From Rags to Kisses by Shana Galen

Nine

Jenny found only Oscarin Roland’s parlor at the appointed time. He’d been lying on a couch, reading a book, but he dropped it the moment she entered and sat up. “Tell me everything,” he demanded, patting the cushion beside him. Jenny laughed and shook her head, but she came to sit beside him.

“Where is Roland?”

“Who cares? Tell me about your wicked night before he arrives and ruins everything. It must have been good. Rollie says he met you leaving this morning.”

Jenny gave him a superior look. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she said in her best nob accent.

“Good thing you’re not a lady. Now tell.”

She laughed. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Where did he begin?”

“With ‘is mouth,” she said.

Oscar began to fan his face with his hand. “Where did he put that mouth?”

“Where didn’t ‘e put it is a better question.”

“Oh, my. Is he as delicious without his clothes as he is in them? He looks so hard and muscular.”

“Are you quite through?” a voice asked from the doorway. Oscar rolled his eyes at Roland.

“I told you he’d ruin everything,” he whispered loud enough for Roland to hear. But Oscar stood. “I’ll be off so you can have your tête-à-tête.”

As he passed Roland, Jenny heard the viscount murmur, “I’ll show you hard and muscular later.”

“Ooh, promises, promises.” Oscar closed the door and was gone.

Jenny pretended not to hear but seeing them spar made her smile. She was also aware of a tugging in her chest, dangerously close to the area of her heart. She’d never have the sort of relationship they had—their closeness, their love, their spats. Ridiculous to envy them their arguments, but she did. Perhaps if she’d never had a love like that, she might not miss it and would simply find their behavior curious.

But she had loved like that, and it was unfortunate that Aidan Sterling had chosen now to step back into her life.

“Before ye speak,” Jenny said, “I want to say that was the end. Aidan and me, we agreed on one night together. It won’t ‘appen again.”

“That’s what you said about the kiss.” Roland strolled across the parlor, pausing to lift a curious metal object they’d found a few years ago and still hadn’t been able to identify.

“This time I mean it. I’ll write and ask ‘im to ‘ave the trunks from his larder sent ‘ere, and we won’t ‘ave to see ‘im again.”

“He wants to see you again.”

Jenny froze. “Ye spoke to ‘im?”

“Of course. Someone has to ask about his intentions.”

Jenny jumped off the couch. “Roland! Ye ‘ad no right.”

He waved a hand. “Yes, I realized rather quickly I had probably overstepped. But you hadn’t even told him about Oscar and me.”

“Ye told ‘im?” Jenny practically screamed.

“He doesn’t seem to know what he wants,” Roland said almost to himself. “Probably discomfiting to a man like him. But I can see quite clearly that he wants you, even if he won’t admit it to himself yet.”

Jenny folded her arms across her chest. “Well ‘e don’t always get wot ‘e wants.”

Roland looked at her. “But why shouldn’t you? Why shouldn’t you have everything you want, Jenny? You could have a real marriage with him, children, more money than you’d know what to do with—”

“First of all, Aidan ‘asn’t asked me for any of that, and ‘e won’t. ‘E loves money. It’s everything to ‘im. Second of all, I want to marry ye. We ‘ad it all planned out, and I don’t see why anything should change. I’ve spent the night with other men. This isn’t any different.”

“You act as though you actually believe that.”

“Because it’s true. And if ye doubt me, then let’s get married now. Take yer carriage over to Doctors’ Commons, and we can marry this evening.”

Roland gave her a long look. “If your suggestion of marrying in haste with a special license is meant to comfort me, I assure you it has quite the opposite effect.” He leaned a hip on the desk. “Sterling certainly has you scared to make you run so.”

“Scared?” Her hands landed viciously on her hips. “ ‘E’s the last man to scare me.”

“Then there’s no rush.”

There was a tapping on the door, and Oscar opened it and poked his dark head inside. “I hate to interrupt.”

“No, you don’t,” Roland said. Oscar entered brandishing a paper. “I have the Morning Chronicle.”

“Rubbish,” Roland said.

