From Rags to Kisses by Shana Galen

Seven

“Where is Lord Chamberlaynethis afternoon?” Aidan asked when Jenny climbed into his coach at half past four the next day. She’d sent a note to his secretary that she would be available at that time to aid him in his work. Aidan hadn’t needed to wonder what the work was. They would go to see the mudlarks.

“Have you even been home?” she asked, running her critical gray eyes over him. “He’s still in your larder. There’s a tablecloth in the bottom of one of the trunks, and he’s spent the last day studying it. I know next to nothing about needlework, so I focused on the journals.” She looked up and then from side to side. “Wot the ‘ell?” she said, forgetting herself. “Is this a coach or a moving palace?”

“A little of both. Care for tea? The servants always keep hot water available.”

She gave him a look that said he was ridiculous. He shrugged. “Found anything interesting in the journals?”

“Plenty. We aren’t taking this bauble into the rookeries, are we? I don’t fancy a beating as soon as we step out.”

“My coachman will drive us closer and then we’ll go on foot.” She wore a long cloak, which he’d thought a bit dramatic for early afternoon, but looking down, he saw she also wore serviceable boots. Or at least that’s what he thought from the toes he saw peeking out. “Your foot attire looks more comfortable today. We should probably be prepared to run. You’re so pretty you’re bound to attract notice.”

She scowled at him. “That’s why I have this.” She waved a large hat that looked like something his coachman had given her. As he watched, she pulled her hair into a plait, tossed it back, and stuck the hat on her head, shielding her face from view.

“That might work except the cloak is good quality. Someone will want to steal it.” His own clothing was probably too fine as well, even though he’d changed into his oldest coat and the boots he’d scuffed the last time he’d searched for this Harley. Thank God he didn’t have a fussy valet who would have thrown these garments out immediately.

“I’ll leave it in the coach,” she said. “Along with this nob accent.” She tossed the cloak off her shoulders to reveal a white shirt, black coat, and black breeches. Aidan’s throat went dry. The boots were not ladies’ half-boots as he’d assumed. They were men’s riding boots and went to just below her knee, which was quite plain to see in the tight breeches. If she hadn’t been sitting down, he would have seen more than that, he knew. He supposed the garments were worn and chosen to attract little notice, but Aidan had forgotten what Jenny looked like in breeches and a shirt that strained across her breasts. Come to think of it, she’d been so thin when he’d known her before, she’d never looked quite like this, though by the time she was sixteen and he fifteen, the sight of her bending over in trousers had begun to affect him.

“Wot?” she asked, finally noticing his stare. He looked away.

“You look perfect.”

“Where are we ‘eaded?”

“The river,” he said, opening one of the cabinets and pulling out a bottle of brandy. He just needed a small drink to wet his throat. It felt as though he’d swallowed sand.

“Why the river?”

“The information I was able to gather seemed to indicate she was friendly with the mudlarks.”

“Really?” Jenny’s smile was wistful. “I like this girl already.” She watched him down the brandy. “Where’d ye come by this information? Did ye toss a few coppers at some little cub who then sold ye out?”

“Something like that.”

She nodded then looked about again. “Ye don’t think this seems a bit...much?” she asked.

“The coach?”

“The coach. The velvet and silks and the gilt on the cabinets. The”—she pointed to the ceiling—“painting.”

“I like to have the best. This is the best. Feel how smoothly it rides?”

“ ‘Ow much did this cost ye?” she asked. He must have made some expression because she waved a hand. “I don’t care if I’m not supposed to ask. ‘Ow much? A thousand quid?”

He didn’t answer.

“More? Three thousand quid? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Don’t ye remember ‘ating men like ye? Men who spent blunt like water when we would ‘ave killed for a farthing.”

“I give to charities.”

She made a face. “Charities never ‘elped us. They wanted to lock us away in an orphanage.”

“You should probably stop talking like that. This Harley is bound for an orphanage, but from what I’ve heard it’s more like a home and less like a prison.”

Jenny gave him a dubious look. She ran her hand over the velvet of her seat. “I always felt sorry for those rich men,” she said. “I know ye ‘ated them, and I did too, but I felt sorry for them too.”

Aidan stared at her and wondered if the brandy was stronger than he’d thought. She wasn’t making sense.

