Page 5 of An Unwilling Earl
“There is that possibility,” he said softly, with a strange pang that such a beautiful girl’s life could be so brutally snuffed out.
“If I thought that I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I, Mr. Baker?”
He looked at her, surprised at her cold tone.
“I suppose not, Lady Morris.”
“So, you will help me?”
He glanced at the drawing again.
What happened to Charlotte Morris? A lover? A lover’s spat? An argument with the hard, cold woman sitting before him?
But he pushed all of that from his mind. Even if he wanted to take this case he couldn’t. He had the earldom’s books to go over, the widow and her daughter to meet. He had so much to learn about his new life that taking this on would not be fair to Lady Morris nor Miss Morris.
“I’m sorry, Lady Morris, but I can’t take this on. Finding people is not my specialty. You should hire a professional.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, and he bit back a smile. Did she think that she could change his mind just by glaring at him? Did she think that she could walk into his office, his home, and dictate his actions? Tell him what to do? Demand he be her servant?
He suppressed a shudder at the thought of working for her, but a bit of remorse lodged next to the anxiety of his new life. He really would have liked to have had the opportunity to find Miss Morris, even if it was just to get the chance to meet her and see those eyes in real life.
He stood and looked down on Lady Morris until she had no choice but to stand as well, else things become awkward. She lifted her pointy chin as she rose.
“I will leave the drawing and pray you change your mind,” she said. “You know where to find me.”
Actually, he didn’t know where to find her, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. Instead he nodded.
Jacob listened to her make her way through the entryway and out the front door. He stepped to the window and watched through the rain streaming down the outside glass, the wavy form of the tall, thin woman as she hurried through the rain, umbrella nearly useless, and climbed into a waiting carriage.
He waited until the carriage pulled away before turning back to his desk and looking down into the eyes of Miss Charlotte Morris.
Chapter Three
Charlotte kept her fingers firmly folded around the remaining bit of the coin that the kind gentleman had given her a few days before. She had been frugal with her sudden windfall, choosing to spend it wisely on food for her and Suzette. But she was down to the last of it, and tonight would be the final night they ate like royalty. Not that royalty ate greasy meat pies from street vendors.
She looked around furtively, afraid every tramp, every pickpocket and thief she passed knew she had money in her pocket.
The nice gentleman who had rescued her from the horse’s hooves had given it to her like it had been nothing to him. But it was everything to her.
She’d not had money of her own since her beloved papa died four years ago. The man’s generosity represented far more than just money in her pocket. It was food when she had been starving. It was kindness in the face of hostility. It was compassion when she’d experienced far too much cruelty.
A hot meal, he had said. The words had struck a chord in her, and she’d wanted to cry but hadn’t dared. Not in front of him.
She’d been hurrying across the street when her foot had caught on a loose cobblestone and down she’d gone, startling the horse she’d been trying to dodge. She’d thought that was it. Her life was over. And the thought hadn’t been nearly as horrible as one would think. It had been a bit of a relief to know that all of her worries would cease.
But the handsome gentleman had yanked her up by her arm. The horse’s hooves had come down with a loud clatter, and she had not been under them. To her horror she’d been sprawled on top of her rescuer. She’d jumped up as fast as she could. Hopefully, he had not realized that his hands were touching bound breasts. Good Lord, but that would have been very, very bad.
Still clutching the last of her coin, Charlotte slipped down an alley, mind alert, looking for trouble lurking in the shadows. It was getting on to nightfall, and she wanted to be in her lodgings before the sun fully set, but first she wanted to buy a meat pie. Her last meat pie.
Her stomach grumbled so loud that the rats scurrying ahead of her surely heard it. Since coming to the rookery she’d experienced hunger such as she’d never known. Her aunt had certainly been a miser when it came to food, but Charlotte and her cousin, Edmund, had never trulystarved, even though she may have thought they were, at the time.
While watching for danger, Charlotte let her thoughts wander to the man who’d saved her life. He was maybe in his mid-twenties. Possibly thirty, but no older than that. With kind brown eyes and chestnut hair. At least from what she could tell from beneath his top hat. He had been dressed conservatively, in almost all black. She could tell by the cut of his clothes that he was prepared to spend some money on his attire but did not want to stand out.
He was probably a businessman—a very successful businessman.
He had smiled readily, and his eyes had held a look of concern. Not many were concerned with the plight of people like her.
People like her…
