Why would you do that?”
“Why not?”
She shook her head, for once allowing all the questions she’d held at bay to spring forth. “Why are you doing all of this for me? Why are you helping me find my siblings and offering to help me fix the automaton and feeding me all the time?”
“I got tired of worrying about you fainting.”
“That was one time,” she shot back. “Kildare, be serious. What is it you are expecting in return for all of this?”
He jerked back as though she’d punched him. “Nothing. I don’t expect anything from you. Is that the kind of man you think I am?”
“I don’t know another kind. Are you saying you don’t want to roger me?”
He closed his eyes and pressed a finger between his eyes.
“Did I shock you? Should I have said swive or maybe—”
“I do want you,” he said.
Tamsin took a breath. She’d known it, but somehow hearing him say the words made her feel things she hadn’t expected. Her belly fluttered, and her chest tightened.
“But not out of obligation or as some sort of payment. I want you to want me.”
Oh, she did. Very much.
“As to why I am helping you with your brother and sister, it’s because I don’t like thinking of children being taken from their mother and made to work like that.
” He waved a hand. “Yes, I know there are a thousand others with similar stories, but I can’t help all of them.
I might be able to help your Joanna and Charlie.
Besides”—he raked a hand through his hair—“I like spending time with you.”
“Why?” She was intrigued at the way his cheeks had gone scarlet.
“You’re interesting. Sometimes you make me laugh. You always keep me on my toes. I thought my mother would see you for sure this morning.”
Tamsin swallowed. She remembered the lovely dark-haired woman to whom he’d been speaking. She’d looked like a queen. “So that was your mother?”
“Yes, she’d come to collect Mrs. Grant for some charity meeting.”
Tamsin swallowed. She thought of her own mother, who was thin and hard. She had none of the soft beauty or regal bearing of a woman like Kildare’s mother. “What is she called? Her title, I mean.”
“She’s the Countess of Glenister.”
“Lady Glenister?”
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t you a lord, or are you? I think you told me once, but I can’t recall.” She was rather appalled to realize she had been calling him Kildare or Mr. Kildare when she was supposed to call him my lord.
“Only the eldest son is a lord. I’m just honorable.”
“What?”
“I’m a sir. My sister is a lady, though. Lady Mariah.”
“That’s a pretty name. I’ve always hated my name. I wished I was called something like Victoria or Susanna.”
“You don’t look like a Susanna. Susannas are temperamental and stubborn.
I have a cousin named Susanna.” He caught her hand and held it in his warm one, making Tamsin forget to breathe for a moment.
“I don’t expect anything from you. Your company is enough.
” He lowered his eyes then looked up at her with a playful look she hadn’t seen from him before.
“Though I did think our kiss was memorable.”
She smiled. How could she not smile when he looked at her like that?
“It was a very nice kiss.”
“Nice? If you ever let me try again, I can do better than nice.”
The kiss they’d shared had been so much more than nice, but she found she enjoyed teasing him. “I doubt it,” she said, hiding her smile when he straightened indignantly.
“If you were a man, I’d challenge you to pistols at dawn.”
“If I were a man, you wouldn’t want to kiss me again. Go ahead then. Let’s see if you can improve.”
His playful expression vanished, and his gaze was suddenly intent, making her feel far too warm under the scratchy livery she wore.
“I may kiss you again?”
“Just a kiss,” she said, her voice sounding slightly husky. “I don’t need a brat to care for.”