Master of Pleasure (6 page)

She burst into laughter. The man had earned her respect for life. “They are moving
much
faster now, thank you.” Turning to her son, who lingered on the steps, she called out brightly, “Go inside to Mrs. Henderson, dear. I’ll be right there!”

“What about Jesus?” he called back, holding out both hands and rattling them. “I want Jesus!”

“It’s Moses now, remember? Moses. Now give me a moment!” Gad. Half the street heard that. She turned to the gentleman who still silently waited and cringed. “He is going through a religious awakening. Very normal for children his age. I’m hoping he’ll outgrow it.”

His blue eyes continued to hold her gaze as if expecting her to say something worthy of his time. “Am I to understand you don’t support your child’s view of religion?”

Apparently, he was the religious sort. Most people were. Not that she was most people. Much like her aunt who had raised her after the death of her father, she was more of a freethinker. Neither a believer or a disbeliever.

When she was younger, her aunt had wisely taught her to hide their radical views which included being independent from not only the church but men. As for hiding her views now that she was older? Why bother? Everyone hated her anyway.

“It isn’t that I don’t support his view, sir, I simply want him to be well-informed before he makes a decision that will impact the delicate core of who he is. You cannot turn a boy into a leader if you insist he only follow. One would hope every mother would be as infinitely thoughtful as I.”

He stared.

She said too much. “Uh…can you please wait whilst I take the bear to him? I shall only be a moment.”

He shifted his scarred jaw. “Why do you want me to wait?”

My, was he ever serious. “I wish to speak to you.”

“About what?” he rumbled out.

Oh for the love of butterflies. “About your generosity. What else? Now might you wait?”

He skimmed her appearance, lingering for a moment on her stained apron, and then widened his stance. “All right. Go. I’ll wait.”

Leona awkwardly adjusted the apron around her waist with one hand, wishing she had taken it off before leaving the kitchen. She probably had flour in her hair, too, after her morning of making scones had been interrupted by the creditors banging on the door. She swiped at the sides of her hair. “I was busy in the kitchen all morning.”

He held her gaze. “I can see that.”

His level of intensity made it impossible for a girl to breathe. She edged away. “Excuse me.”

Turning, she bustled back to her son who still waited on the stairs. She wagged the bear at him, leaned down and kissed his head. “Here you are. As promised. Now please. Call him whatever you like, even Jesus, Mary and Joseph, but don’t ever say it outside the confines of your room.”

She lowered her voice. “Setting aside what I think, people are very sensitive about anything relating to God. It’s very personal, and we have to be mindful of how we make others feel. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mama.” He hesitated, then quickly leaned in close and whispered urgently from behind a small hand, “
What does fuck mean?
”

She gasped. He’d heard everything. “Don’t
ever
repeat that word! Do you want your poor bear to faint? The word shouldn’t even exist in the English language. Only rakes and bullies use it.”

He blinked, lowering his hand to protectively cover the ears of his bear. “But those men used it.”

She was such a sad example of a mother exposing her son to such men. “They only used it because they’re too stupid to know any better. Remember. How you conduct yourself in anger reflects the depth of your soul. Which is why we never use such words. Ever.”

Having been raised by her aunt, who was an overprotective country woman out to slap the world, Leona heard more than a few vile words uttered in her presence. But living these past six years amongst the middle classes in the big city of London, a girl learned all sorts of things she didn’t want to learn. “Now go inside and think of how fortunate we are. Someone actually cared enough to help us. That doesn’t happen every day.”

Grinning wide enough to show off all three missing teeth, Jacob took the bear and nuzzled it. “Did Papa send him to pay for everything?”

Leona stiffened. She hadn’t even thought of that. What if— Oh, no. Ryder would try to use this as an open invitation into their lives. An invitation he would
never
get. “It’s important I speak to this gentleman at once. Can you go upstairs?”

“Why?” Jacob used his chin to point beyond her. “Who is he?”

“I have no idea. But I plan to find out. Now please. Go upstairs.”

“What happened to his face?” Jacob eyed the man. “Why does it look like that? Did someone hurt him?” He pointed. “Look! His scar runs from his ear to his—”

Leona grabbed his hand, squeezing it and gently nudged him away. “It isn’t our business to know. Nor is it polite to delineate physical abnormalities. Now please. I made a whole batch of scones and ask that you go upstairs and eat. Mrs. Henderson will set a plate out for you.”

Jacob peered up at her. “Your scones hurt my teeth. They’re too hard.” He pointed to one missing tooth. “See?”

Leona cringed. “I will agree that my cooking is horrendous, but you and I both know your tooth was loose for weeks and my scone had nothing to do with it. Now go and…dip said scone into some tea and count to five. That should soften it. Because food is food.”

“Yes, Mama.” Jacob turned and trudged up the stairs, disappearing inside.

Letting out an exasperated breath, she swiveled on her slippered heel and paused, realizing the man was standing behind her. He had heard everything. Including the comment about his face. She shriveled at seeing his strained expression. “Forgive him. Jacob is only six and still learning how to conduct himself.”

“I hardly took offence.” His sun-toughened face now held a lethal calmness.

For all she knew Ryder sent this man. Her throat tightened. “Did someone send you to pay my debts? A certain gentleman from King Street?”

He stared. “No. You appeared to be in need of assistance so I offered it.”

Her lips parted. “Oh.” She was so relieved. Pathetic though it was, she had gotten to the point of preferring to owe complete strangers over Ryder. “Thank you, sir.” She offered a smile. “I must say, I was rather impressed with how you stuffed that banknote up his nose.”

A satisfied light came into those eyes. He inclined his head. “I did it with pride.”

