A Kiss In The Dark (21 page)

In many ways, she reminded him of his mother.

But it could never be. The whispers and rumors about her, no matter how unfounded they might be, would prevent any relationship. Even taking her as a mistress would be too risky. If he wanted to remain Emily’s guardian, he had to avoid scandal of any sort, and it seemed that “scandal” was Lady Rotherby’s middle name.

No, after all this was over and they’d found Emily, he would thank the viscountess for her trouble and move on as if this time with her had never occurred. And if over the passing years his mind sometimes wandered to a green-eyed enchantress who had briefly managed to stir all his most passionate feelings with one sweet kiss in the dark, no one need ever know.

But how on earth was he going to keep his hands off her until then?

A
s Deirdre stood on the sidewalk in front of the Rag-Tag Bunch’s hideout early the next morning, she found herself wondering once again how she ever could have believed she would be able to allow Tristan into her life without endangering her heart and her peace of mind.

She was inclined to think that she must have been temporarily mad, and now she was suffering the consequences.

After a night spent tossing and turning, plagued by disjointed dreams, she had awakened at dawn even more exhausted than she’d been upon going to bed. Her heated encounter with her unwanted houseguest had left her feeling raw and vulnerable, her body tingling in an extremely unsettling manner. Visions of the two of them entwined had tormented her for most of the night, and one look in the mirror at her pale complexion and shadowed eyes was enough to tell the tale.

Not that Tristan had seemed to notice. She glanced over at him as he stood next to her, staring up at the derelict building before them. Resolved not to let him know how much he’d affected her, she’d spent the time while she was getting ready steeling herself against his potent charms, only to discover upon joining him downstairs that the seductive scoundrel of last evening had vanished. He had once more retreated behind that wall of reserve, his gaze remote and unreadable, and despite herself, she couldn’t deny a strong sense of disappointment.

“Who lives here?”

At his question, she shook off her musings and lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “Some friends of mine. I’m hoping they might be able to help us.”

That was only partly true. Though the Rag-Tags could be as capable as Dodger Dan’s men when it came to digging up information, it had been worry that had drawn her here this morning. After everything that had happened in the past couple of days, it would ease her mind to check in with them. And if they could offer any insight into Emily’s whereabouts, so much the better.

Leveling Tristan with a serious stare, she continued. “I must have your promise that once we’re inside, you’ll be quiet and stay in the background as much as possible. It’s going to make them skittish enough having a stranger in their midst. As a rule, the Rag-Tag Bunch tends to distrust anyone they don’t know, so the more unobtrusive you are, the better.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “The Rag-Tag Bunch?”

She didn’t bother to elaborate. She would gain his promise if she had to pry it from him. “Your word as a gentleman, my lord?”

His jaw hardened, and it was a moment or two before he finally inclined his head in a stiff, affirmative nod.

Grateful for small favors, Deirdre turned to face Cullen, who still stood next to the carriage. “Wait here, Cullen. We won’t be too long.”

She waited until the coachman nodded and touched his cap in deference before pivoting and starting around the side of the building, leaving Tristan to follow.

He fell into step behind her, his large form a steady bulwark at her back as she entered the darkness of the alley. She had to admit she was glad for his solid presence. As much as his arrogant attitude tended to frustrate her, she couldn’t deny that the man made her feel genuinely safe and protected.

“Are you certain there’s anyone here?” he asked, surveying the boarded-up windows with lowered brows. “It looks deserted.”

“That’s rather the point.” At the rear door, she stopped long enough to deliver two short, sharp raps before pushing it open and stepping inside.

An instant barrage of greetings deluged her from all corners of the room as the boys came running to gather around. She smiled at their enthusiasm, for it warmed her heart to know that they were honestly glad to see her. Their affection and trust were just a few of the things that made her sometimes thankless quest seem worthwhile.

“Lady R, what are you doing ’ere?”

“Did you bring us anything?”

“Did—”

The clamor abruptly ceased as Tristan filled the doorway, his towering form blocking out the early morning light. Jaws dropped and eyes rounded with apprehension as all attention focused on the outsider who had unexpectedly joined them.

So much for being unobtrusive.

Then, from the edge of the group, freckled Miles let out a low whistle. “Cor! ’E’s bloody ’uge, ain’t ’e?”

Smothering a laugh at Tristan’s disgruntled expression, Deirdre looked down to find Benji clinging to her skirt like a limpet, his little face filled with awe.

“Who’s that, m’lady?”

“It’s all right. He’s a friend, Benji.”

He tilted his head to study Tristan with interest. “Is ’e a giant, m’lady?” he breathed. “Like in that story you told us about David and Goliath?”

“Of course not, darling.” Although he did rather resemble one, she thought with inner amusement. He had to duck to even enter the building, his head barely missing the low frame, and once he was inside he seemed to fill the entire room with his commanding aura.

Clearing her throat, Deirdre made the introductions. “Boys, this is Tristan, my new … footman. Tristan, this is the Rag-Tag Bunch, the most talented gang of pickpockets the streets of Tothill Fields has ever seen.”

To her surprise, Benji let go of her and approached the man who stood with his hands on his hips, brow lowered in an almost intimidating manner.

“’Ello, Mr. Tristan,” the little boy piped up, seeming not at all afraid of the large stranger looming over him. “My name’s Benji.”

