Page 41 of Speculations in Sin

“He won’t go nigh Mrs. Millburn, I promise you.” Daniel’s words rang with determination. “I have men stationed around Clover Lane, watching who goes in and out. They won’t be afraid to stop Jarrett.”

“Which means they are just as bad as him.”

“Worse.” Daniel gave a short laugh. “You remember Grimes?”

Zachariah Grimes had been a childhood friend of Daniel’s. He was a congenial man but big and tough. I relaxed a bit. He’d guard Joanna well.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I told you I’d help.” Daniel flashed me his smile. “I know I didn’t send word to you today, but I’ve been running all over London. I take it you know Millburn was sent to Newgate pending his trial?”

“So Mr. Jarrett told me. No one else did.”

“I’m sorry.” Daniel became more apologetic. “I told Lewis to convey the news, but he must not have had the chance. Jameshas been kept hopping as well. I’m trying to find a good solicitor for Millburn, but the ones I approached won’t touch the case.”

“Miss Townsend already offered a barrister,” I said. “I suppose she will seek a solicitor as well.” Solicitors had to approach the barrister on the client’s behalf. I suppose it was gauche for barristers to actually speak to a client without a go-between.

“Did she? Excellent news. I imagine anyone she suggests will be clever and impeccable.”

“It is likely.” My teeth began to chatter, truly with cold now. My coat only kept out so much, and I had no hat or gloves.

“My dearest, let us get you inside.” Daniel took me by the elbow and began leading me to the stairs only a yard away.

I shook him off and reached for the basket. “I haven’t handed out the food yet. There are those less fortunate than me waiting for the only meal they might have today.”

Daniel didn’t relinquish the basket to me. “I’ll help you. I enjoy doing good deeds. Here you are, sir.” He turned to a man who’d approached. “Finest food in London.”

It was the older man I’d sent off to Mr. Fielding on Thursday—he was back, accepting from Daniel the cloth-wrapped leftover chops and bit of bread in his threadbare-gloved hands. If I was handy at knitting, I’d make him another pair.

“It is that,” the man agreed. “Always a queue for the queen of Mayfair.”

Daniel laughed, his breath fogging. “An apt name for her.”

I shook my head at the both of them as Daniel moved on to the next person. “What absolute nonsense.”

The older man touched my arm as Daniel moved down the line, dispensing the contents of my basket with a jovial word for each recipient. I heard chuckles and laughter warming the January air.

“A word to the wise, missus,” the man said. “Be careful around that bloke. He’s a bad ’un. Everyone south of the river knowshim.”

“I realized he was a complete villain,” I assured him. “That’s why Mr. McAdam sent him off. Do not worry—he’ll not be back in these parts.”

“No, not’im. ’E’s nothing.” The man dismissed Mr. Jarrett with a wave. He ducked his head closer to mine, his breath sour with the remnants of gin. “Thatone.” He jerked a thumb at Daniel. “The one you call McAdam. Not the name ’e used in my day. Have a care of ’im, missus. There, I’ve warned ye.”

“What do you mean? What name did—?”

My words cut off as the man slid into darkness, beating a hasty retreat toward Berkeley Square. At the same time, Daniel swung back to me, eyes glittering under the gas lamps.

“All done,” he announced. “Now, we go inside out of this weather. No argument.”

Daniel seized my arm and led me downstairs, my questions dying on my lips.

12

My shock at the man’s proclamation didn’t leave me, though I was grateful for the kitchen’s warm embrace. I woodenly hung up my coat and turned to the table, where Daniel was greeting Tess.

Tess took the basket from him to return to its place beside the dresser, beaming happily. “Always brighten the place, you do, Mr. McAdam.”

“At least someone is welcoming tonight.” Daniel sent his teasing glance to me. “Mrs. Holloway has forgotten how to speak.”

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