“Rubbish people read,” Oscar added. “See here.”

Since Roland didn’t seem inclined to take the paper, Jenny held out her hand, and read aloud from the article.

“‘And finally, dear reader, a certain Lord C—, who is newly betrothed to a lovely miss, raised eyebrows when he was lately seen not once, not twice, but more than three times this past week in the company of a Mr. L—. The two seemed more than friendly, and as the miss was often seen with them, one must wonder if they are inspired by the example of the infamous late duke, and if we haven’t what the French like to call a ménage à trois in our midst.’”

“So now I’m sleeping with both of you,” Roland said.

“Wot duke do they mean?” Jenny asked.

“Must be Devonshire. He had the duchess and his mistress living under the same roof for years,” Roland said. Jenny rolled her eyes. She would never get used to the excesses of some of these nobs.

“I suppose I had better stay hidden away for a few weeks,” Oscar said, sounding wistful. “I shall work on a new painting.”

“Probably for the best,” Roland said, putting a hand on his arm. Everyone knew Oscar loved Society and attending the theater and the Vauxhall Gardens, which was where they had planned to go the next evening.

“I shall call it Solitude,” Oscar said.

“Or,” Jenny suggested, “we can quash the gossip and marry now. People may say whatever they like, but ye’ll ‘ave a marriage license to wave in front of anyone who challenges ye publicly.”

“Fine,” Roland said.

Jenny’s throat suddenly felt too tight, and it was difficult to swallow, difficult to breathe.

“I’ll go to Doctors’ Commons and fetch the license. And if I see no reason not to marry, we marry at the end of the week.”

Jenny’s gaze strayed to the calendar on the desk. Today was Tuesday, which meant she’d be a blushing bride in no more than four days.

***

“WELL?” OSCAR ASKEDthat night when the household had gone to sleep and all was quiet. He entered through a secret door that connected their chambers, and he was careful to close it now. Roland glanced at the other door to the room, noted it was locked, and then patted the bed. His servants were known for discretion and paid well. It was a necessity when one had priceless objects about. Roland knew a few probably suspected the true relationship between Oscar and himself, but he wouldn’t give them any proof.

“Well, what?” Roland asked, setting his book aside and turning to face Oscar.

“Did you go to Doctors’ Commons and fetch the special license?”

“Of course, I didn’t,” Roland said, settling back on his pillow as Oscar climbed under the covers beside him. “Jenny will marry me out of loyalty, but I can see now I was wrong to ever entertain the idea.”

Oscar propped his elbow on the pillow and then rested his cheek on it, facing Roland. “You couldn’t have known Aidan Sterling would walk into her life again. You didn’t even know they had a past.”

“I knew there was someone who’d hurt her. I knew part of the reason she wanted the marriage was to escape being hurt again. And I almost went through with it. She’d never forgive me if she were leg-shackled to me and couldn’t marry the man she loved.”

“Considering you’ve known her more than a decade and never seen her attached to any man or woman, you can hardly blame yourself for assuming there never would be anyone. But Aidan Sterling.” Oscar lay back and stared up at the ceiling. “The man is richer than the King.”

“I feel quite sorry for him.”

“Why?” Oscar looked at Roland. “He’s handsome and rich.”

“And alone. I walked through his house the other day. The servants were all busy cleaning, and I pretended I was lost. He has entire chambers that are completely empty or with furnishings wrapped in Holland covers. No one but his secretary ever comes to call on him. The earl’s family doesn’t do more than grudgingly acknowledge him as a by-blow of the last earl. I don’t think he knows his mother’s family.”

“Now you have me feeling sorry for him, except I just remembered he wants to steal Jenny away. Our little Jenny—”

“Can take care of herself. Besides, I don’t think the man knows what he wants, and if he wants her, he’d better be decisive.”

“Then she may marry you, after all.”

“I think we had better make another plan.”

“What’s that? Oh, Rollie! Could we go to Italy? You know I have always wanted to go to Italy.”

