Page 14 of Barely a Woman
“Potential? For… for what?”
Steadman began to answer but stopped himself. The conversation trended too perilously toward friendship. He waved a dismissive hand. “It matters not. Mostly I pity you. For your sake, I will stoop to mentoring you. And perhaps we should begin with that ridiculous suit.”
Morgan’s face clouded and he pulled his coat tighter across his chest.
“But not at this moment,” Steadman added. “A meal, and then miles to go after all.”
The conversation lapsed and remained sparse even after steaming bowls of shepherd’s pie appeared. Though the food was as good as he remembered, his stomach had turned mildly sour. He wondered why. It was Morgan who forged a path into the silence.
“The fare is excellent. You have come here often, it seems.”
Steadman nodded while dabbing the corner of his mouth. “Yes. Owing to the secluded location, it proved a good stophole abbey.”
“A what?”
“Stophole abbey. A rallying place. After a, er, job… my associates and I would separate and then gather later at a preassigned location. At a stophole abbey. Lucy loved this place the one time I brought her along.”
“Lucy,” Morgan repeated. He peered at Steadman through hooded eyes. “A… lover?”
Steadman emitted an uncharacteristic guffaw. “A lover? Oh, heavens no. Young Lucy was my ward for eleven years.”
Weirdly, a wave of relief swept over Morgan’s face before recognition dawned. “The rumor of a duke’s granddaughter?”
“True.”
“And is she still with you?”
“Thankfully not, for her sake. She turned one-and-twenty just a week ago and married an earl’s son.”
Morgan’s eyes remained wide with surprise. “You run in high company, then.”
“No. Low company, earls included. Although Lucy and her new husband are fine exceptions to the rule.”
Morgan pushed aside an empty bowl and leaned his elbows on the table, apparently captivated. “How did Lucy become your ward?”
He considered telling Morgan the tale but dismissed the notion. The lad had not yet earned sufficient trust for that. “A long story that must wait for another time.”
His partner leaned back with disappointment. “But you love her?”
“Categorically.”Thathe could say with certainty. “She is more like a daughter. She is the reason for my reform.”
Morgan’s interest rose again. “Might I ask?”
“Let’s just say that when it came time to choose between my goals and Lucy’s safety, I chose the latter without a second thought.”
“And this disappoints you?”
“Never. I am true to those I love, of whom there have been precious few.”
Morgan’s demeanor shifted toward approval. “And your decision led you to working for the Bow Street magistrate?”
Steadman chuckled over the naïve question. “Not exactly. It was this or dangle from the end of a rope. Fortunately, the Crown frowns on hanging gentlemen and presented me the option. I took it, of course. Though it galls me that those in power will throw away a hundred poor men without a care but move heaven and earth to preserve one of their own. Despite my many crimes, I still breathe because of an accident of birth while the man born in poverty dies for stealing a crust of bread. How is that justice?”
“It is not.” The sorrow on Morgan’s features revealed how deeply the boy meant what he said. “So, do you regret your position at Bow Street?”
Steadman felt his frown deepen. No one had asked him that question before. His instinctual answer surprised him. “No, I do not regret it. I admire the integrity of the organization, of how the Fielding brothers founded it to help those who could seek justice by no other means. It serves my purposes and aligns with my aims.”
He withheld the rest—the deeper reasons for his association with Bow Street. How it allowed him to continue his war of vengeance against those who wielded heartless authority, but with the law now on his side. Silence fell as he pondered the conversation. Only then did he realize how much he haddivulged to Morgan, a virtual stranger. He’d not even admitted some of these things to Lucy, and she was family. Rather than regretting his admissions, he surrendered to a wave of contentment. He felt lighter, as if a burden had been lifted. Thanks to the young man across the table. An absurd notion seized him—to do something kind for Morgan. He lifted his blank stare to lock gazes with the lad.
