Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane #2)(42)

“Good morning, Lady Hero.”

“Good morning,” she said briskly. “I’ve an appointment in St. Giles, and since you insist on accompanying me, I thought I’d save you the trouble of tracking down my carriage.”

“How thoughtful.” He slumped onto the carriage seat.

She frowned at him. “Have you had any sleep at all?”

“No, nor breakfast either.”

“Hmm.” She looked adorably disapproving. “Sleep, then.”

And he was so weary that he didn’t even ask what her mission was in St. Giles before laying his head on the squabs and losing consciousness so quickly he might as well have been knocked on the head.

He opened his eyes sometime later to see Lady Hero watching him. Her clear gray gaze was somehow intimate.

“Better?” she asked softly.

He didn’t move, enjoying simply looking back at her. “Much, thank you.”

She looked at him curiously. “For a self-proclaimed rake, you work harder than any gentleman I know.”

He cocked his head. Had anyone else said that, he’d think it a complaint—for an aristocrat to work was no compliment—but Lady Hero’s voice was musing. Did she actually approve of something about him?

He lifted a corner of his mouth. “Don’t tell the guild of rakes, will you?”

She laughed softly, and then opened a cloth on her lap. “I bought you a meat pie while you were sleeping.”

“You are an angel,” Griffin said gratefully. He took the pie—still warm—and bit into it, savoring the gravy on his tongue.

“Making money isn’t the only thing you’re good at,” she said quietly.

He arched his eyebrows, still chewing.

A faint flush crept up her elegant neck. “You make people laugh.”

He swallowed. “So do fools.”

She shook her head, gently admonishing. “You jest, but the ability to laugh is a wonderful thing. Phoebe had a lovely time the other night, largely because of you.”

“I didn’t do anything extraordinary.” He shook his head and took another bite.

“But you did.” She looked at him intently. “Phoebe is… is special and very dear to my heart. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you made her laugh that night. Thank you.”

His eyes narrowed as he remembered how Phoebe had lost sight of the little monkey on stage. “What did—” The carriage shuddered to a halt, distracting him before he could finish the thought. “Have you decided to inspect the construction again?”

“No.” She looked down at her hands. “We’ve stopped at the temporary foundling home. I wanted to show you something.”

“Indeed?” She wasn’t meeting his eyes, so he probably wasn’t going to like whatever she had in store for him. Still, he ate the last of the pastry and brushed off his hands. “After you.”

Perhaps his smile had a bit too much teeth. She glanced at him rather nervously before descending the carriage. Outside, the day was gray and a chill wind blew.

Griffin offered his arm. “Shall we?”

She laid her hand on his sleeve, and he was aware of her touch, light though it was. It was pleasant to be able to guide her down the lane leading to the temporary home. To act the proper gentleman to her lady.

They stopped at the door to the home, and he stepped forward and knocked.

There was no sound from within.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Do they expect you today?”

She cleared her throat, a fine pale pink blush climbing her throat. “I didn’t tell them I was coming.”

He didn’t have time to reply to this news before the door was pulled open. A young girl stood before them, an enormous apron pinned to her bodice.

“Good morning, Mary Whitsun,” Lady Hero said. “Is Mrs. Hollingbrook about?”

The girl curtsied. “Yes, my lady. Please come in.”

Griffin stepped over the sill and noticed immediately the bare boards of the hallway—they were warped. The girl led them into a small sitting room.

“I’ll fetch Mrs. Hollingbrook from the kitchen,” Mary Whitsun said, and hurried away.

Lady Hero didn’t sit and neither did Griffin. He circled the tiny room before halting in front of the fireplace. He tapped his fingers against the mantel and watched as crumbs of plaster fell to the hearth.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and then the door was pushed open. The young woman who stood there was very pretty, but flustered. Pale brown hair with streaks of light red and blond was bundled untidily under a cap, tendrils stuck to her flushed cheeks. A smudge of flour dotted her chin.

“Lady Hero, we weren’t expecting you,” she said in a breathless rush as she curtsied.

“No matter, Mrs. Hollingbrook.” Hero smiled calmly, which seemed to set the other woman’s nerves slightly at ease. “I’ve brought a friend, Lord Griffin Reading. He’s heard me speak of the home and became quite interested. I was wondering if you could show him some of the children?”

Mrs. Hollingbrook’s face brightened. “How do you do, my lord?” She bobbed a wobbly curtsy, rising eagerly. “I’ll be very happy to introduce you to some of our charges.”

Griffin smiled and bowed. “Thank you.”