“Why is that?”

“Because they didn’t realize that all the blunt in the world couldn’t make them ‘appy. Me and ye, we didn’t have two tuppence to rub together, but we were ‘appy.” Her gray-blue eyes met his. “At least I was.”

Aidan started at her words. It was almost as though she’d seen directly into his deepest thoughts. The coach stopped then, and Aidan was relieved for the interruption. Once on the street, Aidan sent the coachman back home and told him he wouldn’t be needed again this afternoon. They were close enough to the river that he could smell it, and he wrinkled his nose at the stench. Jenny didn’t laugh at him, but her eyes looked merry. “The tide is down, I suppose,” she said. “So we will find them ‘ard at work. Not the best time to strike up a conversation.”

“Actually, there’s another hour before it’s at its lowest.” He tried not to allow his eyes to drift down to those breeches. Did anyone really think she was a man in those? “At least that’s what the ship’s captain I had my secretary consult said. So now is as good a time as any.”

“We’d better go then.” They started to walk, she falling into step beside him, and his head was dizzy with the feeling of déjà vu. But it wasn’t déjà vu because he had done this before. It seemed he’d lived a lifetime since walking the streets at her side.

“Ye said ye’d tell me more about this girl. So go on then.”

He summarized the information FitzRoy had given him. The girl went by the name Harley and had provided them information that had saved Lady Daphne’s life.

“And so they repay ‘er by locking ‘er in an orphanage?”

“I told you—”

“Right. It’s a ‘ome. Sure it is.”

They made it through the jostling crowds of men and women trudging home after a day’s work. Closer to the river the number of people they saw thinned, and by the time they were on the banks, there were only the usual scavengers. Aidan tried not to look too hard at the haggard women with children clinging to their skirts who bent over, searching for a piece of coal to burn that night or an ounce of iron to sell. One in particular looked so thin and desperate that Aidan had to look away.

“Lend me a crown,” she said. Of course, Jenny had not looked away.

“Jenny?” Aidan said with a warning tone but already reaching in his pocket to hand it to her. “If you give her money, we’ll have a crowd of beggars around us in no time.”

“Give me some credit,” she said. He watched as she pretended to search the beach for something she might scavenge. She moved close to the woman, who gave her a warning look. Jenny pretended to take note of the look and moved further down the beach. Aidan followed her, keeping his gaze on the woman. She’d obviously learned not to react when she found something of value—that was the quickest way to have it stolen—but he didn’t miss the way her body stiffened as she reached for the crown Jenny had dropped in her path. She pocketed it quick as a flash, and in another minute she and the child were gone.

Aidan wasn’t surprised at what Jenny had done. After all, she’d saved him all those years before.

“There. Now she’s out of the way,” Jenny said as if that had been the reason she’d dropped the coin.

A bit further down the beach a small group of young mudlarks crowded together, combing the beach. They were dressed similarly in clothes that hung off their bodies, loose trousers rolled up to the knee and feet bare. In another half hour they’d venture onto the mud in the river and see what they could unearth there. It was also a good time to dive into the deeper areas of the river, though Aidan didn’t know how they could stand it. Sewage flowed freely into the river, and just the smell of the river burned his nose. He couldn’t imagine submerging himself in it.

As they approached, one of the boys said something to the others, and they all gave Aidan and Jenny watchful looks. The tallest one, who was also probably the oldest, stepped forward. He pointed a finger at them, and Aidan noticed his hands were red and raw. “This is our spot. Ye go treasure ‘unt somewhere else.”

“It’s a good spot,” Aidan commented, studying the section of the river. It bent slightly here, slowing the currents. Anything being carried in the river might have time to sink or be caught on a branch or piece of rubbish.

“Ye one of them inspectors?” the leader asked. “We don’t know nothing about that body. They wash up ‘ere all the time. We let them be.”

“After you empty their pockets, you mean,” Aidan said.

Before the boy could lie and say they didn’t, Jenny stepped forward. “ ‘E ain’t interested in any bodies or taking wot ye’ve found.”

The boys exchanged looks when they heard her speak. It was obvious that though she was dressed far better than they, she was one of them.

“Then why are ye ‘ere?” the leader asked. “If I found a way to get out, I wouldn’t come back.”