Roland blew out the candle and snuggled close to Oscar. “You and your lust for travel. I need to think about this. No rash decisions.”

“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

***

LORD JASPER WAS ATthe Draven Club. Aidan had asked Porter to notify him when the bounty hunter arrived. It was late, and Aidan was alone in his office. He’d finally allowed his clerks to go home. He didn’t need the papers writing about how he worked his staff to death. He gave the messenger a coin then gathered up his documents, straightened his desk, and headed out.

On the walk to the Draven Club, he passed several groups of young men laughing and calling to each other from carriages. They stumbled in and out of clubs drunk on wine or flush with their winnings from a night of gambling. Others sat in coffee houses discussing politics or horse racing or women. Aidan watched them almost as though they were another species entirely.

Though the son of an earl, he’d never had a carefree night with friends in his youth. He’d spent the first twelve years worried about his mother’s health, wondering why his father never came to see him, and doing his best in school as he knew it cost his mother dearly to send him. Then he spent four years stealing and starving and surviving only by luck and the kindness of Jenny Tate. The next decade was spent on the Continent, fighting for England. He’d made friends with the other Survivors then, but he’d never formed the sort of close friendships some of the men had. He expected every single one of his comrades-in-arms to die. He expected to die every day. The fact that some of his fellow soldiers had come home was a relief but also a quandary. How was he supposed to treat them now that they were no longer under fire?

Added to the uncertainty was the fact that he’d come home before many of them. When Nash Pope, their sharpshooter, had been blinded in a fight, Aidan had also been hit by a pistol ball. It was a minor injury. The ball had gone through his arm, but it was enough that he was sent home with Nash. Nash felt guilty for having to leave the other men. He felt responsible for their protection. Aidan, whose skills tended more toward stealing provisions, horses, and weapons, was less remorseful. Once he was back in London and on his feet again, he set about selling his commission and investing the money. He’d listened to the Duke of Mayne talk about investing. One could invest in shipping companies, imports or exports, mining for coal or iron or other minerals.

Most of the men in Draven’s troop were younger sons with no great fortune of their own. They’d be given small stipends and must make their own way in the world. That was why they were in the army, so even though Aidan had listened and not asked questions, some of the other men had, and he’d thought carefully about everything he’d learned. And then he’d put it to use.

Then the men he’d fought beside had come back, and he hadn’t known how to be with them. The only soldier he hadn’t felt that way about was Rowden. They’d always had an easy friendship as they had common interests in boxing. But the rest of his fellow soldiers often made him remember the war and the nights he’d spent shaking in fear and wondering if he’d survive the coming dawn. He didn’t want to be reminded of that time or that man, just as he hadn’t wanted to be reminded of the boy he’d been in the London rookeries.

But lately all of it had come flooding back into his life. Jenny was a powerful reminder that he’d once had nothing and been no one. And FitzRoy’s request to find this Harley was a subtle nudge back to those long, terror-filled nights when they’d all vowed to give their own lives to save the others. They’d joked about dancing with the devil in the morning, but Aidan had meant those promises. So had the others, especially the eighteen who had died.

He stopped before the Draven Club, climbed the stairs, and opened the door. Porter wasn’t there to greet him, which was unusual, but Aidan didn’t mind.

He heard Porter on the staircase carpeted in royal blue and waved a hand. “No need to come down, Porter.” If he could save the one-legged man from another trip up and down, Aidan would prefer to do so. He started up the stairs so that Porter wouldn’t come down. Porter started back up, and Aidan met him on the landing.

“Lord Jasper is in the dining room with Mr. Fortescue.”

“Thank you, Porter.” Aidan hadn’t seen Stratford Fortescue in what seemed like a year. He entered the paneled wood room with its low ceiling and whitewashed walls and spotted the two right away. They sat at one of the round tables covered in white linen. They had a bottle between them and two glasses.

“And he just keeps telling us ‘Dinnae fash, dinnae fash. It’s a scratch,’” Stratford said in a Scottish accent. “And then he went pale and—” Stratford noticed Aidan and paused. “Oh, hullo, Sterling. I was just telling Jasper about the time Nash shot Duncan.”