Her maternal instincts surging to the fore, Deirdre took a protective step toward them, her gaze meeting Tristan’s pleadingly. But she needn’t have worried. His face softened, and he hunkered down to the boy’s eye level with a smile. “Hello, Benji. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“You’re friends wiv m’lady?”

“You might say that.” Tristan sent Deirdre a sly glance.

Her thoughts flashing back to last night, she ducked her head, her cheeks flushing. Leave it to him to remind her of the incident just when she’d managed to put it out of her mind.

As Benji continued to converse with their visitor, the other boys gradually started to relax, though many of their expressions remained wary. Once again, they began to inundate Deirdre with excited queries, and Nat, the gang’s second in command, approached her with a grin. “We were just getting ready to ’ave breakfast, m’lady. Would you like to join us?”

“That would be lovely, Nat.” Though she and Tristan had sat down to a light repast before departing the town house, neither of them had been able to eat much.

As one of the younger boys moved to ready a place for them, she scanned the group around her, searching for one face in particular. When she didn’t immediately see him, she turned back to Nat with an inquiring look. “Where is Peter?”

The instant she spoke, the atmosphere in the room seemed to abruptly change to one of tension, and Nat exchanged an uneasy glance with the boy closest to him before replying. “’E’s … er, out, m’lady.”

“When will he be back?”

“I’m not certain, m’lady. It may be quite a while.”

His evasive answers left Deirdre puzzled, but she quelled the urge to question the boy further. “All right. I’ll just wait here until he returns then, shall I?”

Looking alarmed, Nat shook his head. “That might not be a good idea, m’lady. ’E could be gone most of the day.”

His response roused her suspicions. Something was definitely wrong here. It wasn’t like Peter to leave the boys alone for very long.

Narrowing her eyes, she surveyed the room once more and felt a jolt of concern when she noticed that Jack appeared to be missing as well. Though she could only consider that a blessing, she had to wonder about it. Had something happened between the two oldest members that the younger boys couldn’t tell her about?

“Who’s Peter?”

At the question, she looked up to see Tristan approaching with Benji at his side. The rest of the lads immediately moved out of his path, eyeing him with distrust, but Benji’s small hand was firmly tucked in the earl’s large one.

Deirdre felt a brief tug at her heartstrings as she watched them come closer. She never would have guessed Tristan could be so good at dealing with small children. He had a true gift for earning their confidence, and she had seen it displayed twice in as many days. First with Gracie McLean, now with Benji. The man never ceased to surprise her.

“Who’s Peter?” he repeated as he stopped at her side.

It was Benji who answered. “’E’s our leader. But ’e isn’t ’ere now. ’E went out with—”

“Benji,” Nat cut in sharply. “Why don’t you go ’elp Davey wiv breakfast?”

“Okay.” The little boy released Tristan’s hand and scampered off.

Deirdre stared after him, trying to hide her growing worry. What had Benji been about to say? Who was Peter out with? Jack? Was it possible that the Rag-Tags’ leader had allowed the older boy to convince him to go out on the job again?

But she dismissed that notion almost right away. Peter had promised her he wouldn’t do so for a while, and he always kept his promises. Despite his chosen profession, he had more integrity than anyone else she’d ever known.

A hand on her elbow drew her attention, and she looked up to find Tristan studying her with probing intensity, a question in his eyes.

He was too bloody observant by half, she thought, but she couldn’t tell him of the reason for her disquiet. Not right now. His curiosity would just have to wait to be appeased. With a shrug, she allowed him to lead her to a seat at the table.

After he seated himself beside her and the boys joined them, Deirdre turned back to Nat with a forced air of casualness. She was determined not to reveal her suspicion, but she was equally determined to ferret out the truth of the matter if she could. “It’s not like Peter to be gone for such a long length of time, Nat. Is anything wrong?”

“Wrong?” The boy’s face was all innocence, but that didn’t fool Deirdre. She could see the nervousness behind the façade. “Nothing’s wrong. We were just surprised to see you, that’s all. Not that we aren’t glad you’re ’ere. Right, boyos?”

There was a murmured chorus of assent from the rest of the lads, but except for Benji, sitting on the other side of Tristan, not one of them sounded convincing.

“Well,” she drew out slowly, her gaze traveling around the table and resting on each boy in turn, “I should hope that if anything
were
wrong, you all would know you could come to me about it, no matter what it is.”

“Oh, we do, m’lady,” Nat assured her in a gruff tone, and there was a note of sincerity in his voice that gave Deirdre at least some measure of relief. In his own way, Nat was as honorable as Peter, and he couldn’t lie convincingly to save his life. She had to believe that if it were a life-threatening situation, he would tell her. She would have to be satisfied with that for now.

But that didn’t mean she was giving up. Perhaps before she left she could get Benji alone for a few minutes and see if she could glean any information from him. It may turn out that she was worrying for nothing.

In the meantime, she had other things to concentrate on. Such as the search for Emily.

“Actually, I had a reason for stopping by today. There is something I’m hoping you can help me with.”

Nat seemed relieved at the change of subject. “We’d be glad to ’elp if we can, m’lady. After everything you’ve done for us, it’s the least we can do.”

“I’m looking for someone. A young girl who has run away and seems to have taken refuge here in Tothill.”

For the second time that morning, her words provoked a surprising reaction in the Rag-Tag Bunch. They all froze, and Miles, who had just taken a bite of his food, choked and had to be pounded on the back by the lad next to him.