She let out a calming breath. It had been so long since she bothered to interact with men. She had almost forgotten they were actually people. Not just walking penises. “Might I offer you some tea?” She was certain there were a few leaves in the cupboard. “I made scones this morning.” Hard as rock though they were. “Won’t you join us?”

He hesitated. Then shook his head. “No. I don’t have time.” Despite that, he lingered.

Sensing he wanted to accept, she smiled. “There is no need to be overly polite. We have plenty of scones. I made well over a dozen. Sixteen, to be exact. They came out a bit overcooked, so I really need to get rid of them.” Wait. She wasn’t really helping her cause, was she?

He adjusted his linen cravat with gloved fingers. “No. I already ate.” He still lingered.

It was obvious he was a man of few words. Fortunately for him, she was a woman of plenty. “Oh, come now. I can’t have food going to waste and I most certainly won’t be able to repay you in any other way.”

“I’m not looking to be repaid, madam.” He shifted his scarred jaw. “Will you be all right? Can I go now? Or did you need something else?”

Was this man real? He wasn’t even looking to exploit the generosity he had shown. It was so unbelievably…
nice
. “No. I…no. I uh…I don’t require anything else, thank you.” Strangely, she felt rather depressed letting him go. After all, this man was breathing proof that not all of humanity had been lost.

He lowered his chin. “Your tone leads me to believe you’re still in distress.”

His cool level of seriousness was charming, as if he were parenting the entire world. “I’m not. I was only— My aunt used to say real gentlemen are like fairies: they don’t exist. And yet here you are proving her and me wrong.”

He studied her. “And what makes you think I’m a gentleman?”

Was he flirting with her? She couldn’t tell. “I could be wrong.”

“Yes. You could be. Be wary of the men you compliment. This world is full of deviants.”

She snorted. “Oh, come now. You speak as if I were attractive enough to lure in deviants. Maybe seven years ago that might have been true.
Maybe
.” She angled both hands before herself. “I had a glorious waist worth whistling at. Sadly, I’ve gained a few stone after having my son. The corset strings don’t pull half as tightly as they used to.”

An inexplicable look of withdrawal came over his face. “Are you prone to insulting yourself?”

“Sometimes.” She dropped her hands to her sides and puffed out an exasperated breath. “It’s been a long day and it’s not even noon. Have you
ever
had creditors call on you? They dig through everything. Poor Mrs. Henderson’s flat is a mess. I’ll be cleaning it for days.”

He said nothing.

She quirked a brow. “Are you certain you don’t want any scones?”

“Quite.” He edged back. “You seem well-educated and appear to live in a fairly decent neighborhood. Why do you owe money?”

How had her life become this pathetic? Here she was standing on the street between the shuffle of peddlers, explaining her financial situation to a stranger. “I was putting everything on credit thinking I’d get a chance to pay for it, which, of course,
never
happened. It’s been a few months and I still haven’t been able to find work. No one will hire me.”

“I see.” He squinted, crinkling the scar on his face. “I’ll only be in London for another eight weeks, but maybe I can help.”

This man was putting all the local charity houses to shame. “Oh, no, no. Please. That won’t be necessary. You’ve already done more than enough.”

“I will decide when it’s enough. And it isn’t enough.” He widened his stance. “What do you usually do in an effort to earn a wage?”

May she keep herself from rattling that face in appreciation for what appeared to be genuine concern. He would be the first. “Well, I…there isn’t a thing I haven’t done. I’ve serviced kitchens and drawing rooms alike these past few years. As long as the pay is worth more than two shillings a week, I’ll take up whatever household drudgery there is.”

He glared. “Two shillings a week? Why not sign up for slavery out of Africa? What the devil is wrong with you? I would never pay a wage
that
low.” He adjusted his coat, his features softening. “Mr. Holbrook and I share quarters. Given his dire financial situation, he is down to only one servant, has no clean clothes and eats in pubs I won’t even go near. If you’re willing to take on the responsibility of cleaning, cooking and tending to the house we are leasing, I can start you out at five pounds a week for however long I’m in London. Are you interested?”

She blinked. Rose buds. He was offering her a position
merely
because she needed one. Who was this man? “Five pounds a week? For cooking, cleaning and laundry?”

“Yes. To be paid every Saturday. By me.”

She refused to trust it. “Might I ask why the pay is so inflated? Not even a lady’s maid in the highest of circles makes more than fifteen shillings a week.”

“I know. There is a reason.” He swiped his gloved knuckles across his chin. “I’ve been at the house for a little over two months now, and it’s alarmingly obvious despite the servant Mr. Holbrook keeps, it’s
never
been cleaned. There are still chamber pots in some of the rooms that haven’t been washed out from the previous owners.”

Ew. “I may struggle with that one. I don’t even like cleaning my own porcelain.”

He arched a brow. “I don’t expect you to clean any of them. We’re grown men and can take care of our own, thank you. All I ask is that you tend to cooking and the cleaning of the house. If you take the position, I promise to pay five pounds a week
and
a bonus of twenty.”

“
Twenty
?” Her pulse skittered. That was a lot of money. Enough to get her and Jacob out of London and into Shrewsbury well before summer.

She eyed him. “When would I get the bonus?”

“The moment you impress me.”

She wasn’t sure she liked the suggestive tone in his voice. “We are still talking about my ability to clean chamber pots, right?” she asked, spacing her words evenly.

His mouth tightened. “Last I knew. Why? Are you talking about something else?”

“No. Of course not. Why would we be talking about something else?”

“You tell me.” He stared. “Do you have any references?”

She cringed. “No. I was terminated without any.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“Nothing. I was loyal and worked very hard for every person who ever hired me.”