Chapter 12
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When she arrived home, Tamsin avoided her mother’s narrow looks and pointed questions.
She was disappointed enough in herself. She didn’t want her mother to lose hope that Charlie and Joanna would return, even though she was starting to lose that hope herself.
That night, when the two of them lay down on Kildare’s coat, Tamsin tried very hard not to catch his scent.
She definitely would not pull out his handkerchief.
She shouldn’t have even kept it. All it did was remind her of him.
And when she thought of him, she couldn’t not think about the way he’d used his talented mouth on her.
“What’s wrong?” her mother asked.
“Nothing.”
“You moaned.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Her mother made a dubious sound. They listened to the creak of the floorboards above as Big John prepared for bed. “I’ve been thinking,” her mother said. “I might ask John to hire me.”
Tamsin turned toward her. “He’s paying you with this room.”
“Maybe he can take something out for board, but I think he’d be interested.
He needs someone to watch the shop when he goes out to solicit buyers for the better items. And when he’s here I can keep it clean and tidy.
He told me today he’s sold more items since I’ve been here.
Customers can see what’s for sale since I organized the merchandise. ”
“What about me? I don’t think he needs two of us working here.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking about—you and the little ones. We need a place for all of us.”
Tamsin’s heart twisted when her mother spoke of Charlie and Joanna with such hope in her voice.
At some point she must have come to believe that Tamsin might truly free them from Snoozer.
For a little while there, Tamsin had believed it too.
She believed they’d one day have that home in Cheapside with the flowers in the window box and the lumpy couch and the cozy fire.
That dream seemed further away than ever before.
“We can’t afford a place if I don’t find a position.
” That was easier said than done. There were few employment opportunities for a woman that didn’t involve selling her body.
She was too small and thin to get work in the laundry, and she wouldn’t last a week in a workhouse.
Her sewing skills were abysmal, meaning no seamstress would hire her.
Perhaps she was destined to return to selling flowers.
She sighed and stared at the ceiling. Slowly, her gaze was drawn to the table, where the dim light from the stove winked off the jewels of the caterpillar.
If she could fix the automaton, that would bring in some blunt.
Maybe it would be enough for a room at a boardinghouse—at least until she could find another source of income. Even if she had to go back to stealing.
“I’ll find something, Mama,” she said. “I won’t let you down.”
That promise included Joanna and Charlie. She didn’t need Garret Kildare to find her siblings. She could do that all on her own.
“You could never disappoint me, Tamsin,” her mother said, sounding sleepy. “You are one of the three best things that ever happened to me.”
· · ·
The next morning, Tamsin took the still-warm lever from the blacksmith and inspected it. She compared it to the original she’d showed him and nodded. “Perfect,” she declared. The lever should fit seamlessly into the automaton.
“That’ll be two pence.” The blacksmith held out a hand. Tamsin reached into her pocket, but before she could extract the coins, someone dropped them into the blacksmith’s palm. She turned and came face-to-face with Garret Kildare.
“What do you think you’re doing? I don’t need your blunt.”
“I’ll take it,” the blacksmith said. “And if there’s to be a row, have it outside.”
Tamsin glared at Kildare and marched out of the shop, standing in the muddy road outside. “I don’t want your money,” she said. Her gaze fell on a basket he carried, and her stomach rumbled. “Or your charity.”
“Then don’t think of it as charity. Think of it as payment for acting as my tiger the last few days.”
Tamsin wanted to argue, but she would rather keep the few coins she had. Two pence was nothing to Kildare, but to her it could mean the difference between sleeping under a roof or under a bridge. Plus, she had earned some compensation.
“Fine.” She snatched the basket out of his hand. “We’re even now.” With a whirl, she started back home.
“Archer, I need to talk to you,” Kildare said, falling into step beside her.
“You’ve nothing to say that I want to hear.
” This was a blatant lie. Every single part of her wanted to turn to him, throw herself in his arms, and forgive him.
But she had to stop pretending he would ever love her back.
She had to protect herself and focus on what was important—finding her siblings.
“I understand that, but you could at least allow me to explain.”
Tamsin stopped in front of a cart where a man was selling fruit.