The boys behind him nodded. Aidan noticed there were a few girls as well. They were dressed in ragged skirts, tied up to show knobby knees. One had stringy dark hair and but for the fact that her eyes were dark, she might have been Jenny when he first met her.

“We’re looking for someone,” she said. “Ye don’t know ‘er. She’s probably moved on from these parts by now.” She took Aidan’s arm, seemingly ready to move on. Damn, but she was clever. She’d stirred their curiosity, turning the tables so they were wanting information, not she.

“Who is she?” one of the children asked, falling right into her trap.

The leader shushed him, but he was ignored. Another mudlark said, “Who is this girl?”

“Ye won’t know ‘er,” Jenny said dismissively. “If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be. She can ‘ide in the shadows like.”

“We might know ‘er,” one of the children said. “Wot’s ‘er name?”

“I ‘ave a name, but it’s not ‘er real name. She’s not so dim she’d ever give ‘er real name.”

The children nodded, clearly in agreement that anyone who gave his or her real name was quite dim.

“Wot’s ‘er street name then?” the leader asked, giving up his effort to seem uninterested.

“She goes by ‘Arley. I said ye wouldn’t know ‘er.”

But Aidan was watching their faces when Jenny said the name, and some of the children, the younger ones who were not yet so good at hiding their emotions, clearly did know Harley. One piped up, “I know ‘Arley!”

“Stubble it,” the leader said.

Jenny shrugged. “Probably a different ‘Arley.”

“There’s only one ‘Arley,” another child said. “We calls ‘er that because no one ‘arley ever sees ‘er.”

“That might be ‘er. Might not. Wot’s yer ‘Arley look like then?”

Aidan held his breath. She’d pushed her luck a bit, and this was where they might call her on it. But she had the children truly invested in proving their knowledge now. One little girl stepped forward. “She’s about yea ‘igh.” She held her hand just above her own head.

“And she ‘as brown ‘air she keeps tucked up under ‘er cap. She always wears a cap.”

Jenny pretended to be shocked. “That might be ‘er, but then lots of girls wear their ‘air tucked up.”

“She dresses like a lad,” the leader said, unable to keep from joining in. “Like ye. And she sleeps over by the bridge. Don’t like being closed in.”

“Might just be ‘er,” Jenny shrugged. She looked at Aidan. “Let’s go.”

He knew better than to argue, though he could almost smell victory. But he was enough of a negotiator himself to know that was the best time to walk away, even if it physically hurt.

“Why do ye want to find ‘er?” the leader asked.

“Wot does it matter?” Jenny said. “Ye won’t tell ‘er that nob she ‘elped last year wants to repay ‘er.”

The leader shook his head. “ ‘E wanted to lock ‘er up.”

“Lock ‘er up.” Jenny laughed. “These nobs don’t know wot to do with all the blunt in their pockets. The lady ‘Arley ‘elped wants to repay ‘er.”

The leader crossed his arms over his skinny chest. “ ‘Ow?”

“Oy, that’s none of yer business. If we find ‘er, we’ll tell ‘er. Mr. Sterling, are you ready to go?”

“Absolutely.”

They walked on as though they had intended to go this way all along. “Wot bridge ye think ‘e means?” she asked as they moved out of earshot. “ ‘As to be London Bridge.”

“That’s my guess. It’s growing dark. We should come back another time.”

She gave him a derisive look. “Plenty of daylight left. And I didn’t come without protection.” She indicated one of her boots.

“Don’t tell me you have a dagger hiding in there.”

“Fine. I won’t tell ye then.” She gave him a look of challenge. “But if yer afraid—”

“I simply wasn’t looking forward to having to defend your honor when some of the men see you walk by. You look a lot less like a boy in those breeches than you used to.”

She winked at him. “It was the best I could do on short notice. Poor Roland wasn’t sure wot to make of me.”

Aidan stopped and Jenny had to turn to look back at him. “You told him what you were doing?”

“Where do ye think I got the clothes?”

“And he didn’t mind?”

She scrunched up her face. “Well, I wouldn’t say that exactly, but ‘e didn’t try to stop me.”

