Page 119 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Chapter 36

With a fiery pain in his cheek, Connor stared after Margaret. He’d injured her. And she was right. He’d lied. To her. To himself. He should have stuck to his convictions and not let himself fall in love.

He turned and began walking without direction. When Meg went on her voyage, she would meet fine people and have fine parties. She might even forget all about him as she’d claimed. Connor would solve crimes and try to convince himself that it would be a sufficient life.

He pulled himself together enough to complete his newest assignment, all while seeking out his street contacts about the whereabouts of the Finches.

After two days, he found his little waif. She stared at him with the same hollowed eyes, and yet, she drew closer than ever before, as if she might have a sliver of trust in him.

He knelt and smiled gently. “There you are. I need your help again, dove.”

Her eyes brightened.

“I’m looking for a carriage with a gentry cove and his wife leaving Mayfair on Tuesday past. Their carriage was all black, but someone said the horses had red plumes on their heads.”

The little waif considered, then shook her head.

“They might be staying somewhere nearby, in hiding.” Connor described the couple with words she’d understand, and ended with a promise to pay her well if she found them.

She nodded. “I’ll look for ’em.”

He gave her a coin and smiled as she trotted off, a bit more like a child and less like an alley cat.

Over the next few days, he worked assignments with a vengeance, but nothing seemed tangible except his consuming loneliness and pain. How would he live the rest of his life without Meg?

After another pointless search for the Finches and a hollow but victorious recovery of some stolen jewels, Connor stood, staring stupidly at the reward money in his hands, feeling empty—no sense of satisfaction for a difficult task, no glee over more money exceeding what he usually received in a month. Nothing.

Perhaps he could do something more meaningful than purchase candles and meat pies or a new pair of boots. He could never atone for the way he’d wounded Meg, but he could return something precious to her.

After requesting a leave of absence from Bow Street, Connor purchased passage on a mail coach heading north and walked into the pawnshop of the little village where he’d first encountered Lady Margaret.

Inside the pawnshop, he approached the counter where a delicate bracelet with pearls and sapphires winked from a black velvet cloth.

A weight he didn’t realize had been pressing on him now lifted. There had been the chance that the bracelet had been sold to someone else. But there it sat as if waiting for him to retrieve it for its rightful owner.

“You have excellent taste, sir,” a voice said.

He looked up into the face of the shopkeeper.

She cocked her head. “I know you, don’t I?”

“How much for this pretty bauble?”

She named a sum almost as atrocious as the amount she’d tried to sell it back to Margaret.

Connor laughed. “Oi, that’s a good one. No, really, how much?”

The shopkeeper was not amused. “This is very fine quality, sir.”

“Maybe, but that’s too fine for me. Come on, dearie. Give me a fair deal. This would be pretty on my girl.”

She remained firm, despite her clear lack of other prospects who wanted to purchase such an expensive item, so Connor handed over several weeks’ worth of pay and went home with Margaret’s bracelet nestled in an unassuming box in his pocket. He’d do without candles, coal, and any kind of drink, but it was worth it. During a rare moment when he was the sole occupant of the mail coach, he took it out and looked it over. Inside, writing caught his attention. He read the inscription.

A sister’s love is eternal, as is mine for you.

Rachel

No wonder she’d been so attached to it. And she’d mentioned something about the gift coming during an especially difficult time in her life, so it had added sentimental value. Perhaps returning it to her would give her some comfort.