“No,” Penny answered softly. “He only made me wait an excessively long time.”
The poker swished through the air. “Next time you need to give me the address that you’re going to. And a name so that I can find you.”
Penny might have laughed at Clarissa’s concern if she didn’t share some of her fears. Men had offered to help her orphans for a price before and they likely would again. She had to confess she was relieved the Earl of Goldthwaite had not. And she liked him a bit better for it.
“No one is running me through,” the earl said from his spot next to the door. “I’ve agreed to finance your orphanage, so I’d advise you to put the poker down.”
Belatedly, she realized that he still held her other hand. Even with their gloves acting as barriers, the touch warmed her.
Surprise widened Clarissa’s eyes before they narrowed into slits. “He did make you do things, didn’t he?”
“No.” Penny let go of his hand, disappointment and the cold air making her shiver.
“What things are we talking about?” Goldthwaite asked, sounding amused rather than irritated. “I want to know about these things.”
“So do I,” another male voice called from the shadow between their house and the next.
“Me too,” a second called and then four men stepped out from the shadows.
Penny gasped, stepping in front of Clarissa without thought.
But even as she moved, Goldthwaite stepped in front of both of them. His relaxed posture was gone, in its place a man carved from stone, so hard that he might have frightened her, except he didn’t. In this situation she found his hard veneer immeasurably comforting.
“I’m going to need that poker,” he rumbled out low and deep.
If he’d blown in like a storm when they’d first met, now he was the picture of icy calm as he reached his hand back. Clarissa set the poker in Penny’s hand and she passed it forward, the metal settling in his large grasp. Goldthwaite took it and swung it in a wide arc in front of him.
The driver jumped down too and pulled two pistols from his coat.
But it was the earl who spoke. “Unfortunately for all of you, this was a private conversation.”
The other men stopped at the sight of the pistols, standing in a line in front of them, fanned out, looking large and intimidating. “Who is this bugger? We’ve all been trying to catch Miss Walters alone for months. And now you get to do things?”
“How is that fair?” another called.
“The rich get everything in this city.”
Penny couldn’t see who spoke, but she didn’t want to either. Her father had purposefully lived close to the docklands to help treat the poor as well as the rich. But as the area grew increasingly packed it also grew less safe.
“Miss Walters, take your charge inside now. I shall send the carriage to collect you at our appointed time,” Goldthwaite said, his voice still calm but it held an edge that spoke volumes. Do not disobey.
Her breath caught. “But you could be hurt.”
“We’ll be just fine.” He didn’t look back. “But when we meet next, we shall discuss your habit of walking.”
Clarissa began pulling her toward the door. “You know, I think I like him.”
Penny looked back as he swished the poker through the air once again. Despite herself, she might like him too. He looked like a stone statue, but he’d agreed to help her. That counted for something. And now he was defending her and Clarissa. That meant a great deal.
“He certainly doesn’t like you,” she said. “You threatened him with a poker.”
“Well,” Clarissa huffed. “At least, I didn’t heat it first.”
And behind her, she heard him chuckle. Low and deep. Her stomach flopped but she didn’t look back again as she pushed Clarissa through the door and shut it, sliding the bolt in place.
Chapter Three
Back home, Logan worked by the light of several candles. It had to be well past midnight, but he’d managed to clear the pile of papers on his desk. He’d not be able to sleep anyhow, he mused, as he stared at the last remaining bit of correspondence.
The evening had been far too…interesting.
A beautiful woman and band of hooligans. Once Miss Walters had bolted the door and his driver had cocked the pistols, they’d dispersed in short order and he’d left. He’d accomplished his goal of seeing her home and learning more about Penny Walters. Still, she lingered in his thoughts.
A letter in front of him caught his gaze. It may very well hold some of the answers to questions that had been swirling all night in his head.
It was from Daring.
Sliding the letter opener through the wax seal, he unfolded the missive and scanned the contents.
No answers.
Just more questions.
Daring had invited him to a dinner at his home the next evening. He said he had some potential partners for Logan to meet.
Good news…possibly.
But he also insisted that Goldthwaite bring Miss Penny Walters to the dinner. He gave no explanation. Logan tossed down the paper.
He didn’t want Penny at that dinner. He rubbed his face, trying to discern why. She was exceptionally lovely and obviously in need of help. There would be several men there in a position to give her the aid she required, but also men who could take advantage of her beauty and kind nature.
He thought back to their conversation about doing things. Had men propositioned her to trade favors for donations?
Of course they had.
It made his blood boil to think about it. Pulling out an ink and quill, he quickly penned a note to Daring. He’d already financed Miss Walters’ project. She need not attend.
But then he thought about her words and where she lived. The truth was, she needed far more money than he’d supplied. Still, men of the peerage were ruthless, including him, and she need not suffer any more of his kind.
He thought back to his school days. One boy in particular, the future Baron of Blackwater, had made his life a living hell. He’d hidden Logan’s shoes to make him late for class and get the switch. He’d tossed Logan’s books, ones he couldn’t afford to replace, in the privy. And later, when Logan had learned not to react to all these barbs, the older boy had begun to beat Logan almost daily. He was always sporting some bruise or another.
Men were cruel. Women like Penny should be protected from abuse.
He carefully dusted the note, folded it, and sealed the letter shut. He’d have it delivered first thing in the morning.
Stretching, he left his office and made his way to his bedchamber.
The large room had a massive bed in the middle and he stared at it. Despite the exhaustion weighing down his limbs, he’d never wanted to climb into it less.
It looked…lonely.
He shook his head, scrubbing his scalp with his hands.
He’d taken pride in filling that bed all on his own. Logan had a lovely suite next door for his future bride. He’d never planned to have a bedmate.
He’d begun inquiries into several well-to-do families. The beginning stages, of course. But his sons, when he had them, would not be victims of society. They’d have an impeccable pedigree.
Shrugging off his shirt, he sat down to take off his boots. Stripping the rest of his clothes off, he climbed into the center of the bed and stared at the canopy. What now?