Page 55 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
She was gone in the morning before he left, leaving neat piles of his correspondence in the book room, with directions on what to sign and what to tell Lasker to set out for the post. He initialed the little receipt for yesterday’s violets, and on impulse added a note for another pot and directed it to the florist.This one’s for you, Emma, he thought as he tucked that receipt with the others in the envelope for his banker and folded the note to the florist.
The weather was fine so he drove his curricle, leaving his tiger behind this time to fret. Since traffic was light, he turned toward the city first, thinking to drop off the note to the florist himself. Emma would probably enjoy a little surprise when she returned that evening.
He hurried through his errand and was moving intotraffic again when he noticed Emma, her eyes straight ahead, moving swiftly along the sidewalk not fifty feet in front of him. He almost hailed her, thinking to invite her to ride with him to her destination, then thought better of it.I will follow her instead, he considered.
It was an easy matter to travel behind her, moving slowly with the traffic, always keeping her in sight, but not dogging her heels, either. She had no notion she was being followed but hurried along with that purposeful, swinging gait of hers that he had admired on occasion. She walked like someone used to walking, someone who was going somewhere. It was a healthy walk, and one that stirred him somehow.
She led him deep into the City to a row of government buildings not far from the Admiralty. The traffic was thinning out now, so he drove to the curb and left his horse and curricle under the watchful eye of a street urchin and his little sister. “Mind that nothing happens, and you will have a crown,” he admonished as he tied the reins and continued after Emma on foot.
He recognized the Home Office and waited on the sidewalk until she was inside. He sprinted across the road then, determined not to lose her in the building, and remembering it, from a visit years ago, as a regular rabbit warren of offices and cubbyholes.
There she was, walking slower now, almost reluctantly, as she had during their visit to Newgate. She appeared to hesitate before an open door. As he watched, she squared her shoulders, appeared to take a deep breath, and held her head up as she walked into the room. The gallant gesture went right to his heart.
He knew he dared not follow any farther, some instinct telling him that she would be unhappy to see him there. She appeared to be in a lobby or antechamber, and there were others standing and waiting. He turned to go and collided with a clerk, his sleeves rolled up, his expression harried,carrying stacks of papers that flew out of his hands and slid across the cold marble floor.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” the clerk gasped, going down on all fours to retrieve his papers.
“Oh, my fault, my fault,” Lord Ragsdale insisted and dropped to his knees to help. They gathered up papers in silence for a moment, then he sat back on his heels. “Tell me, what is that office?” he asked, gesturing toward the door where Emma had disappeared.
The clerk, his face red from exertion, took the documents from him. “It’s the Office of Criminal Business,” he said. “Mr. John Henry Capper is chief clerk, sir.”
Lord Ragsdale thanked him, got to his feet, and brushed off his trousers. He strolled toward the entrance, his mind in a ferment.Emma, what is your business with that band of thieves?
He stood outside the building a moment, wondering what Emma would do if he joined her in the anteroom.This is none of my business, he argued with himself.If she wanted to tell me, she would. I have given her plenty of openings.He thought again of Sir Augustus’s advice.Do I dare poke at your wounds, Emma? You prodded mine, but then I agreed to it. I have no right to do the same to you.
And Clarissa was waiting. “Blast it!” he said out loud, and started running toward his curricle. He looked back once at the building, then tried to put it out of his mind.
Chapter 16
Lord Ragsdale had alwaysliked Hampton Court, even from his earliest days, when his mother and father took him walking there on one of their infrequent trips to London. He loved the sound that a pair of firm footsteps could make in the great hall, and never objected, no matter what the weather, to a perambulation about the whole building to gaze at the medallions on the walls and wonder about the arrogance of kings. As he grew older, he occasionally thought how nice it would be to bring a lady to Hampton Court. He couldn’t imagine a better place for a little serious wooing.
But not today, not even with one of the Season’s loveliest diamonds hanging on his arm and looking at him with those crystal blue eyes. On another day, perhaps he could have appreciated the way her bosom brushed his arm, and the way she had of running her tongue along her lips that had probably reduced other peers to blancmange. As it was, he entertained as best he could with tales of headless ghosts, thinking of Emma in that anteroom of the Office of Criminal Business.
Merciful heaven, criminal business. But Clarissa was tugging at his sleeve and pouting her prettiest pout, one that surely should have earned her a quick kiss at least. He swallowed, fighting down words of irritation that he knew he would regret, and resisted the urge to brush her off.
“You’re not listening to a thing I am saying, John,” she said.
She was right. He hadn’t heard one word in ten of her babble.
What was she carrying on about? Could it be even half as important as what Emma was doing, even now as he dawdled through a musty old hall with England’s prettiest woman on his arm? There were other tourists about, and he looked up occasionally from his contemplation of the parquet flooring to notice the envious glances other men were giving him.I am a fool, he thought, and the idea cheered him immensely.But I was already a fool, so this is nothing to repine about.
“I’m sorry, my dear Clarissa,” he said, hoping he sounded contrite. He stopped and faced her, taking both her hands in his. “I do have a little business on my mind.” He kissed her nose. “Let me resolve to forget it.”
But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried to devote his whole attention to the beauty he squired about. His head was beginning to ache. His scalp began to itch where the ties to his eye patch knotted at the back of his head. He found himself walking faster, as though trying to hurry up the afternoon so he could return to the Home Office. He could not fathom why he had ever considered Hampton Court such a favorite of his.
Clarissa, Clarissa, what am I going to do with you?he asked himself.You are beautiful, and it could very well be that I love you, but right now, I wish we were anywhere but here.He thought a moment, considering his options, and then decided that only the honorable thing would do; he would lie.
“Clarissa, I do have some pressing business in the City,” he confessed. “It involves some ... some charitable work I am doing at Newgate.”What a corker that is, he thought.The Lord may strike me dead. Why couldn’t I have mentioned orphans at St. Paul’s or the deserving poor under some bridge?
“Newgate?” she echoed, her voice reaching a distinctly unpleasant pitch. “You?”
“Well, yes,” he said, piqued that his reputation was so lackluster that she considered philanthropy out of the question and then ashamed of himself for the lie. “They are wretched creatures!”
That was no prevarication. He could testify to their wretchedness. He took her hand and strolled along, resisting the urge to whip out his pocket watch and begrudge each second that crawled by. “I have a transaction I must perform on their behalf at the Office of Criminal Business, and I really should not put it off.” He placed his hand on his chest. “They need me.”
He tried not to wince, waiting for an offended deity to smite him dead. Nothing happened, except that Clarissa clung to his hand even more tightly and gazed up into his face with an expression closely resembling adoration.
“What a wonderful man you are,” she breathed, and again he wondered about the stress to her corset strings. “I am sure I never knew anyone as considerate as you.”