They walked on for a few minutes in silence, Aidan watching his steps as the riverbank could be uneven. He hadn’t thought much about her relationship with Viscount Chamberlayne. He hadn’t wanted to. But now that he did all signs seemed to point to an open and honest relationship. A real relationship. The viscount obviously knew Jenny very well and if he’d allowed her to borrow his clothing for this little jaunt, he must know her well enough to understand he couldn’t stop her if she set her mind to something.

“Did you tell him you lost the wager?” he asked. In the distance, London Bridge was coming into focus.

She seemed to bristle at his words. “Not likely. And ‘e weren’t ‘appy I was slumming with ye, but I told ‘im ye’d probably turn up floating in the river if I didn’t.”

“Your confidence in me is inspiring.”

“Ye want my ‘elp or not?”

“I want your help. You’ve already gleaned more information in a quarter hour than I acquired in three. There’s the bridge there. Looks empty at the moment.”

Although Aidan had crossed the bridge hundreds, if not thousands. of times in the years since his uncle had found him and pulled him out of poverty, this was the first time he had approached it from the river and on foot in thirteen or more years. The landscape was the same and yet different. The same discarded clothing items, rotten vegetables, and broken pieces of wood and crockery had washed up underneath. Small areas had been cleared of rubbish, and this was obviously where people slept when the weather wasn’t too cold—and probably even when it was.

This was one of the places he and Jenny had slept on warmer summer nights. This night wasn’t particularly warm as it wasn’t quite summer yet, but it was mild enough to bring the memories back to him. He glanced at Jenny, but her expression was unreadable.

“I know wot yer thinking about,” she said.

“I doubt that.”

“Yer thinking about that night when we were ‘ere alone.”

He had been thinking about that night. It wasn’t the first time they’d been together. There had been a few times before that, but those had been awkward stumbling attempts that left them both laughing and only him satisfied and even that was questionable. But that warm summer night under the bridge—how could he ever forget it?

“It’s difficult not to think about it,” he said. “I haven’t been back since then. I’m sure you were back many times and have forgotten all about it.” He gave her a sidelong glance. He saw the way her lips tightened and then she glanced at him.

“I didn’t forget it. I didn’t forget any of it.” She walked on ahead, looking about as though searching for some evidence of Harley’s occupation here. Aidan understood her implication perfectly well. He was the one who had left her. He was the one who had forgotten.

But watching her now, it was almost as though the decade had been wiped away. She was Jenny and he was Aidan, and though he was warm and well-fed now, all the other feelings—the emotions he’d had for her—were coming back. In the past, loving her had been like breathing. He didn’t think about it. He just did it. He didn’t know when he had fallen in love with her—it seemed something that had come about so gradually that he couldn’t remember when he hadn’t loved her.

He’d never told her he loved her before that night under the bridge. She knew he loved her, just as he knew she loved him. But that was the night he’d said the words.

He didn’t want to remember those words now, any more than he wanted to remember how she’d cried hearing them. And it was pure torture to remember the feel of her body under his, the way her breath hitched when he touched her and she trembled when he pleasured her.

Or how she’d asked him to promise never to leave her.

And he’d promised.

But he hadn’t meant it. Not even then. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He wished he could go back and mean it. He wished he hadn’t ever left her.

***

JENNY COULD ALMOSTsee his mind remembering the time they’d lain here together. Jenny tried to remember how she’d felt that night, only a few weeks before he broke his promise and left her, but it was too tainted by the hurt that came afterward. She only remembered there had been something beautiful between them, and then he’d smashed it and left her to clean up the pieces.

She’d thought she’d swept them all away, thought she’d put her heart back together. But it was easy to believe that when the destroyer wasn’t standing in front of her. “I’ll have a look around,” she said and moved under the bridge. The girl they sought wasn’t here, and even if they did find something of hers, it wasn’t as though it would be marked Harley.

She crossed her arms, rubbing her hands up and down to warm herself. Aidan came up behind her, and she expected him to suggest they leave. He probably had bags of money to count.

“I know I have no right to ask this,” he said, his voice low as he spoke. She closed her eyes and could almost imagine he was the boy she’d fallen in love with. She turned her head slightly to let him know she was listening. “Are you happy?” he asked. “With him?”

Roland. He was concerned about her engagement. She might have pointed out that it was a little late to worry about her, but neither of them could change the past. “I am,” she said.

