Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (27 page)

intimacy of the afternoon.

Brandon placed the basket in front of her and Nora distributed the gifts. There were oranges for the children along with a wooden toy for each of them. For Mary there was a small leather pouch that jingled with coins. Her eyes glistened with tears.

Too soon it was time to leave, but Nora had one more stop

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Pickpocket Countess

to make. Bravely, she hugged the children and made promises to Mary to send more food, wondering all the while how she'd manage it.

Seven

watched The Cat make her farewells, the children clinging to her and to him. Anna had him about the legs. He'd had a

good time with the children. He'd been moved by their delight over the simple fare and gifts. But those had been smaller revelations compared to what he'd about The Cat.

His sharp-tongued thief was the very soul of compassion, reaching out with all she had at her disposal. He felt something of a cad to have so verbally doubted her motives. Guilt gnawed at him. He couldn't help but compare the extravagant and wasteful largesse of the Squire's ball to the simple surroundings he found himself in today.

The Cat, a common thief, had provided for these people.

What had he provided? He had far more at his command and what had he done?

The Cat intrigued him more than ever. He wanted to know who she was. The secret of her identity was creating a feverish mystery he was desperate to solve. But he was no closer to that answer than he'd been last night. She hadn't trusted him enough to remove her mask all day, although the veiling had come off briefly at Mary Malone's.
As well she might,
his

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Pickpocket Countess

science reminded him sharply.
What would you do you knew
who she was?

It was a valid question, one for which Brandon did not have a ready answer. He should place her under arrest. That had been his plan less than twenty-four hours ago at the Christmas ball.

Had his plan succeeded last night, these people would have been denied the happiness she brought today. He thought of the boys delighting in the simple wood toys and Mary gratitude for the hot meal. In one fell stroke, he would have taken all that away from them.

It was a sober reckoning to grapple with. When had the villain become the hero? Somewhere between playing swords with the boys and watching The Cat stir Christmas soup over a fire, his priorities had begun to shift. He was no longer as interested in exposing The Cat as he was in protecting her.

Brandon turned to the remarkable woman beside him when Mary

door finally closed behind them. 'You've given them something special today; something to take into the morning.' To his disappointment, her veils were back in place.

'We've given them a moment. That is as far as our meagre influence can reach.' The self-deprecation in her voice stunned Brandon. She believed her efforts were minimal at best.

He offered reassurance. 'Yet you went and offered that moment anyway. It is more than most people would have done.'

She said nothing and Brandon let the conversation die.

Outside, enough rays of daylight were left to see them out of the tenements and back to the wide avenues of affluent Manchester, but the trip home would be conducted in the dark. Not that Brandon was worried. On Christmas night the short road between Manchester and Stockport-on-the-Medlock would be devoid of highwaymen.