Page 18 of The Spy Who Loved Her
“I’ll see you out,” she said, rising.
Dannyboy slanted her a look too severe for a child of his tender years. “I ain’t gonna pinch the silver,” he said. “Got a jobnow.”
“I didn’t imagine you were,” she said as they exited the green salon. “I want to introduce you to my butler properly, so that he knows to admit you if you’re sent back to me. Ah, and here he is.” Neil had been waiting at the intersection of two corridors, still some distance from the door. “Neil, this is Dannyboy,” Emma said, with a small gesture to the child. “He’s to be brought to me at once should he come to call.”
“Of course, my lady,” Neil said. “Shall I see him out?”
“I believe he’s capable of finding his own way. He’s already assured me he’s no thief.” From the doubtful expression that Neil turned upon her, she guessed that he would very much have liked to make certain of that himself. But instead he bowed to her greater wisdom—and to Dannyboy, who scowled at him in return.
Neil heaved a sigh as the boy departed to head in the general direction of the front door. His mouth opened—closed—opened—and closed once more, with a fitful sort of snort.
“He wouldn’t have stayed,” Emma said softly. “If I had asked, I mean to say.” But she hadn’t hadto ask to know it. “He’s got a mother at home, and another sibling on the way. He’s saving his wages to purchase a cradle. He wouldn’t have stayed, Neil.”
And he knew just as well as she that there was simply no way to makethem stay, not if they were proper determined to leave. She hadn’t any right to him, and he wasn’t desperate enough to make the choice for himself.
“I had Cook send extra biscuits,” he said, in a shame-inflected voice. “He looks as though he hasn’t had a decent meal in some time.”
“That was good of you.” But then, Neil had once been in circumstances even direr. Probably he well remembered the days when his own stomach had stuck to his spine and had spared a bit of pity for a little boy who could so easily fall into the same. “Probably he’ll be back. If he is, we shall make certain he doesn’t leave without a decent meal, hm?” Sometimes it was all they could do. She cleared her throat. “Incidentally, I’ll be expecting a caller on Monday at midnight. You need not wait up to receive him on my behalf.”
His gaze swiveled toward her, brows creeping toward his hairline. “The same gentleman as—forgive me. I’ve overstepped.”
For a normal butler, of a certainty. But he’d always been a little more—and a little less—than that. “I don’t mind,” she said. “Yes; the same gentleman.” Her secrets were safe with Neil. They always had been.
“He sent Dannyboy to you.”
“Yes. To determine whether or not he might be in need of a proper home.” And he likely was—but it was not within her power to make that determination for him. Nor for his mother.
Neil drew a short, sharp breath, lifting one hand to rub at his forehead. “I knew I had recognized him,” he said, in a slow, wondering tone. “It’s eaten at me these last days.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The gentleman,” Neil said. “I’d seen him somewhere before. I was certain of it. But I couldn’t quite place him. Not until Dannyboy, there.”
“Whatever do you mean?” A frown creased Emma’s brow.
“He was there that night, my lady. The one your brother brought me to you. In fact—in fact, it was at his insistence.”
∞∞∞
Rafe tossed a half-crown coin to Dannyboy, who caught it eagerly in his grubby fist. The note had come out of the boy’s pocket along with a thick layer of crumbs, which had showered out upon the floor of his study the moment Rafe had opened it.
Dannyboy has got a family that suits him well enough at present, though I thank you for sending him to me regardless.
I shall leave the terrace door unlocked.
—Emma
Unwise in the extreme, under the circumstances, to be going around leaving doors unsecured. But he had no way of communicating that to her in a manner that would not instantly arouse suspicion.
He’d just have to arrive promptly and hope for the best.
“Got anything else fer me today, guv?” Dannyboy inquired, shifting on his feet as he licked a sprinkle of crumbs off of his palm.
“Not at present,” Rafe said. “The woman I sent you to—do you know what she does?”
“’Course,” the boy said. “All o’ London knows about ‘er, I reckon. Is she simple-minded?”
“In fact, I do not.” Rafe settled into his chair, leaning back. “She runs a home for children in need,” he said, just in the event that Dannyboy’s understanding of Emma’s home was somewhat lacking. “If you asked her, Dannyboy, she’d let you stay.”
