Page 102 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

“You need to control your woman, Beckham.” Mooney spit on the ground at Charlotte’s feet.

Simon laughed and stepped between them. “She doesn’t need controlling.”

“Ha!” Mooney barked another laugh. “Saving then? Come to rescue her powdered and pampered arse?”

“Wrong again. She’s doing fine by herself. You, on the other hand.” Simon shook his head andtsked.“I expect the constable will arrive any moment and lock you up until you sleep it off.”

Nose-to-nose with Mooney, Simon’s face scrunched in distaste, no doubt from the stench emanating off the man. “But, a word of caution. I would take my wife’s words to heart. She is true to her word. Now, allow me to rescueyoursorry arse and escort my wife away.” He turned toward her. “Come, Charlotte. I better take you home before you cause any more excitement.”

Charlotte hesitated. “We can’t leave the boy alone with the brute.”

Simon tipped his head, his eyes directed forward, and she followed his motion.

A man wearing an apron rushed up, and several other burly men raced behind.

“That’s Mr. Cooper, the constable. The others assist him when Mooney needs to be restrained.”

“You mean this is a common occurrence?” She gawked at Simon as he guided her away from Mooney’s shouts of anger toward her.

“Unfortunately, yes. However, your interference today may have changed Mooney’s course.”

Pride swelled in her chest. “I stopped him?”

He held out his hand to assist her into the carriage. “Eitherthat or added your name to his list of vendettas.” Simon’s usually congenial expression appeared grave and concerned. He flipped the boy watching their carriage a few extra coins, then climbed in beside her.

Questions tangled in her mind from the excursion to Swindon, but she started with the most pressing. “Why didn’t you stop that horrible man?”

Simon gave a shrug. “I saw the Andersons rush by and knew they would alert the constable. Confronting Mooney only makes him angrier, and the boy suffers for it.”

“Oh.” The word slipped out on an exhale. Had she made matters worse? “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s all right, Charlotte. You gave Mooney something to chew on while he’s locked up.” He handed her the bakery package. “Besides, I had to protect your plum tarts. And I did enjoy watching you plant him a facer. He had it coming. Remind me to never get on your bad side.” He snapped the ribbons and urged the horses forward.

She huffed a laugh. “Isn’t that our normal state of being?”

His ridiculous grin crept across his lips, and realization dawned that she found it attractive.

“I’d hoped we’d progressed a little.” Peering over, he gave her a weak smile.

“Perhaps a little. Much depends on your answers to my questions.” She unknotted the cluster of thoughts in her mind and reached for the most pressing ones.

“About?”

“What happened to the baker’s daughter?”

As if she’d magically wiped it away, his smile vanished in an instant. “Might we talk about something else?”

“You promised you’d tell me later. I’m asking now. Then I want to know about Miss Pace.”

But from the expression on Simon’s face, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Damn it all!Why did he have to mention the plum tarts and remind her what Samuel had said? Simon pulled in a breath, unsure where to start.

“The two are related,” he said, easing into the conversation.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Which woman came first?”

“Joy, Samuel’s daughter.” He focused on the road ahead of him, avoiding her eyes. “You asked how many women I have deflowered. Joy was the only one. Most of the time, she embodied her name, practically bubbling with happiness. But other times...” He paused, remembering the sudden bouts of deep sadness during which she seemed unreachable.

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