“Do you...” His voice faded and she knew he was trying to think how to phrase it. But he was Aidan and she Jenny, and she knew what he was thinking without him saying a word. Decades might pass, centuries even, and she’d know.

“No,” she said. “It’s not like that between us.”

“Then how is it?”

“We’re friends.” She had to tread carefully here. “ ‘E needs me, and I need ‘im.”

He was so close to her now. She could feel the heat of his body. Touch me, she thought, and as though she had willed it, he put his arms about her waist and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I need you, Jenny.”

The sharp ache of need between her legs almost made her groan. There had been other men after Aidan, and she would have been a simpleton to think there hadn’t been other women after her. But she’d never felt with any other man the way she felt with him.

“I want ye,” she said, turning in his arms. His forehead rested on hers, his expression pained. She understood his turmoil. She belonged to another man, and he respected that. Hers was different. Roland didn’t care if she lay with Aidan. He only cared if she was caught. Taking Aidan to bed wasn’t a betrayal of Roland, but would she be able to go through with the marriage, to walk away from Aidan if she allowed this to happen?

Oh, yes, she would. And she might just give him a taste of the pain he’d given her all those years ago. Not that pain was her main impetus for action. She wanted him badly.

“One night,” she said, looking into his eyes.

“You’re betrothed.”

“I’d never do anything to ‘urt Roland, and ye’ll ‘ave to trust me if I say this won’t ‘urt ‘im.”

“What about you?”

“Do you bite now?” she teased.

“I might.”

She couldn’t stop herself from taking his mouth. The image of his teeth grazing her skin made her legs weak. He stumbled back at the force of her kiss, then caught himself, lifted her and pressed her against one of the bridge supports. She wrapped her legs around him, happy for the freedom of the breeches. He was hard where his body pressed against her, and she moved against him. He groaned, his hands digging into her buttocks as he held her.

“If we don’t stop now,” he said, his voice breathless, “I’ll take you here.”

“Don’t tease me,” she said. She kissed his neck then lightly bit his earlobe. “Take me ‘ome.”

She didn’t remember how they’d made their way back to his house. His hand was in hers and everything she saw seemed dim and murky through her haze of desire. She’d thought about taking him in the coach, but he’d given her a look that said wait. And when he pulled her into his bed chamber, past the servants who pretended not to notice them rushing through the door and up the stairs, she was glad she had waited. She could see him in the light of the lamp, and all that dark hair and those dark eyes just whet her appetite. She was aware of a large chamber and an even larger bed, but mostly she was aware of Aidan. He tugged off his coat, and she shook off hers. He inhaled sharply and she glanced down to see how her white shirt stretched across her breasts and how the hips of the breeches looked unusually rounded as they fit snugly over hers.

She unbuttoned the collar of the shirt until it was open in a V that exposed her cleavage. She hadn’t worn stays under the shirt. She hadn’t worn anything as her breasts weren’t so large as to require binding if she had a coat. Now she could feel her nipples hard and rubbing against the soft linen. She imagined that was why Aidan’s hand had frozen at his own collar and his mouth had dropped open. “Take it off,” he’d said, his voice rough.

She bit her lip and pretended to fumble with the cuffs at her wrist. But eventually, when she’d tortured him long enough, she tugged the shirt tail out of the breeches and up over her belly, over her breasts, and over her head. She dropped it on the floor, standing bare chested before him.

“Christ,” he said. “I didn’t imagine them.”

She gave him a curious look, and he crossed to her, his gaze so hot on her that her sex had begun to throb with need. “Ye forgot I ‘ad tits?”

“Never,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “But when I remembered them, I always imagined these tips”—one finger brushed over a distended nipple and she let out a breath—“thrust upward. I imagined that dusky rose color. I wasn’t sure I’d remembered them correctly. But I remembered perfectly.” His gaze met hers. “Can I touch you?”

“I’m not ‘ere for ye to just look.”

He cupped one of her tits then and ran his thumb along the upward slope until it circled the darker center and made the point so hard it almost hurt. While one thumb played with that point, he did the same with her other breast, until she was breathing hard. With a wicked look in his eyes, he bent and took one nipple in his mouth, rolling it over on his tongue then sucking harder and biting lightly.

