Page 5 of A Little Bit Dangerous
Not because he gave a damn about his reprobate father but because it marked the day his life changed course. The day an eleven-year-old was forced to stop snivelling and become a man.
“I was sent to Bramling Seminary in the April.”
“But you returned home for the holidays.”
The lady touched her abdomen as if she had an ache she couldn’t ease. “You’re mistaken, Mr Chance. I’ve not seen my father for sixteen years. This is my first trip to London since then.”
Christian stood statue still. The information did not fit the narrative he’d told himself all these years. The story he had repeated many times put Isabella Lawton at her bedchamber window, watching as her father and his lackeys bundled four helpless boys into a cart.
He scrubbed his hand down his face. It was too early in the morning to deal with a range of conflicting emotions. It was too painful to revisit the past.
“Then I shall spare you the details,” he said bluntly. “With your father’s help, my stepmother threw us out. We spent a month on the streets before Aaron found us lodgings.”
Miss Lawton’s large brown eyes widened. “You were homeless? But what about your inheritance?” She swallowed hard. “How did you survive? How—”
Christian raised a hand to silence her. “Enough. The rest is history.” Though he still wanted to scrub his skin red raw every time he bathed. “Now you understand the reason for my vehemence.”
“Indeed.” She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and for a moment he glimpsed the girl he once knew. “My father is the spawn of Satan. Please do not think my ambitions are in any way aligned with his.”
“Doubtless when he discovers you’re examining Egyptian artefacts with me, he’ll prevent you from returning here tomorrow.” To Lawton, women were good for one thing. So why had he given his daughter permission to visit the museum? Or was that why they were working in a dim basement at dawn?
Her prolonged silence sent a shudder of unease through him. If Lawton could throw an earl’s grandsons onto the streets, what would he do to the daughter encroaching on a man’s world?
“Does your father know you’re here?” he reiterated. Worse still, did he know she would be working alongside a man he considered his enemy?
Miss Lawton swallowed excessively. “No, Mr Chance. My father has no idea where I am.” Her snort of amusement carried more than a tinge of fear. “I have no idea whereheis and daren’t ask the neighbours.”
Lawton was missing?
Christian’s pulse rose a notch. Had Aaron buried the beast in a shallow grave? Had he kept the secret to himself to avoid incriminating his kin? Was that why Christian could not shake the feeling of impending doom?
ChapterTwo
“To be more precise, sir, my father thinks I’m at my mother’s villa in Positano.” Isabella closed her eyes against a wave of nausea. Despite spending a lifetime fleeing one nightmare after another, the last two months had been a living hell. “I journeyed to London five weeks ago, shortly after my mother’s funeral.”
The Conte di Barasian had given her an ultimatum.
Leave his house or become his mistress.
Aware she was without funds, the conte had presumed she would accept his scandalous offer. But having watched the drunken fights and seen her mother’s desperation to keep a man who mistreated her, Isabella would rather die in the workhouse than succumb to the same fate.
“My condolences for your loss.” Mr Chance’s voice quivered as he expressed his sympathy. Perhaps his thoughts had turned to his own tragic past. When he was five, his mother died from a mere tumble down the stairs.
“It was more an inconvenience,” she admitted, not to make him feel better. Sofia Bianchi was as cruel and as self-absorbed as Geoffrey Lawton. “I rarely saw her during the years I lived there. She encouraged me to keep to my room until she grew so sick she needed a nursemaid.”
Give me the wine, Isabella.
But your hand is shaking, mamma.
Stupid girl. Look! You have spilt some on my bedsheets.
“You’re staying in Hill Street?” Mr Chance said as if it were the last inn on the road to Hades. While his tone lacked vehemence, the air between them crackled with hostility.
Before she could answer, Mr Daventry returned with the curator. The latter pushed a wooden trolley while Mr Daventry held the door open then removed the white sheets to reveal two rare artefacts.
On the top tier was a stone tablet.
On the bottom stood a small figurine.