Aidan smiled. He’d heard the story, but he sat to listen again anyway. The conversation shifted to shared experiences in battle, and though Aidan generally hated remembering the war, tonight, the way Stratford and Jasper told the stories, the battles almost seemed like adventures.

Finally, Stratford rose to go, presumably home to his sleeping wife. Jasper finished his wine and began to rise, but Aidan put a hand on his arm. “Stay a moment, my lord, if you will.”

“Of course.” He sat back in his chair and gave Aidan a curious look.

“I believe congratulations are in order. I understand your wife is in the family way.”

“News travels fast. And people say women are the gossips.” He didn’t wear his mask as much as he’d used to, and he wasn’t wearing it tonight. The ravaged flesh of his face was pink where the fire had burned it. Another war wound, though this one was on the outside whereas most of them wore theirs inside. It was hard to look upon, but Aidan was still glad he felt comfortable enough to go without his shield, so to speak.

“What is this about?” Jasper asked. “I don’t have any money to invest, and you’ll have to speak to Phineas if you want the Lords to enact some law or other.”

Aidan felt as though he’d been slapped. “You think I only want to speak with you when I want something?”

“You don’t want something?”

Aidan sighed. “I do want something, but it’s advice. Not help making money.”

“I doubt you need any help in that area, and if you did, I wouldn’t be the man to go to. Is this about the little girl FitzRoy has been looking for?”

“He told me he went to you first.”

“He did, but I can’t take that on at the moment.”

“I’ve agreed to find her,” Aidan said, surprised at the vehemence in his voice. “I’ll find her.”

Jasper eyed him coolly. “You know that world as well as I. Probably better.”

“And yet I’ve been unsuccessful thus far.”

“My advice is to stop looking.”

Aidan raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t intend to start looking, but now that I have, I want to find her.”

“The harder you look, the deeper underground she’ll go. Unless you give her a reason to come out. I imagine Colin wants to put her in an orphanage.”

“Neil’s orphanage, which isn’t exactly a workhouse.”

“That’s a discussion to have with her later. For now, offer her something she wants.”

“What’s that?”

“What did you want when you were in her position?”

He’d wanted so many things, chiefly love and security. Instead, he said, “Blunt.”

Jasper nodded. “As I recall she helped FitzRoy find Lady Daphne. Offer a reward and see if that convinces her to crawl out of her hidey-hole.”

Which was precisely what Jenny had hinted about to the mudlarks last night. She was always a step ahead of him. “Good advice, my lord,” Aidan said standing. “I’m sorry to have kept you.”

But Jasper didn’t rise. He just looked at Aidan and waited. “What’s your real question? What I just told you”—he waved a hand—“you know all of that already.”

Aidan grasped the back of the chair and dug his fingers in. He’d always felt a certain kinship with Jasper. Perhaps because Jasper had spent so much of his time in the places and among the people Aidan knew. Perhaps because, despite being a lord, Jasper was the most unpretentious man he knew. Perhaps because Jasper had been injured risking his life to save another of their troop, and a man like that was rare.

“Why did you marry?” he asked.

Jasper’s brows went up in surprise. Aidan shook his head. “Never mind. Ridiculous question.”

“Sit down,” Jasper said.

“I think I’d prefer to stand.”

Jasper poured more wine. “It’s not a ridiculous question. I doubt you’ve ever asked a ridiculous question in your life.” He sipped the wine and considered Aidan. “There are only two reasons men in our position marry.”

“Men in our position?”

“Men who don’t need an heir for the title.”

“And what are those reasons?” Aidan asked, wishing he had taken a seat and poured himself more wine.

“Love or money.” Jasper sipped his wine again. “Olivia has no money, and I can make my own way, at any rate, so the answer is obvious. Which is it for you? I shouldn’t think you needed the money, but I’m not sure any amount would ever really satisfy you. Have you found a wealthy heiress?”

“Not even close.”

Jasper set the wine glass down. “It can’t be love.”