She was wet now and clenching her thighs together to stop the insistent throb. “Take yer clothes off,” she demanded. “I want ye inside me.”

“If I only have one night,” he answered, “I want to make it last.” He crowded her back against a papered wall then caught up her hands and held them above her head. She didn’t fight him. He would have let her go if she’d said one word, but there was something about letting him take control that made her even hotter. He kissed her then, his mouth skillfully taking hers, opening it so his tongue could explore her with long, lingering strokes. With his free hand, he skimmed over her shoulders, her arms, the side of her breast, her waist. Then his hand dipped into the breeches, and he stilled and pulled back.

“You’re bare beneath those as well?”

“Where would I get drawers?” she asked.

He uttered an expletive she didn’t realize the upper class knew, then picked her up and carried her to the bed. He dropped her on it, unceremoniously, and she frowned up at him. “Oy. Wot ‘appened to the one night and making it last?”

“That was before.” He pulled off his own shirt, and her throat went dry. She remembered him very clearly, and at sixteen he hadn’t had those broad shoulders, that muscled chest, or that smattering of hair. She followed it down to the bulge in his breeches then sat and reached for the fall.

He caught her hand and gave her a reproving look. “Boots off.” He bent and tugged them from her bare feet. She lay back, enjoying the feel of the soft bed beneath her until he bent over her and kissed her belly. Her hands went into his hair as he unfastened the fall of her breeches and slid them off. She was naked now, and she wanted to feel his chest against her skin. He bent over her, kissing her, and she arched up, pressing her tits against him. He groaned and slid up and down, teasing her. Then his mouth made a slow trail over her neck, up to her ear. He breathed against it, whispered something very naughty, and bit her earlobe. It was repayment for what she’d done to him earlier. The nip was sharp and hard, and her sex clenched with desire.

“You like that.” His hand slid between her legs. “Yes, I can see you like it a lot.”

He hadn’t had this confidence when they’d been young and still learning how to please each other. Now his hand moved with assurance as he parted her folds and wet his fingers.

“Yes,” she said. She parted her legs and told him what to do with his fingers. He bit her breast lightly, and she groaned when he took her nipple in his mouth again as he complied and slid two fingers inside her.

She knew what she wanted now, and she moved against his fingers. He suckled her as she pressed against him, her quick breaths turning to pants. His mouth moved lazily down her body, his teeth nibbling and his tongue licking. His thumb had found that little nub that gave her the most pleasure and he circled it slowly, making her moan.

She had always been bold and taken what she wanted, but she’d never come so close to climax so quickly. And then he pulled his hand away, and she cried out in protest. “We have all night,” he reminded her. She called him a name that would have made most ladies blush, but he just kissed her navel and moved lower until he nuzzled the hair at the juncture of her legs.

“Are you—” she began and then his mouth dipped between her legs, and she didn’t need to ask. He was. He most definitely was. His mouth brushed against that intimate part of her, and she went rigid with surprise and pleasure. He licked her, long and slow, and her hands delved into his hair as she arched her back.

She had heard about this—of course, she had—but experiencing it was...she was completely lost to the sensation, to the pleasure, to the absolute mind-numbing climax that came after only a few flicks of his tongue.

As she lay panting, trying to catch her breath, she was vaguely aware that he undressed. She made a Herculean effort to lift her head and watch him, surprised as her blood began to heat again at the sight of his lean hips, his long, hard shaft, and those muscled legs. He climbed beside her on the bed, opened a drawer, and lifted out a long case. He opened it and withdrew a sheath.

She raised her brows. “A French letter?”

“I bought this a few months ago at a shop owned by a Mrs. Perkins. I haven’t had the opportunity to use it. Do you want me to? It’s the most effective way to protect you.”

It protected him as well, she knew. Being a bastard himself, she understood he would not want to sire any children.

“Too bad we didn’t ‘ave these all those years ago,” she said.

He stilled and turned his head to look at her. “You didn’t—”

“No, but we ‘ad a few scares, didn’t we?”

He nodded. “Put it on then,” she said. She let her gaze travel down to his erection. “Or did you want me to do it?”

“I think I can manage,” he said, sounding hoarse. He tugged the sheath on and tied the red ribbon at the base then reached for her, but she squirmed away and threw a leg over his hips. His dark eyes went darker as she slid into position.