“Explain that you were seducing me while what you really wanted was one of your high-and-mighty ladies? I don’t need the ways of the world explained.
I have nothing, and I’m no one. I’m not good enough for you. There. Are we done now?”
“No. None of that is true. I care about you, Archer.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “I want you.”
Tamsin wanted to step back, but the pull of him was too much. She allowed herself this one weakness and soaked in his warmth and the faint bergamot scent of him.
“You want me?”
He put a hand on her arm, and she suppressed the shiver that threatened to course through her body. “I do. Your mind, your laughter, your wit, your body. I want you more than anything.”
“Then we should go,” she said, linking her arm with his. “You’ll want to introduce me to your mama.”
Kildare let out a breath and dropped her arm. Tamsin pretended to be confused, blinking innocently. “What is it, Mr. Kildare? Is your mother out shopping? I could find time later—”
“Stop. You know I can’t introduce you to my family.”
She cocked her head, still pretending to misunderstand. “Why not?”
“You don’t understand my situation. It’s not that simple. I’m not free to marry whomever I desire.”
“As though you would ever consider marrying a person like me.”
“I would.”
She gave a bark of laughter.
“Archer, I would!”
“Oi! Move along if ye ain’t buying me apples and oranges,” the costermonger demanded.
Tamsin turned and started back toward the pawnshop. At the corner, Garret caught her arm. “You think my life is so simple?” he asked, looking down at her.
“Do tell me how difficult your life is, Mr. Kildare.” She folded her arms and leaned back against the wall of the shop behind them.
“Fine. Before I met you my father sat us all down and told us the money had run out. We can barely afford to pay our staff, we will need to give up the town house, and we can’t afford taxes on the estate in Ireland.”
“No servants, no town house in Hanover Square, and no castle—you did say it was a castle, yes?—in Ireland. How will you survive?”
He blew out a breath. “My father’s solution was to marry my sister Mariah—who is fifteen, by the way—to some old peer with a fortune.”
“And? Girls are sold in this city every minute and for a lot less than a thousand pounds or whatever fortune you want.”
“Not my sister. Not if I can help it. My brothers and I decided we’d marry instead. That’s why I need an heiress. If I can marry a woman with at least thirty thousand pounds, then my sister is saved.”
“Thirty thousand—do people really have that much?” She couldn’t even imagine such wealth.
“Miss Penelope Grant has that much. We were in her house yesterday. And Lady Callista Stanhope. I’ve already lost Miss Grant, but if I can persuade Lady Callista or another heiress to marry me, my sister is saved.”
Tamsin wanted to be angry with him, but if there was one thing she could understand it was love for one’s family. She would have done anything for Charlie and Joanna. “Then why are you standing here with me?” she asked. “Go woo your heiress.”
“I should,” he said. “I should be doing everything I can to put myself in the good graces of Lady Callista or another heiress, but every time I’m in their presence, all I can think of is you.”
Tamsin’s breath caught. He was saying everything she wanted to hear, and yet, his words meant nothing. In the end, he wouldn’t choose her.
“I think you feel the same way about me,” he said. “At Killian’s you said you would have done anything to be close to me. I feel the same. I’d do anything for you, except one small thing—I can’t marry you.”
Tamsin swallowed the lump in her throat. “Then what else is there to say?” Her voice sounded raw and low. “Unless you want to stand here and keep telling me why we can’t be together.”
“I didn’t say we couldn’t be together. I said I can’t marry you, but I can keep you safe—you and your mother and Charlie and Joanna. I still want to help you find them. If you’ll allow me, I’ll take care of all of you just as soon as I marry an heiress.”
Tamsin furrowed her brow then shrank back against the building as understanding bloomed. “You mean I’d be your whore.”
“No. You would never be a whore.”
“But you’d give me money for going to bed with you.”
“I’d give you money because I care about you. Yes, I want to take you to bed. You want me in your bed too.”
She shook her head. “Not if you’re married to another woman. Not if you’re lying with her when you’re not with me. Not if you’re holding her children while I sit by the window and hope you haven’t forgotten me. And what do you think my mother will say? What sort of example would I set for Joanna?”
“It’s not a perfect solution,” Kildare said, raking a hand through his auburn hair. “But it’s all I can give you.”