Page 10 of The Secret Life of a Lady
Hannah smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Philippa. I’ll stay well out of his way. Trust me.’
Lieutenant General Killian’s sharp green gaze flashed in her memory, and heat flooded her cheeks. He wasn’t for her, but when she remembered the feeling of his weight upon her, his hard hands holding her still, something in her belly clenched and her skin tingled.
She reached up to feather her fingers over her first scar, ten years healed. Hannah’s soul was steeped in damnation for failing to protect her mother. But at least there would be justice for girls like Sarah Bright. Sacrificing the fantasy of love was a trade-off she could accept.
3
Of all the people Killian expected to see traipsing along the filthy streets of Bethnal Green, Miss Simmons was among the last. Yet there was no mistaking her proper posture, the gleam of her copper hair in the fading light, or her quick and purposeful stride.
‘What the devil are you up to?’ Killian murmured.
He kept a safe distance and stayed in the shadows. The anaemic sunlight was quickly admitting defeat to crowded brick buildings tumbling over each other in their quest to blot out the sky. Noxious sludge made a slow track down the centre of the dirt street. Three children sat on a stoop, huddled together and playing a game with five stones. Their clothes were stained and threadbare, and only the eldest boy had shoes. The smallest of them was a girl with wispy hair so blonde it looked silver in the waning light.
Killian knew he was throwing a thimble of water into the blazing fire of poverty, but he still fished in his pockets and gave each of the children a half-crown. The little girl broke into a gap-toothed grin, and his heart cracked. The older boy ran off, probably to alert his friends that a dozy toff was handing out money.Killian would be swarmed with urchins if he didn’t get a move on. Besides, he couldn’t dally if he intended to keep up with Miss Simmons’s blistering pace.
He had a sneaking suspicion he knew precisely where the prim little woman was heading. Sarah Bright’s parents lived in one of the many ramshackle buildings crowded along the narrow street. Killian would bet his favourite stallion Miss Simmons was on the same trail he followed. ‘Sneaky, infuriating woman. How did you get her family’s address?’ She was an enigma he couldn’t decipher. And if there was one thing Killian couldn’t resist, it was an unsolvable puzzle.
Wind whipped down the street, bringing the foul scent of rotten garbage and raw sewage. Soon the rain would pelt the ground in a summer storm, intensifying the noxious aromas and flooding the street with even more refuse.
Miss Simmons ducked down an alley, and Killian followed. The narrow passage opened into a cramped courtyard with several houses smashed together. Miss Simmons took stock of the doors, striding to the second stoop and knocking loudly. She turned around, almost spying Killian before he ducked behind a dilapidated, wooden structure. Based on the stench emanating from between the sagging planks, it must be the shared privy for everyone living in this small courtyard. Killian repressed a gag.
The state of London’s poor was deplorable. Killian was determined to focus his attention on revamping the New Poor Laws once he passed the Soldiers Relief Bill.
With Miss Simmons beating him to Sarah Bright’s family, Killian found himself at loose ends. He couldn’t very well follow her in. Mayhap he should leave and come back on a different day, but Killian didn’t feel comfortable abandoning Miss Simmons in this part of London. Bethnal Green wasn’t quite as dangerous as Whitechapel or St Giles, but the western end was notoriouslyrough. With darkness fast approaching, best for a man to keep his pistol primed and his sword close at hand.
Killian spent twenty awkward minutes watching the sky for rain and avoiding the suspicious stares of a large variety of cats patrolling the area. A rather hefty tabby was growing bolder by the moment and had gone so far as to swipe at Killian’s boot.
‘Oi, are you the cove who wus ’anding out ’alf-crowns?’ A boy of eight or nine with more dirt on his body than clothing stood in front of Killian. He had the hardened stare of a man in the cherubic face of a child.
‘It seems doubtful.’
‘Wot you doin’ standing by the privy? You barmy or summink?’
Killian frowned at the boy. ‘If I were a mad man, you would have to be rather brave or rather stupid to come and ask me for money. Which is it?’
‘Me mum and dad live ’ere. Me three younger sisters and baby brother. It’s my job to protect ’em, innit? Can’t have some loony nutter lurking round the shitter.’
‘So, it’s brave then?’
The boy shrugged and scratched his arm. ‘Well, an’ if you really were the cove givin’ away ’alf-crowns, I’d be a right idiot not to ask for my share. Oi, cat, piss off.’ The boy kicked a rock in the general direction of the tomcat, who hissed but sauntered away with his tail flicking behind him.
‘So, brave and smart, then?’
The boy assessed Killian with unblinking eyes too large for his small face. ‘Depends on you, don’t it?’
Killian laughed despite himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a guinea. ‘You don’t happen to know who lives in that house two doors down, on the left?’
The boy’s eyes widened at the gold coin. He turned andglanced down the shadowed street, then looked back at Killian and squinted. ‘Wot’s it to you?’
‘There’s a family there. They had a daughter named Sarah Bright.’
The boy’s mouth tightened, and his slight shoulders hitched up. Suspicion narrowed his gaze. ‘Why you askin’ ’bout Sarah?’
‘You knew her?’
The boy glanced at the guinea in Killian’s hand. He bit his lip, then frowned. ‘I’m not telling you anyfink unless you tell me why you want to know.’
‘Brave, smart, and honourable. You will make a fine gentleman one day.’
