Page 25 of My Kind of Scoundel
“Miss Darrow. Thank heavens you’re well.” Mr Franklin—a man of thirty with wavy brown hair and a countenance that left her clients drooling—had thrown his coat on in a hurry, for the collar was askew. “I saw two constables searching your premises early this morning and haven’t slept a wink.”
Since the shocking theft at the cobblers, Mr Franklin kept his nose pressed to the window most days, searching for the elusive culprit.
“They suspect a vagrant entered my shop, hunting for food.” She hated lying but could not confess to being attacked in her yard and hounded by a devious devil. Wielding spades and batons, the shopkeepers would charge down to the Puddle Dock, determined to make someone pay for the crime. “Based on the damage caused, the vagabond must have been ravenous.”
She introduced Mr Chance and the air turned frosty.
The men scrutinised each other with obvious suspicion.
“You’re the gentleman who was shot by that thug last month,” Mr Franklin said, eyeing her companion. “Being so close to the Thames, we get all sorts of riffraff wandering up from the barges and merchant ships.”
Mr Chance hardened his stare. “I was shot while protecting my sister. Indeed, I’m duty-bound to ensure Miss Darrow receives no further trouble.” He drew his calling card from his pocket and thrust it into Mr Franklin’s calloused hand. “Miss Darrow will reside with a friend until her affairs are in order. Should you notice anything untoward, do your civic duty and report it to me.”
Mr Franklin arched a brow as he read the elegant script. “You’re a gambling man,” he stated with a touch of disdain.
“I run a gaming club. Only a fool stakes his future on the dice.”
Mr Franklin clearly feared for Eleanor’s safety. He leaned forward, his brows furrowed in quiet concern. “If you’d like to remain in Holborn, we have a spare room. Anna would be glad of your company. You’ve been of great help to my sister. Her needlework is much improved.”
Eleanor smiled. “That is most kind, sir. Miss Franklin is an excellent student, but I hope to return home in a day or two. I have merely come to assess the damage.”
Mr Franklin looked a tad disappointed. “Well, the invitation stands if you change your mind.”
“I doubt she will,” Mr Chance said bluntly.
A tense silence ensued before the silversmith mentioned the vagrant. “I suppose the rascal ruined your silk. I saw Emily moving the bolts this morning. Well, I say this morning, but it was just before dawn. The poor girl was up with the larks.”
While Eleanor reeled from the surprising news, Mr Chance said, “Emily?”
“A seamstress I employ when work demands it.” She kept a calm tone though many questions danced in her mind. Emily had no reason to visit the shop, and certainly not at the crack of dawn. “Emily mentioned borrowing her father’s cart, hence the early hour.”
That was another lie.
But how else was she to gain information?
“Yes, she came with an older man I didn’t recognise.”
“I’m visiting Emily this evening to take an inventory of the stock she saved. I’m sure she will be relieved to learn business will resume soon.” She thanked Mr Franklin and bid him good day.
Mr Chance waited until the fellow crossed the road before offering his expert opinion on the minds of men. “Franklin wants you.”
She wasn’t being vain when she said, “I know.”
“I expect many women think he’s handsome.”
“I expect they do.” Her fingers shook as she unlocked thedoor. A fear of what she might find was the cause, though Mr Chance presumed otherwise.
“Does Franklin always make you nervous?”
She might have fed him a tale as part of their game but could not risk paying a forfeit. “He doesn’t make me nervous. You’re the only man who raises my pulse.”
“I am?”
“Don’t sound so pleased. Most of the time I’m angry.”
The overhead bell tinkled as Eleanor entered the shop. The once welcoming melody had a sad ring to it now. Her gaze fell to the mess on the floor, her property scattered like the remnants of a shipwreck washed ashore. She doubted anything was salvageable.
“It grieves me to admit it, but I have made a dreadful mess of everything.” Tears welled. Misfortune had plagued her since birth. This shop was her mother’s dream, her father’s legacy. Disappointed, her parents must be turning in their graves. “I have felt powerless many times. None more so than now.”
