White teeth flashed in his dark beard. “That’s more like it.” He stood and retrieved her hat. “How about you call it a day? I’ll stay a bit longer and manage anything else that comes along.”
Though it felt like defeat, even so, she nodded. “I suppose Martha wouldn’t mind if I stopped by earlier.”
“No, she wouldn’t. Now off with you.” He handed over her bonnet.
Kit fumbled with pinning her hat in place, then arched a brow at her father. “But you will let me know if we have a potential client?”
“I’ll send a note should that happen.” He slapped his hand to his heart. “I vow it.”
“Drama? From you?”
“I learned from the best.” He bopped her nose.
“You are as incorrigible as Jackson. Good day, Father.” Rising to her toes, she buffed a kiss on his cheek, his whiskers tickling her mouth.
“Until tomorrow.” He steered her out.
Midday in Blackfriars was a bubbling cauldron of life. Skippers, hawkers, beggars, and even the occasional smartly buttoned gent filled the streets. For some, such bustle annoyed. Not Kit. She welcomed the chaos with open arms. She belonged here in this throng of humanity, and thankfully Jackson had agreed…though their town house was several neighbourhoods over in a more civilized part of the city.
After only a five-minute stroll, she swung into a narrow back lane and pushed open the rear door to the soup kitchen. Standing at a stove, a willowy woman in an apron two sizes too large stirred a huge pot of deliciousness. The aroma of rich beef broth filled the air. Three pairs of eyes glanced up from peeling potatoes and chopping greens.
“Miss Kit!” the three girls said in unison.
Kit grinned. It was always a treat to be greeted with such enthusiasm. “Afternoon, girls, Martha.”
Her friend turned from the stove, her blue eyes darkening with concern. “Yer back early. Everything a’right?”
It was for her, but not for poor Mrs. Coleman. Better, though, to leave that sorry business in the hands of God. She gained her friend’s side and leaned over the pot, breathing in the meaty scent of the hearty stew. “Just a slow day, being the first one and all. Besides, better to catch you before the dinner hour.” She waggled her eyebrows at Martha. “And before Inspector Baggett stops by, eh?”
“Flit.” Martha’s lips pursed. “What would ye know about that?”
“I’m not blind, my friend. He’s sweet on you—and you’re sweet on him.”
“Don’t be daft.” Martha waved her spoon in the air, droplets of broth flying out in a spray. “He stops by for a meal, that’s all. And who’s to blame him, what with being a bachelor. My soup is better than a cold crust o’ bread, can’t anyone quarrel about that.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. Your soup is divine. But it’s more than a belly filling the handsome inspector is after, for he could as easily take his meals at his boardinghouse.” She elbowed the woman.
“Off with ye.” Martha gave her a playful shove to the arm. “Who’d want a worn-out woman with seven mouths to feed besides?”
“Charles Baggett would, that’s who.”
Behind her, the three girls giggled.
“Hope all ye like, all of ye.” She eyed her daughters then narrowed her gaze on Kit. “But hoping won’t make it so. Now then, would ye like to collect a certain little bundle o’ love?”
Kit grinned. “I’d like nothing better.”
Leaving behind the heat of the kitchen, Kit strolled into the public room, quiet save for the soft breaths coming from a bundle of blankets in a makeshift crib. Kit leaned over the railing, heart swelling as she gazed at the dark-haired cherub sleeping sweetly. “Come to Mama, sweetums.”
Bella’s eyes popped open as Kit lifted her. “Ba-ba!”
“Mama,” Kit corrected her. Everyone and everything was ba-ba to Bella, and yet Kit would have the girl’s first word bemamadespite Jackson’s efforts to get her to saypapa.She nuzzled her face against her little girl’s neck, breathing in the warm-milk scent.
Bella cooed.
“That’s my darling,” Kit murmured.
And that’s when it hit, right in the gut. If anyone—even Jackson—tried to pull this child from her arms, she’d fight to the death to get her back…just as Mrs. Coleman was trying to do. Frowning, she squeezed Bella tighter. Mrs. Coleman deserved to hold her own child.
