Especially Miss Quick.
Rath and Griffin’s laughter died away, and Rath sounded more serious when he asked, “What will you do if you bring him back to London? Put him in an orphanage?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably be too old for that kind of home. He may have lived on his own too long for that to be something that would work for him anyway. If he turns out to be a decent lad, I’ll try to settle him with a family on one of my estates or help him learn a trade here in Town. All I know right now is that when I tried to help him, he had the mouth of a guttersnipe.”
Hawk knew there was no way he was leaving him with Miss Quick for any longer than it took for him to get backthere. It was easy to see she had a soft heart. She wasn’t looking at him as a beggar, a possible thief, or even just a lost boy. She only saw a youngster who was in need.
The lad wasn’t the only reason he was eager to return to Mammoth House. And it wasn’t Mr. Quick and the matter he had with the man about Adele that was on his mind.
It was Miss Quick.
There was something about her that had him thinking his business with her wasn’t yet finished. Since returning to London, Hawk had found it didn’t take much to remind him of her. Whenever he thought about her, which was more often than he thought he would, he remembered seeing her standing in front of the fire dressed in the buttery-yellow gown looking soangelic. He remembered her soft lips, her warm body, and the whispered satisfied sighs of enjoyment while he kissed her.
Perhaps he’d pick up a box of confections for her from that new bakery that had opened up down the street. He’d have them wrapped with a yellow ribbon. The thought of that made him smile.
And there was one other thing he wanted to do for Miss Quick, but it wasn’t anything he wanted to tell his friends, so he picked up his ale and took a drink.
“When is it you plan to return?” Griffin asked.
“Probably Thursday. I wanted to make sure I gave her brother plenty of time to get home before I returned.”
“Wait,” Griffin said, interrupting Hawk. “Don’t look now but I see the Lord Mayor walking in. No doubt he’ll want to stop and talk to us if we don’t make a hasty retreat to one of the gaming rooms.”
Hawk and Rath immediately ignored Griffin’s instructions and turned to look at the Lord Mayor, who’d stopped to speak to the gentlemen at another table.
“No doubt he will want to bend our ear concerning thenumber of streetlamps that don’t work or how many shop signs are in a state of disrepair.”
“Something we can’t do anything about, nor do we care about,” Griffin offered. “So before he makes his way over here, I say we make our way out the other door.”
“Let’s plan to meet back here next week so we can hear how Hawk’s second visit to Mammoth House turns out.”
Griffin and Rath looked at Hawk.
“I wouldn’t dream of denying you two the salacious details of my next visit there,” he said, not meaning a word of it, and feeling comfortable that his friends knew that. Hawk slid his chair back as he rose. “You two go ahead, and I’ll catch up with you later. I see Sir Welby walking in. I think I’ll have a word with him.”
“Is he walking with a cane now?” Rath asked, rising to stand between Griffin and Hawk.
“Looks like it,” Hawk answered. “But he doesn’t seem to be hobbling as if something is wrong with his foot or leg. See how he’s holding it out in front of him. I think he’s using it as a guide so he won’t stumble into anything.”
“I don’t suppose his sight is any better,” Griffin offered.
Rath ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “From the looks of the poor man, it’s worse.”
“It can’t be easy for him to get around even though his driver helps him out of the carriage and to the door. I have to admire the man for making the effort and not giving up.”
“I agree,” Hawk added. “And since he’s here, it won’t hurt to ask him if he’s heard any new rumors this year or if he has remembered any more from last year.”
“Good luck getting anything out of him,” Griffin murmured.
Hawk said good-bye to his friends, picked up his tankard, and headed over to the table by the entrance whereSir Welby was pulling out a chair. The old gentleman was the person who’d overheard some young bucks talking last spring about the possibility of ruining Griffin’s twin sisters’ debut Season. The old man never admitted to knowing who they were, and Hawk doubted he’d confess their names this year, but it was worth a try.
“Let me help you with that,” Hawk said and took hold of the old man’s arm.
“Hawksthorn, is that you?” the white-haired man asked.
“It is.”
“Thank you, thank you, most kind of you,” he said, easing into the wooden chair with a groan. “I know one of these days I’m going to have to give up coming to this club, but I decided it won’t be today. No, not today.”