“It was a useless question,” Aidan said. “It has nothing to do with me. Give your wife and son my best,” he said, turning to leave. “I’m sorry to have kept you.”

“Let me know when Harley finds you!” Jasper called.

Aidan waved a hand and was finally away. He started home, ignoring the drunk young lords, but he passed one in a passionate embrace with a young woman, most likely a courtesan, and felt his heart lurch. What was waiting for him at home? An expensive bed where he would sleep all alone. Jenny’s scent would probably still be on the pillows. How was he supposed to fall asleep like that?

Before he could think what he was doing, he changed directions. He knew where Jenny lived. As soon as he’d seen her at Lady Birtwistle’s ball, he’d asked his secretary to find out where she resided. Aidan had told himself it was because he wanted to be certain she had decent lodgings.

Now he headed that way, walking quickly until he reached the door to the building housing her flat. He paused outside then and considered returning home. Putting his head down, he opened the door to the building and walked up the stairs, stopping outside her door before knocking loudly.

No one answered, so he knocked again. She was probably sleeping. He knocked again, and the door opened, leaving his hand to hang in midair.

“Are ye trying to wake the whole of London?” she demanded, looking up at him with tousled hair and cheeks pink from sleep.

“Just you,” he said.

“Come in before my neighbors complain to the landlord.” She pulled him inside and closed the door. She held a candle with one hand, and the faint light illuminated her white nightdress. Her unbound hair hung down her back, and she tapped one bare foot on the wooden floor. “Wot are ye doing ‘ere, Aidan Sterling? Should I even ask ‘ow ye knew where I live?”

“Probably not.” The nightdress wasn’t sheer, but the material was thin, and the neck left one shoulder revealed.

She caught the direction of his gaze. “I told ye last night was the only night.”

“You think I came for that?”

She raised a brow.

“Fine. It did cross my mind, but that wasn’t the only reason. We made a wager, and you lost.”

“Ye seemed quite willing to forgive my debt that night.”

“And you said you’d honor it. I want to lay some breadcrumbs for our friend Harley.”

“Ye don’t need me for that.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to miss out on the adventure.”

“I’m not seventeen anymore. But a debt is a debt. Give me a few moments to dress.” He made to follow her, but she held up a hand. “Alone.” She left him in near darkness in the small room which looked as though it served as a parlor or drawing room. The flat couldn’t have had more than two or three rooms. From what he’d glimpsed, this room was furnished with a few chairs and a couch. They looked as though they’d come with the flat. That made sense as Aidan couldn’t imagine Jenny picking out furniture.

In the dark all was quiet, but he heard a faint cooing sound, and looked toward the window. A large cage was positioned there, and he moved toward it, opening the shutter to let in a bit of moonlight. Two pigeons were inside, blinking up at him, looking sleepy.

“Planning to send more messages?” she asked, coming into the room and shining more light on birds with her candle. They were gray and brown with a bit of rust mixed in. Their necks were an unusual iridescent greenish blue.

“Are these also homing pigeons?” he asked.

“Yes, they’ll return to Roland’s town house and are useful if I need to send a message. I should probably do that now,” she said, moving toward a small table with scraps of paper on it and a pen. She scribbled a message, inserted it in a small backpack and opened the cage, allowing one pigeon to move onto her arm. The birds were wide awake now, sensing something interesting about to happen.

“What did you tell him?” Aidan asked.

“That I’ll be late coming in tomorrow morning and not to wait for me.” She fitted the backpack on the pigeon, opened a window, and waited for the bird to take flight. The pigeon  paused, tilted his or her head this way and that, and then, seemingly sure of the path, it took off. The remaining bird cooed, and Jenny said, “Ye’ll get yer chance.” She gave it what looked like a piece of dried fruit and looked up at him. “Ready?”

But once the pigeon had flown away, Aidan noticed what Jenny was wearing. She wore the trousers again with a white shirt and a man’s coat over it. Those trousers defined her legs nicely, and it was hard not to imagine her out of the trousers.

“Stop looking at me like that. One night, I said.”

