Every morning?Wasthisher “charity work”?
Maria gave a shaky smile, her cheeks growing increasingly pallid. “I do, indeed.”
“I knew Mr. Robertson as a child, you see,” Jasper explained to the man beside him. “I’m pleased to learn that he has found some success. How long would you say it has been since you’ve taken this position,Duncan?”
“Fancy you knowing a duke!” Mr. Shoemaker’s eyes bulged at Maria. “I’ve known you for eight-and-a-half years, and you never said a thing!”
Eight-and-a-half years!
Eyes flickering with trepidation, she gave a rigid smile. “Our friendship was in the past. I did not think that the update on my life was prudent.” She turned her attention back to Jasper. “What do you say we go for a drink at the pub to reflect on those pleasing times we had as children, Your Grace?”
“I rather think that we ought.” He tapped the surface of her desk with his index finger. “I’ll call on you this afternoon.”
With Maria’s murmur of agreement in his ears, he returned to Mr. Shoemaker’s desk to commission his announcement. The announcement of his and Maria’s betrothal.
Sodding hell. Never would he have fathomed that Maria had taken a job. And for eight bloody years! By working under a falsified name, she put not only herself at risk, but the newspaper as well, for hiring said fictional man. What was she thinking to do such a thing? Andwhy? What could possibly require her to worktwojobs?
His mind whirled with questions.
Duncan Robertson. Christ, but he’d read her bloody articles! She was a damned fine writer. But that wasn’t the point, blast it.
Maria works at the newspaper!The thought burst through his thoughts at regular intervals, entirely derailing his concentration as his meeting with Mr. Shoemaker progressed.
On more than one occasion, Maria’s lowered voice floated to him across the room as she conversed with others. And every time, the need to look her way clawed at him.Christ, but the beastly urge to simply sit andwatchher wearing those sodding breeches had his cods in a vice. But he wouldn’t.
His thoughts were a lust-filled haze as he concluded his discussion with Mr. Shoemaker. He stood, eager to see Maria asMr. Duncanonce more. And there she was, her hat in hand as she spoke quietly with the secretary.
Damn, but those legs.
Never would he have thought that a pair of men’s breeches would arouse him so, but there was no disputing that Maria wore them exceedingly well and his body most certainly enjoyed the sight.
He wanted to bid her farewell but suspected she would not appreciate further contact at her place of employment. Instead, he strode from the building.
And into a sudden dense fog. The street was still and quiet.
A chill swept up his spine, and his body trembled with a convulsive shiver.The London particular. Damn.A cough wracked his frame, and a grimace distorted his face as he caught the acerbic scent of sulphur and soot.
Jasper withdrew a handkerchief and pressed it over his mouth and nose, attempting to keep the dense, poisonous impurities from reaching his lungs—it was known as the ‘killer fog’ for a reason.
He blinked into the obscurity, unable to even see his sodding hand in front of his face, then turned. The door had disappeared behind the fog.
He could not let Maria travel home without some sort of protection—for Lord knew blackguards took advantage of the London fog—and according to Mr. Shoemaker, she ordinarily left at about this time. He very much doubted that she would let the fog slow her, but the nauseating twist to his stomach would not abate. Most particularly knowing Francis roamed free.
With an outstretched hand, Jasper felt along the damp brick wall, until the door reappeared.
The door abruptly opened, and a soft curse found its way to his ears.
Maria.
The breath in his lungs froze when he spotted her. He wanted to call out, to alert her to his presence, but his body wouldn’t respond to his commands.
Securing the hat upon her head, she put a handkerchief to her mouth and strode down the street, disappearing into obscurity.
Instinct moved him. Swirls of fog danced around them, whirling and chaotic, and entirely disorienting. The damp seeped beneath his coat, chilling him through to the skin. It was completely at odds with the weather a mere hour prior. Such was the London particular.
Maria hid the fact that she worked for the paper. Her family, while not particularly well-to-do, ought to be able to provide for all her needs. And yet she had taken not only the position with the paper but also at Bow Street, leading him to only one logical conclusion: Maria had additional expenses of which her family was unaware.
He would have time to inquire about those later; for the moment, he simply wished to see her reach her destination safely.
