“Here.” Conrad took out a packet of Mr. Khan’s sweets. “Medicine for that shiner.”
The boy peered into the bag. “That’s not medicine. That’s Mr. Khan’s barfi.”
“It’s medicine if it makes you feel better.”
While the boy ate one of the treats, Conrad picked up the crushed hat and handed it to him. “Unfortunately, this looks damaged beyond repair.”
“My mama can fix it. By the by, I’m Kenneth Sommers. You can call me Kenny.”
At the boy’s proper bow, Conrad stifled a smile.
“Conrad Godwin.” He returned the courtesy. “Now, Kenny, you’d best run along and have your mama take a look at your eye?—”
“How did you learn to fight like that, sir?” Kenny asked.
Years of being bullied just like you.
“I did some prizefighting in my day.”
“You were a prizefighter?” Kenny gazed at him as if he’d taken a stroll over a lake. “Could you teach me how to box?”
Conrad shook his head. “I haven’t got time, lad. I won’t be in the village long?—”
“It won’t take long. I’m a fast learner.”
“Ask your papa?—”
“My papa’s too busy for me. Mama says he has a long-standing appointment at the tavern.” Kenny’s bottom lip quivered, his good eye shimmering. “Just one lesson, please?”
Christ.
“I have to be somewhere?—”
“Tomorrow, then. Please, Mr. Godwin? I’ve saved up money from doing chores at Mama’s shop, and I’ll pay you.”
Seeing the boy’s desperation, Conrad couldn’t turn away.
What harm could it do to teach the sprat a few defensive maneuvers?
“One lesson.” He sighed. “And you don’t owe me anything.”
In his study at Honeystone Hall, Conrad was reading the latest report sent by Redgrave, his chief manager, when the butler alerted him to a visitor. At the mention of the man’s name, Conrad’s pulse started to thud.
What does he want? Did he hear of my interest in the spa and guess my intentions? Does he know who I am—are my plans compromised?
His chest constricting, Conrad maintained his outward calm. “Send him in.”
Moments later, Abel Pearce entered the study. Conrad rose, noting that the passing years had been kinder than the bastard deserved. Pearce was fuller in the middle, thinner on top, but was otherwise little changed. He still dressed like the pretentious ass he was and had the same grating, falsely hearty manner.
Despite the twenty-odd years that had passed, Conrad could have picked his distant relation out of the crowd. He tensed as Pearce studied him with keen eyes.
Does the blackguard recognize me?
“Mr. Godwin.” Pearce’s bow was deferential. “I hope I am not intruding. Although we are not acquainted, my family has a long legacy in Chuddums, and I take it upon myself to extend a welcome whenever a gentleman of quality joins our fold.”
Relief loosened the knots in Conrad’s chest.
Of course, Pearce doesn’t know me. He couldn’t get rid of my mama and me fast enough. He didn’t think twice about throwing us out…about withholding what was rightfully ours.