“One night,” he repeated and forced his gaze away. He offered his arm, and she rolled her eyes at the gesture, instead stomping to the door, opening it, and cocking a hip impatiently. She moved just like a man—a somewhat curvy, delectable man.

He followed her down to the street, where she looked about. “No coach?”

“I walked.”

“Didn’t think nobs like ye knew ‘ow to use yer feet.”

He gave her a tight smile and hailed a hackney. When he gave the address, Jenny raised her brows. “That’s not the rookeries.”

“Not far outside, and she’s been seen in the area.”

She shrugged, folded her arms, and stared at him. “If this is a ploy to make me change my mind, it won’t work.”

“Change your mind about the one night?”

She raised a shoulder.

“I’d hardly put you in a hackney and drag you across town for that. Easier to seduce you in your flat.”

She snorted. “I won’t be seduced. I agreed to one night. We ‘ad our fun. I’ll be marrying Roland by the end of the week. ‘E went to fetch the special license today.”

That news rather alarmed Aidan, but he wouldn’t allow it to show. “Good,” he said.

The silence dragged on just long enough that he wondered if she would take the bait.

Finally, “Good? Wot does that mean? Good?”

“It means exactly what I said. It’s good that you are marrying.”

“Why?”

“So you’ll be taken care of, of course. I shouldn’t need to worry about you.”

She snorted again. “Oy, go on then. Ye weren’t worried. I can take care of myself.”

“Of course, you can,” he agreed far too readily.

“Ye don’t think so?”

“I said I did. It’s really a perfect arrangement for both of you. He needs you, and you need him.”

She looked as though she wanted to argue, but she made a sound of annoyance instead. Finally, the hackney slowed, and Aidan climbed out. He offered his arm to Jenny, but she hopped down without his assistance. While he paid the jarvey, she looked about.

It was a rather ordinary street lined with closed shops and yellow lights spilling out of taverns. A few men walked along the street, holding lanterns to cut through the dark. But this area of the city was quiet, unlike much of Mayfair. The people who lived here would need to wake early and go to work tomorrow.

The hackney pulled away, and Aidan pointed across the street. “There it is.” He gestured to a tavern with a picture of a tall ship on the sign hanging above the door.

“The Clipper,” Jenny read. “Why ‘ere?”

“She’s been seen here before, and more importantly, I’m hungry. I’ve heard the food here is excellent.”

“I should ‘ave known. Yer stomach always did lead the way.”

She followed him into the dark interior of the tavern, which looked much like any other she’d stepped foot in. There was one woman listlessly wiping a table and a few men sitting at tables, drinking or eating. The publican, a stocky, brown-skinned man with close-cropped wiry black hair, scowled as soon as they walked in. “I don’t know anything,” he said.

Jenny scowled right back. “Didn’t ask ye anything either, did we?”

“We came to eat,” Aidan said, smoothly.

“Sure ye did.” The publican went back to wiping the bar.

Aidan waited a moment and as no one came forward to show them to a table, Jenny finally stomped across the floor and chose one. She dropped into a chair. Aidan followed, sitting so his back was to the room. He didn’t like that position, but he supposed he should have gone first so Jenny couldn’t take that prime seat.

The tavern wench came over and leaned a bony hip on the table. Aidan raised a brow at her familiarity. “If yer ‘ungry, yer in the right place,” she said. “Our cook is the best. Pinched ‘im from the palace, we did.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “Two plates of whatever the cook is serving and”—he glanced at Jenny—“ale or something stronger?”

“Ale is fine.”

Aidan nodded at the serving woman, who sauntered off.

“Stop acting like a prig,” Jenny said.

“I am a prig.” The words had the desired effect, and she laughed. Aidan liked to see her laughing, and he felt as though his breath was stolen away by how beautiful she looked in that moment.

Jenny’s smile faded. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Why? You’d rather spend the rest of your life with a man who won’t look at you at all?” He hadn’t meant to say that. He didn’t even know why he did.

“And yer offering me something else?”

Aidan took a breath. “Maybe I am.”