Max nodded. “I’m tired of the company we keep. The things we have to do to protect our country. The filth we must roll in. There must be a better life out there, and I want to start living it.”
Summerset narrowed his eyes. “Do you remember what you told me when our government first asked for our help? Years ago, when we’d just returned from the East?”
Max pursed his lips, wracking his brain. He was sure he’d said many things.
“You told me the indolent lives the gentry lead disgusted you. How barren and useless they seemed.” Summerset crossed his arms. “You said you couldn’t wait to work with the government, that you could start fresh and finally start living. Sound familiar?”
“What’s your point?” So being a spy hadn’t turned out the way he’d thought it would. Dealing with the dregs of society had a tendency to make a person reevaluate his life.
“My point,” Summerset said, stepping close, “is that you’re never quite happy with where you are. You always think there’s some utopia lurking just out of reach. Something better. Cleaner. And you’re always disappointed.”
“You don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.”
Summerset shrugged, the gesture careless but his eyes serious. “If you say so. But for a man who is always so perceptive when it comes to reading others, you can be quite the lackwit when it comes to understanding yourself.”
Chapter Three
“Poor Mary still hasn’t been able to shake her cough, and we were hoping to send for a leech. And the smithy said he’d take Jonny on as an apprentice, but that will cost ten bob a month.” Robby Polcock, Colleen’s cousin on her mother’s side, rubbed his rotund stomach and belched. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued naming his expenses to provide for his family. The list was interminable. And manipulative.
Colleen closed her eyes. He had been kind enough to take her in when her husband and home had been taken in the fire. It was only fair for him to expect some recompense for feeding and clothing her.
But did he have to be so sly about it? Each week she had taken her earnings to Robby, trying to repay all that he’d spent on her. There was still twenty quid of rent—and she nearly snorted at the idea of charging rent for sharing a bed with two little girls—that remained of her debt. Once she had her three-month premium, she would be able to pay it off. With plenty left to spare.
“And did I tell you that Julia—”
“Yes. You did tell me about your wife.” Colleen had to interrupt. She couldn’t take the litany of woe any longer. “I’m sorry to hear your situation hasn’t improved.” She pulled a small bundle of coin from her reticule and pressed it into her cousin’s hand. “I hope this will help. Soon I’ll be able to pay you everything that I owe.”
“Well,” he said, hefting the bag and giving her a hard smile, “that’s what family is for, isn’t it? To help each other when times are tough. Just think, if I hadn’t been there to give you a roof over your head, buy you a whole new wardrobe, put food in your belly, just think where you’d be.” He narrowed his eyes. “Just think of it.”
Colleen swallowed. She didn’t want to think of it. London was a city of extremes. The nobs lived in their mansions with their ladies’ maids and gold-encrusted carriages while the poorest of the poor rested their heads in the mud, hoping to beg or steal enough to put a little food in their bellies. She had been fortunate enough to land somewhere in the middle. The day after the fire, she’d stood looking at the burned-out shell of her old home, and tentacles of panic had wrapped around her throat. She’d known how close she was to becoming one of the unfortunates. Living, and most likely dying, on the streets, with no one to even mourn her passing.
She would have deserved nothing less.
“You know I can never thank you enough, Cousin.” She took a deep breath. “And as I said, I hope to repay all your kindnesses very soon.”
He shrugged. “The money means little to me, as you know. I’m only glad you’ve landed on your feet. Where did you say this club was that you worked?”
Colleen hadn’t said, and never would. If Robby ever snuck his head through the door, Colleen would have to pick his jaw off the floor. His shock and disgust would be unbearable. Another possibility reared its ugly head, and a legion of ants skittered down her spine. She could imagine another reaction laying below his outrage and Colleen had no desire to see her cousin in one of the rooms of The Black Rose.
Her stomach settled. He’d never be able to afford it.
“Speaking of the club, I must be getting back to work.” She jumped to her feet. “It was lovely seeing you again, and I’ll be back next week with the rest of your money.”
Robby stood. “I look forward to it.”
Colleen shouted a goodbye to the rest of the family and scuttled from the house. The cold air slapped her face, and she inhaled deeply. Although a fire had been burning in the hearth, her cousin’s house held no warmth. Her tidy room at The Black Rose, although in a house of sin, was a safe haven she relished. But it wasn’t her own. It was controlled by someone else, someone who could kick her out on a whim.
She fingered the chain to her pocket watch and sighed. No, that was inaccurate. The Baron of Sutton wasn’t the sort of man who would leave a widow without a home. He would always find work for her, try to ensure she was provided for. Even though he could be demanding and insupportable, he was also an unusually kind man with enough blunt to be generous.
Still, she longed for independence. Why rely on another’s generosity when she could provide for herself? She had a mind for numbers and solid business sense; at least, Lord Sutton told her that often. She had to admit it was partially his belief in her, his flattery, that had induced her to accept the position at the bawdy house.
And in a week, she’d be leaving it. Would she ever see the baron again? She pushed that thought away and focused on her anticipated independence.
She turned and headed for the street a couple miles away where she hoped to attain that independence. The bottom of her feet ached from walking in her thinly-soled boots, but she hurried on. She strode into a small side street, the crowded buildings blocking the afternoon sun. Wrapping her coat more tightly about her, she followed her nose to the flower shop near the corner.
An old man looked up from the high table he sat behind, tying bunches of flowers together with string. He smiled pleasantly. “Yes. What can I do you for?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Ridley. It’s me.”
