Page 51 of My Kind of Scoundel
“For robbing you of that smile. For stealing the light from your eyes. For those wasted hours when you lay awake hating me.”
Miss Darrow stared at him, an intense look that seemed to penetrate his soul. “I could never hate you.”
She had every reason to despise him.
Her noble spirit had him gawping in awe.
“I was rude to you.”
“At the theatre?”
“No. The day I found Delphine in the yard with Dorian. The day you lied to me.” He was the fool they’d deceived so easily. “I wasn’t angry with you. I was angry with myself for being blind. For failing my family.”
She touched his arm, sending an unknown force charging through his veins. A sudden need to feel close to her.
“You did nothing wrong. Delphine was determined to keep the meeting a secret. You were honourable throughout.” Her fingers firmed around his forearm. “The kind way you spoke to her, the concessions you made, never have I respected a man more than I did in that moment.”
The compliment touched him deeply. “Then I ruined everything by stealing your box.”
“You ruined nothing. Are we not good friends now?”
They were more than friends.
It was only a matter of time before they were lovers.
“Are you deaf?” The maid beside him nudged his arm. “Three times he’s asked you to step forward and place yourorder. Can’t you see there’s a queue? I ain’t got time to waste.”
The crowd grumbled in agreement.
Theo grinned, their annoyance playing into his hands.
He approached the counter and addressed the man with a beer barrel for a belly. “I’ll take the largest plum pie in the cabinet.” He presented the Home Secretary’s letter. “You have been named as a witness in an official investigation. You’re required to close the shop so we can speak privately.”
“Did you hear that?” a customer cried. “He’s closing the shop.”
Like a run on the bank, the crowd pushed forward, waving their hands and shouting their orders. Amid the cacophony, the baker raised the wooden countertop and beckoned Theo and Miss Darrow forward.
“We’re not closing,” the baker reassured his patrons, gesturing to the woman in a white pinny. “Gertrude will serve you. Form an orderly queue.” Then he turned and ushered them through a door at the back.
Two women were busy rolling pastry on a long oak table in the large kitchen. The heat hit Theo the second he entered. The poor boy stoking the ovens had a face as red as a berry.
“What’s this about?” The baker stood with his folded arms resting on his paunch. “What am I supposed to have witnessed?”
“A barrow boy brought a letter here some months ago,” Miss Darrow said. “It was a small letter, an inch square. It was so tiny it would be memorable. We need to know if the recipient works here or if someone came to collect the note. It was sealed with green wax.”
The baker remembered the incident clearly. “Yes, the boyhanded me the note. I asked who it was for, and he said he didn’t know.”
“Did you open it?” Theo said, daring him to lie.
“Yes, the writing was so small that the wife had to use a magnifying glass.” He jerked his head to the buxom woman behind him. “It was the oddest thing.”
“But she read it?” Miss Darrow asked.
That’s when the baker winced in obvious discomfort. “It’s private business. Nothing that should concern anyone else.”
Theo showed the baker the letter again. “You don’t need a hand lens to see the official seal. You’ll answer our questions here or at Bow Street.”
After exchanging odd expressions with his wife, the baker confessed. “It said I was to appeal to Thatcher’s & Sons solicitors in Fetter Lane, and a certain debt would be settled in full.”
