The Rogue's Wager (Sinful Brides #1)(66)

The child jerked away from his hand, and eyed Robert with thick suspicion in his jaded eyes. “Who is the Marquess of Westfield?”

“He is,” Helena said softly, and the boy jerked his angry gaze to her.

“It is your choice,” Robert said, motioning to the coin in his scarred hands. Helena’s hands. Nausea roiled in his belly. What suffering had she known . . . ?

“It’s fair work?” the child demanded. “Ye ain’t one of those fancy lords lookin’ te bugger a boy?”

His gut clenched. Is this the hell endured by children on the streets? Never more did he feel the sting of deserved shame greater than this moment.

Helena spoke in affirmative tones. “His Lordship is not one of those lords.”

“Wot do ye know of it?”

Yes, what did she know of it? Robert fisted his hands, hating a world in which Helena knew the extent of ugliness that existed.

The proud young woman fell to a knee, and said something close to the boy’s ear. His eyes went wide in his dirt-stained face, and then slowly, he took the card.

The other man gone, Robert turned his attention back to a pale Helena. Since the moment he’d stumbled into her hallway at the club, the lady had always met his eyes with a bold, unwavering strength. Until now. Now she looked up at the sky, the ground. “Miss Banbury, you are incapable of doing anything without drama,” he said with forced levity. All the while the terror that had threatened his sanity the moment she’d stepped between the child and Whitby’s cane slowly receded. “Do you know,” he said, and shrinking the space between them, he spoke in a hushed whisper. “If you’d wished to see me this day, you needn’t have gone through all the difficulty. I would have gladly obliged.” He held his arm out.

Helena opened and closed her mouth several times, staring at his fingers as though she’d never before seen a hand. “Why did you do that?” she asked softly.

Annoyance stirred. Did she believe him to be one of those self-important bastards who’d simply ignore the plight of a child on the street? Then, would you have truly seen the world around you if it hadn’t been for her . . . ?

Robert leaned down, and put his mouth close to her ear. “Should I have called the constable on the boy for lifting that timepiece?”

She flared her eyes.

He captured her hand in his, raising her knuckle to his lips. “You are quite deft with your fingers, Helena,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over them.

Some of the tension left her narrow shoulders and she faintly smiled. “Thank you,” she said, “for helping me and the child.”

He lifted his lips in a cynical smile. “There is no thanks necessary.” Was her opinion of him so low that she believed he’d have ever stood, a silent observer to the plight of a defenseless woman and child? “Despite what you may believe, madam, I am not a monster.”

There was a stricken look in her eyes. “I do not believe you are a monster.” And he’d wager his future ducal title that that was the closest Helena Banbury had ever managed in terms of a compliment for any man. She gave a wave of her hand. “But you did not just help the boy.”

“James,” he amended.

“You did not just help James.” She paused and looked up. “You offered him employment.”

“I did.” They continued to make their way through the streets, onward to Ye Olde Bookshop.

“Why send him in a hired hack with a purse?” Far greater wariness than any young woman her age should possess filled her tone.

“I expect if the boy truly wishes to begin a new life of honorable employment, he will think on it, and ultimately take the steps. I’ve merely given him the means to do so,” he said, keeping his gaze ahead. “The decision is his.”

As they continued down the street, silence fell between them. When it became apparent Helena had little intention of speaking to the very obvious question, he said, “Well?”

A puzzled expression marring her sharp features, she looked up at him.

“Do you truly think I’ll not wonder about the coincidence in meeting you here this morning, madam?”

Her cheeks pinkened as they stopped before the shop where he’d left Beatrice and her maid. Then her eyes flew to the sign dangling above their heads. “The bookshop,” she blurted. “I was here for . . . a book.” She narrowed her eyes into thin slits. “And what are you doing here, my lord?”

Ah, so he was “my lord” again, was he?

Robert reached past her and pressed the door handle. “I was escorting my sister here.” He paused. “And then seeing to business with my man-of-affairs.” A flash of understanding brightened her eyes, which she quickly concealed. He motioned her inside. “After you, Miss Banbury.” She’d had as much intention of visiting this bookshop than he had of attending Almack’s that night. His suspicion roiled all the more.

She cocked her head, and looked at the open doorway to Robert, and then wetting her lips, she stepped inside.

“There you are, Robert.” His sister, a book in hand, came skidding to a stop before them. Surprise marred her face. “Miss Banbury! Hello,” she said with a widening smile.

Helena sank into a curtsy. “My lady.”

Beatrice tucked the small leather volume under her arm, and held out her opposite hand for Helena’s. “Oh, please, you must call me Beatrice. Would you care to join me?” Before Helena could formulate a reply, his sister gathered her hand and placed it on her arm, leading them away.