Miss Allen gasped. “We cannot go in there like this!”
“It is one of the few places we can,” he muttered. “She’s my aunt.” He looked out the window. “We’ll go in from the back.”
The carriage stopped in the middle of the street, not quite close enough to the alleyway, but the best that could be managed. He already had his coin ready when he pushed open the door. Then as fast as possible, he paid the driver, helped the ladies out, and pushed them toward the dark.
He didn’t have to push hard. They were already moving, though a few people on the street gasped at Miss Allen’s blood-covered gown. Iseabail moved to shield her on one side while Reuben took the other. They rushed to the back door to his aunt’s dress shop.
He rapped three times, very fast, and a fourth a beat later. He was rewarded in a moment as his aunt hauled open the door. She took in his measure with a sweeping glance, then stepped back so they could enter.
“I knew you couldn’t contain yerself,” she muttered as he pulled the ladies inside. “An’ now look what you’ve done to two more. Ladies they are, brought down by you.”
She always was a sourpuss. “This was not my doing,” he shot back.
“An’ when does that matter?” She folded her arms as she looked at the ladies. “You’ve got dirt and a tear,” she said to Iseabail, “but it’s not so bad.”
Miss Allen sighed as she dropped her bloody gloves into the nearest rubbish bin. “But I’m a complete mess,” she said.
“Aye, but I’ve got something for you.”
“For them both,” Reuben said. “Make them fully presentable as quick as you can.” Meanwhile he shrugged out his jacket. Damnation, there was blood on his shirtsleeves too. “I’ll need it all, too,” he groaned.
His aunt jerked her head to the side room. “You know where to go.”
He did. His aunt’s shop had been his first investment. He’d even spent time stitching crude seams when he was a younger, though that time had been mercifully short. It had been his idea to whisper to the men in the gaming hell that their wives and sisters would receive a discount if they frequented her shop. That had been enough to entice her first titled customers. And with him keeping an eye on the expenses, her dress shop had flourished. In thanks, she allowed him to keep a change of clothing upstairs in her private rooms.
He needed to go there now, but he was loath to leave Iseabail. “This is my aunt,” he said. “Aunt—”
“Madame Joie,” his aunt said, though her real name was Judy Bates. “My nephew has brought you to ruin, hasn’t he? Tut, tut. I’ll set everything to rights.”
“I’ve hardly brought them to ruin,” he began, but Iseabail interrupted her.
“Actually, he was helping me, and for that I am grateful. Indeed, I’m hoping we can—”
Reuben stepped forward. “That’s not up for discussion right now. Change your clothes—I’ll pay for it all—and then come upstairs for some tea. We can make a plan then.”
Iseabail faced him. Where her friend was still obviously shaken, Iseabail’s face was calm, her expression and her attitude set. “Do you think I haven’t gone over and over this in my mind? I have feared this moment for weeks—”
“But I am not your solution,” he said.
“Are you certain? I can offer you—”
“Everything?” he inserted. It was what she’d said in her bedroom.
She nodded. “And you said that was exactly what you wanted.”
It was true. He just didn’t want her kind of everything. “I have a plan.” He softened his voice. “It does not include you.” How those words stuck in his throat, but he forced them out.
“You want Lady Rebecca or her ilk.” she shook her head. “That is no longer possible. You must readjust.”
How many times had he said that exact thing to one of his relations? One business scheme after another failed because someone was too stubborn to see disaster coming and change his method. Was he that blind? That arrogant?
Of course, he was. But he would not admit that yet. Not with his aunt watching them with a too-smart eye. She would see that he wanted nothing more than to touch Miss Spalding. That part of him longed to be her protector against all ills. And she had some very big ills arranged against her. He knew of no other man beside himself who might save her. But to do so would upend all his careful plans.
“It is not easy to say no to a beautiful woman,” he murmured. “And yet I have done it countless times.”
She huffed. “I am not coming to you as a beautiful woman. I have things to offer. Five hundred—”
He caught her arm hard enough to silence her. It was never wise to talk money in front of others. “We will discuss this upstairs. Over tea.”
