“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, Miss Quick.”
The housekeeper stood at the doorway, worrying the hem of her apron in her hands. Hawk thought she must have been listening at the door and decided to step in and help her mistress.
“You’re not, Mrs. Huddleston,” Miss Quick said. “What do you need?”
“There’s a young beggar at the back door looking for a piece of bread to eat.”
“You know you don’t have to ask me what to do if someone is hungry. Give him more than he wants.”
“Oh, yes, miss, I know. I told him to wait and I’d get him some, but I think you need to come see him, too. He doesn’t look well to me, and I thought you’d want to know.”
Hawk knew what the weather was like outside. “Well or not, no one should be out on a night like this.”
“I agree,” Miss Quick said. “We’ll bring him inside, of course.” She looked at the housekeeper. “Is he alone?”
“Appears to be. I asked him to step into the kitchen and warm himself, but he refused. Said he only wanted some bread and that he’d wait by the door for it. I came directly to tell you.”
“I’m glad you did. Excuse me, Your Grace,” she said, laying her napkin on the table. “I must attend to this.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Hawk followed Miss Quick down the long, wide corridor and into the kitchen. Three female servants he hadn’t seen before were standing huddled near a table that held the remains from their supper. Mrs. Huddleston opened the back door and a blast of chilling air swept inside with a cold swoosh of wind. Hawk saw a boy of about twelve or thirteen looking pale as a ghost, shivering, and wet head-to-toe from the icy rain.
“Merciful heavens!” Miss Quick said earnestly and held out her hand to the lad. “Come inside at once.”
But the beggar had already caught sight of Hawk, and for some reason that struck fear in him. He started to wobble on his feet. His eyes rounded and he jerked back as if he’d been struck. A split second later he turned and staggered away.
“No! Wait,” Miss Quick called. “Don’t go. We want to help you!”
Hawk knew the youngster would freeze to death if he tried to stay outside. He looked at Miss Quick. “I’ll go find him and bring him back. You get him some dry clothes and something warm to drink and have it ready for when I return.”
There was no time for Hawk to get his cloak. If he lost sight of the boy he might not locate him again with the night so dark. Hawk immediately rushed out in the direction the lad had vanished.
Icy sharp crystals slashed across Hawk’s face and stung his eyes. Wet, blustery gusts of wind tore at his clothing, plastering it against his body as soon as he left the sanctuary of the roofed portico and started down the steps.
He lifted the collar of his coat against the frigid rain and trudged forward against the onslaught of sleet. Hawk’s boots slid on the rapidly freezing ground, making it difficult for him to keep his balance. It was dark as Hades and Hawk almost lost sight of the rascal because of the stinging ice pellets hitting his eyes. He couldn’t hear anything but the wind whipping around his ears.
“Damnation,” he muttered to himself as his foot slipped on a frozen patch of earth again and he almost went down.
In the distance through the hazy air and stinging ice, he could barely see the movement of the boy. It looked as if he were half running and half stumbling.
Hawk picked up his pace, but it wasn’t easy on the slippery ground. The youngster was fast, but Hawk was determined not to lose sight of him and let him get away. When Hawk was close enough, he reached out and grabbed the back of lad’s coat. He grunted and kept pushing forward against the howling wind and ice. Suddenly all Hawk was holding was a coat. The imp had unbuttoned it so that it would be pulled off his arms.
Giving the coat a frustrated toss, Hawk exhaled sharply and kept running. This wasn’t the first time the boy had bolted at the sight of a man. The imp was obviously used to being chased. He darted from side to side, trying to make it harder for Hawk to catch him. But Hawk wouldn’t be fooled again. Waiting until he got closer the second time, Hawk grabbed the back of his shirt with one hand and clamped his other hand on the boy’s shoulder and finally stopped him.
The boy swung around with both his fists flying in all directions. He grunted and hoarsely yelled, “Get away from me, ye cur! I didn’t steal anything from ye fancy home.”
“Stop fighting me,” Hawk said to the lad, trying to catch his flailing arms and stop his panicked thrashing.
“Let me be, damn ye black soul! I didn’t do anything to ye! Ye blackguard!”
From the boy’s crude language, Hawk knew he wasn’t a farmer’s child who’d lost his way. But how could a street urchin find himself so far away from civilization?
“Calm down,” Hawk grumbled while cold, hard crystals continued to hit his face. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying to save your life.”
It must have taken the last of the ragamuffin’s strength to strike out at Hawk. All of a sudden the youngster’s body stilled. His eyes widened and rolled back in his head. He went limp and dropped like a sack of grain to the ground in a heap at Hawk’s feet.
“Hellfire,” Hawk muttered.
