Page 28 of West End Earl
So the butcher’s son had decided to accept his offer of employment after all. “Put him in the library. I’ll be there in a moment. Thank you, Higgins.”
Exactly five minutes later, Cal made his entrance.
From the side, Nelson Shaw didn’t look like a ruffian. If anything, he resembled a scared kid whose mama had combed his hair, then spit on her thumb to wipe the dirt off his face. His clothes were freshly pressed but fit him poorly as he stood at attention in the middle of the room, as if afraid to move a muscle.
The anxiety evident in Nelson’s stiff posture and profile made Cal want to soften, but looks could be deceiving. Ophelia proved that. No matter how he appeared at the moment, Nelson had participated in the attack on her. Fresh anger brewed in his gut.
Had this nervous kid been the one to kick her ribs and stomach? Cal had seen the bruises himself, blossoming beneath the edge of the bandage around her torso. Had Nelson let her fall, watched her head smash against the cobblestones?
Maybe Nelson had kept some of her clothing for himself. With a critical eye, Cal examined what the young man wore. None of it looked familiar, which worked in the lad’s favor. One thing Cal knew was clothes—particularly her clothes, since once upon a time they’d been in his own wardrobe. But no, these garments would make his tailor wince, although Nelson had made an effort for the interview.
Cal closed the door behind him with more force than necessary, announcing his presence. He hadn’t thought it possible, but Nelson straightened further.
“We meet at last, Mr. Shaw. I’ve heard so much about you.” Cal took a seat behind his desk but refrained for the moment from waving Nelson to a chair. “Not all of it good.”
A ruddy blush stained Nelson’s cheeks, but he acknowledged the statement with a jerky nod.
“You are here today to discuss a position in my employ because of one reason, and one reason only. Even after your role in his attack, Mr. Hardwick vouched for you. He claims you’re redeemable. Are you?”
“What? I mean, pardon, milord?” Nelson gulped. Goodness, the young man’s voice cracked. For a moment, Cal felt sorry for him.
“Redeemable, young Nelson. Are you a good man who made a bad choice, or are you a thief taking advantage of Mr. Hardwick’s kindness?”
“I’d like to think I’m a good man. Or at least, I could be.”
Cal grunted and steepled his fingers under his chin. “We shall see, won’t we? My offer of employment comes with one condition.”
Hope lit Nelson’s features. “Yes, milord?”
“I expect loyalty from my staff. By extension, that implies loyalty to my friends and family. Those that enter this house are under my protection. That would include Mr. Hardwick. You see where the dilemma lies, do you not?”
Nelson shifted slightly and stared at his shoes.
“Yes, I think you do see. If I take you on staff and you steal from me, I will see you prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. They hang thieves, you know.” A smooth chill wrapping around the words. Silence descended until Nelson cleared his throat and met Cal’s gaze.
“I won’t steal from you, milord.”
Meeting his gaze took stones—he’d give him that. “And Mr. Hardwick? What about him? You’ve already stolen from him. How do you propose to make that right?”
Nelson opened his mouth but shut it again. With a frown, he finally asked, “How can I, milord?”
It felt like a hunter catching prey in a trap, and when Cal smiled, he made sure to show teeth. “Information. In this position, you will have a smart uniform, ample food, and a salary that contributes to your family significantly. In exchange for wearing my colors, you will tell me everything you know about the crew from your neighborhood.” Cal eased out of his chair, rising to loom over his desk. Were he built like Ethan, intimidation would be easier. The broad and burly Scotsman would have this youngster pissing himself with one broody glower. “I want names. I want to know why you attacked my friend. Was it random or targeted? If targeted, you’ll tell me why and who ordered it.”
The intent turned out to be effective, even without Ethan’s size. Nelson shuffled back a half step, keeping a wary eye on Cal, but gave a terse nod. “Understood, milord. I won’t run with them no more. I won’t need to with this job.”
Cal moved around his desk to lean against the front, crossing his arms. “Don’t cut ties entirely. Not yet. You must walk a fine line for a while. Obviously, I expect you to refrain from criminal activity. But you’ll have to be close enough to hear and report to me if Mr. Hardwick becomes a target again. If you hear his name in any context, I expect a report.”
“You want me to be a turncoat.”
“I see we understand each other. As long as you and I are on the same side, you’ll find your time here valuable. And should you find that a position in service isn’t one you want to pursue long-term, I will write a reference for you in line with the man of character Mr. Hardwick believes you to be. Agreed?” Cal offered a hand, and after a brief hesitation, Nelson shook it.
“Agreed, milord.”
“Good, then you and I should sit for a chat. Afterwards, I’ll take you to Higgins. He will get your livery and assess where you’ll fit best in the house.” Waving his new double agent toward the fireplace, Cal took his customary chair.
Nelson paused in the air, hovering briefly over the seat.
“Second thoughts, lad?”
