His other brow shot up. “Who’s the unlucky bloke?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“I assume you declined to do her bidding.”
“You assume correctly.”
“Were you bothered that she had little doubt you could carry out her request?”
He was bothered by the fact that she thought he would carry it out. With no explanation, no justification as though he was a man accustomed to washing blood off his hands. But he wasn’t going to confess all that to Jack so he held his silence.
Jack slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t be troubled, my friend. They’re no better than we are; the only difference is we know it, recognize our faults, and readily admit to having them.”
“I’m supposed to be one of them, Jack.” But he’d never felt comfortable around them, never felt as though he belonged.
“But we both know you’re not.”
Jack was the only one who knew the truth of Luke’s deceptions, knew he’d pretended to recall what the old gent wanted him to.
“No, I’m not.”
“Don’t know why you feel so damned guilty about it.”
“I grew fond of the old gent. It didn’t seem quite right to deceive him.”
The old gent had loved Luke because he’d thought Luke was his grandson. It was one thing to fool someone into giving him a coin so his stomach wouldn’t ache when he went to sleep that night. It wasn’t quite as easy to swallow the notion that he had tricked someone into giving him his heart.
“You made him happy, Luke. It’s not often that we’re able to do something that causes a person to die as the old gent did, content and satisfied, knowing that his kingdom was safe in your hands—and believing that in your hands it rightfully belonged. Draw some comfort in that.”
He tried. He really did. “I’m taking Frannie out for a while.”
Jack grinned cockily, but then everything about him was cocky and self-assured. He’d even swaggered when they were in prison, as though it were all a grand joke, when Luke had never been more terrified in his entire life.
“Finally going to do it, huh?” Jack asked.
“I think you’ve made enough money off me.”
“I’ll never have enough, but you’re right. I’m tired of collecting on this wager. It’s grown boring. Go make her—and yourself—happy.”
That was Luke’s plan as he strode through the establishment, briefly acknowledging those of his acquaintance, until he made his way to the back where he knew he’d find Frannie. She did her good works during the daylight hours, but at night she saw to Jack’s books. She was sitting at the desk, with her hair pinned up in a no-nonsense type of bun.
She wore her usual non-enticing clothing and yet he was enticed, as always.
“Good evening, Frannie.”
She glanced up, without being startled this time. He’d no doubt caught her before she’d immersed herself fully in the numbers.
“I expected you to come by sooner for an accounting of how I spent your donation.”
“I was occupied with other business. Besides, I told you that you didn’t owe me an accounting. I was wondering, however, if you might be willing to take a ride with me in the coach.”
“Whatever for?”
“I just thought it would be nice to get away from Jack’s books for a while. There’s no fog yet and London at night can be quite breathtaking. I’d like to share it with you.”
“You sound so mysterious.”
“We’ve not had much time together of late, and I always enjoy your company, as you well know.”
