Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane #1)(6)

“Why do you need a guide?”

Ah, this was where it got tricky. “I’m searching for… a certain person in St. Giles. I would like to interview some of the inhabitants, but I find my search confounded by my ignorance of the area and the people and by their reluctance to talk to me. Hence, a guide.”

Her eyes had narrowed as she listened, her fingers tapping against the teacup. “Whom do you search for?”

He shook his head slowly. “Not unless you agree to be my guide.”

“And that is all you want? A guide? Nothing else?”

He nodded, watching her.

She turned to look into the fire as if consulting it. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the snap of a piece of coal falling. He waited patiently, caressing the silver head of his cane.

Then she faced him fully. “You’re right. Your money does not tempt me. It’s a stopgap measure that would only delay our eventual eviction.”

He cocked his head, watching as she carefully licked those lush lips, preparing her argument, no doubt. He felt the beat of the pulse beneath his skin, his body’s response to her feminine vitality. “What do you want, then, Mrs. Dews?”

She met his gaze levelly, almost in challenge. “I want you to introduce me to the wealthy and titled people of London. I want you to help me find a new patron for our foundling home.”

Lazarus kept his mouth firmly straight, but he felt a surge of triumph as the prim widow ran headlong into his talons.

“Done.”

Chapter Two

Now, King Lockedheart was a very proud man. For though he had been born to a small and insignificant kingdom, he had, through courage, guile, and daring, defeated the surrounding larger countries until he controlled a vast and powerful kingdom. To the north were mountains rich in minerals and sparkling gems. To the east, fields of golden grains and fat cattle. To the south lay tall hardwood forests. And to the west was an ocean overflowing with silver fish. A man could start from the capital city and walk a month in any direction and not leave the lands belonging to King Lockedheart….

—from King Lockedheart

Temperance caught her breath, feeling suddenly as if the jaws of a trap had slammed shut around her. She didn’t let her gaze waver, however. Lord Caire struck her as something of a predator, and it wouldn’t do to show fear in his presence. Instead, she leaned forward and gently poured herself another dish of tea. She noted with some pride that her hands were steady.

When she’d taken a sip, she looked at him, this exotic creature lounging in her drab little sitting room, and squared her shoulders. “Let us discuss the particulars of our arrangement, my lord.”

His wide, sensuous lips quirked as if he found her amusing. “Such as, Mrs. Dews?”

She swallowed. Naturally, she’d never made a pact such as this in her life, but she did bargain regularly with the butcher and the fishmonger and the various tradespeople one dealt with when running a foundling home. And she fancied she was not such a bad bargainer.

Temperance set down her teacup. “I’ll need money for living expenses.”

“Living expenses?” His black eyebrows arched up his forehead.

She felt a bit brash asking for money when they’d already settled on his introducing her to potential patrons as his part of the bargain. But the truth was that the home needed the money. Desperately.

“Yes,” she said, lifting her chin. “As you yourself noted, our rent is in arrears. In addition, the children haven’t had a proper meal in days. I need money to buy some beef, vegetables, bread, tea, and milk. Not to mention both Joseph Tinbox and Joseph Smith need new shoes—”

“Joseph Tinbox?”

“And most of the younger Marys need new chemises,” Temperance finished in a defiant rush.

For a moment, Lord Caire merely watched her with those mysterious sapphire eyes. Then he stirred. “Exactly how many children do you house in this home?”

“Seven and twenty,” Temperance said promptly, then remembered tonight’s work. “I beg your pardon. Eight and twenty with the addition of Mary Hope—the babe I brought home tonight. We also have two infants who are under the care of wet nurses at the moment outside the home. When they are weaned, they’ll come to live here as well. And, of course, I live here with my brother, Winter, and our maidservant, Nell Jones.”

“Only three adults for so many children?”

“Yes.” Temperance leaned forward in her eagerness. “You see why we need a patron? If we had proper funding, we could hire another nursemaid or two and perhaps a cook and a manservant. We could serve meat at both luncheon and dinner, and all the boys could wear decent shoes. We could pay a good apprenticeship fee and outfit each child in new clothes and shoes when they leave the home. They’d be so much better prepared to face the world.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I can well afford to maintain your home if you wish to renegotiate my part of this bargain.”

Temperance pursed her lips. She didn’t know this man. How could she be certain that he’d take the position of patron responsibly? Or that he wouldn’t abandon them after only a month or two?

And, of course, there was an even more important consideration. “The home’s patron must be respectable.”

“Ah. I see.” She expected him to be insulted, but he merely gave her an ironic half smile. “Very well. I’ll stand you the monies needed to pay your home’s rent as well as enough for the various expenses the children have. In return, however, I will expect you to be ready to lead me into St. Giles tomorrow night.”