Somebody To Love (7 page)
Authors: Kate Rothwell
“Your visit to my hotel the other day. I know you said you would pretend you did not overhear those men in the basement, but I want to make sure you’re not getting into some other sort of trouble. You or your friend.”
Annoyance flooded her. In four hours she would have to walk back to Kane’s establishmnt and begin her day’s work.
She pretended to give a wide, audible yawn.
“Very nice,” Griffin remarked.
“Can’t this wait until regular calling hours?”
“I am afraid not. It is best if Mr. Kane not know that you and I are acquainted. And I would rather not be seen visiting you in your home during regular hours. Your reputation, as I mentioned.”
“Oh.” She wondered that he was jesting. Didn’t he know what people usually thought of her? She was too aware of the world’s notions about a woman like her. “It is too late—about Mr. Kane, I mean. He came into my kitchen and asked me several questions about you. I told him that I barely knew you.”
Even in the dark she could see how he folded his arms and stared down his nose at her. “I am still convinced you should leave Kane’s establishment.”
“No. I can’t.”
“Come now, you do not require his money.”
The quiet, canny note in his voice told her he knew about her private funds. The money she loathed.
The man and his encroaching ways almost frightened her, and she allowed her temper to take over. “There is no reason for you to care whether or not I continue working for Kane. You don’t need to know my reasons for doing so.”
“Perhaps. Nevertheless, I am interested.”
He walked over to the gas lamp and drew out a tin of matches from his pocket. The lamp started with a soft pop and hiss.
He turned slowly on his heel, inspecting her parlor as if he were a potential buyer of the small watercolors her mother had painted, or perhaps the landlord’s rich, well-maintained furnishings. “Very nice. You have fine taste.”
Griffin turned and examined her with the same acquisitive air. The glow of the gaslight cast dangerous shadows on his face and turned his hair to spun dark gold.
Araminta folded her arms and wished she’d worn her winter flannel nightgown and thick dressing gown. Not the batiste gown and matching robe. More than just the chill and anger gripped her now. Her breasts prickled with awareness of the man.
“Nothing here is up for sale,” she said, meeting his gaze steadily.
His eyes sparkled. Could it be humor? “No, of course not. It might surprise you to learn I am not a covetous man. There are very few things I value enough to add to my permanent collection.”
Well, that was a warning of sorts, wasn’t it? She backed away from him.
Coffee. If he would insist on prolonging this strange nocturnal visit, she’d have to make some coffee. Or rather do something to keep herself from moving too close to him.
Without a word, she padded into the kitchen. The stove had enough embers, so starting a fire would be no problem. She fed it some coal, and then got down the mill from the shelf. She opened the sack of beans, put them in the mill and turned the crank. He leaned in the doorway and watched.
“Yes, good idea. Thank you, I would like some coffee.”
She snorted. “Fine time for you to start in on proper etiquette. Sit down and tell me what you want from me.”
He obliged; as he drew back the plain wooden chair it scraped loudly on the floor. “I don’t want anything. Yet.”
He leaned back in the chair, the habit of controlled sprawling, Araminta thought as she watchedt ithe corner of her eye. Calverson relaxed was as tense as a normal man ready for battle.
“Go on, tell me what you don’t want, then.”
“No need to sound so defensive, Araminta. I think we are not at cross-purposes. I wish to thwart Linder Kane. Without calling in too many favors from my New York friends, that is. And you wish to protect your friend, Miss, ah, Smith and somehow remove her from the house.”
The rasp and crunch of the grinder stopped as she turned and gaped at him. “How in God’s name did you ever—”
“I am not unobservant.”
“Hobbes. He must have told you.”
“I have never discussed the matter with him. No, I recently thought about your attitude toward my sister. You seemed to treat her more as a protégée than an employer. You appointed yourself her protector.”
She gave a humorless chuckle. “With a family consisting of you and that worthless father of yours, she needed some protection.”
“No longer.”
“No.” She agreed with a sigh and recalled Timona and her husband. McCann’s tender smile showed how he adored Timona. . . .
Araminta went to the kitchen sink, pumped water into the coffeepot and set it on top of the stove. Oh, my. She would give away her favorite recipes just to get a man she cared about to look at her with a smile like McCann’s. Ridiculous thought, since fate seemed determined that she care about a man who rarely indulged in smiles of any sort.
Griffin’s cool voice interrupted her yearning. “And so when I understood another lost lamb worked in your employer’s house—”
“She does not work there,” Araminta said.
“I beg your pardon. When I understood you had encountered another stray, I thought I’d discovered why you would continue working for a man you disliked. Am I wrong?”
She sat down as far from him as possible to wait, but the kitchen table, like the kitchen, was not large. Both seemed far too small at the moment. Griffin’s presence filled every corner of the room.
“No. You’re partially right,” she admitted at last. “Although contrary to what you think you know, I do need the money. And I also care about the people who work for me.” Fine. She decided it would not hurt to tell him more. As long as it would not give him any hold over her, she would share. “I agree, Smith is not her real name. I had thought perhaps . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she tried again. “I once thought of contacting a detective and hiring him to uncover the truth of Olivia’s past, but the poor girl seemed so eager to hide it. It hardly seemed fair to drag it up.”
“Who do you suppose she really is?”
She rubbed her eyes and stifled a real yawn. The gurgle of the coffeepot was a welcome sound. She climbed to her feet and got down the thick mugs. Thin, lovely porcelain for tea, a peasant’s mug for coffee. “I have no milk or cream. I don’t bother keeping any at home since I’m at Kane’s most of my waking hours. Sugar?”
He nodded. She placed a few misshapen lumps of sugar onto a plate. No special treatment for visitors who show up in the middle of the night.
“Olivia Smith,” he reminded her. “Tell me what you know of her and why you care about her.”
She waited, staring down at the coffeepot. What kind of interest could he have in Olivia? But nothing she knew would hurt the girl. After she’d poured coffee for eacs them, she sat down again. “She’s the daughter of someone wealthy.”
“Why do you believe that?”
“She’s well educated and she has that air of a girl brought up with wealth. Furthermore, I think she’s afraid someone will discover her real name and somehow contact her family.”
He swigged his coffee and watched her over the rim of his mug. “Perhaps. Although your theory has some problems.” He put down the mug. “If she is the daughter of a wealthy family, then why haven’t we heard of her disappearance? Why aren’t the police searching for her?”
“Maybe she’s lied to them? They might well think she’s safe in some school or on a journey.”
“How old is she?”
She wanted to demand his reasons for all of these questions, but perhaps he needed the answers to protect Olivia. “I’m not good at judging age. I suppose less than twenty, more than sixteen. And she refuses to tell me. She’s an innocent, though. A sheltered girl, or she was until recently. Oh, and she has recently contracted some sort of illness, I think.”
She described the way Olivia occasionally turned ashen and shook. “Sometimes she perspires so freely I worry for her.”
He was silent for a long moment, staring into the flames. “I wonder if it could be the sort of, ah, illness brought on by need.”
“What can you mean?” The only thing Olivia really needed was to get out of that place.
He shrugged. “Is she Kane’s mistress?”
She knew he would never pose such a question to a woman of his own social class. She swallowed a mouthful of coffee along with another sort of bitterness. “Yes, although he doesn’t spend many nights with her. She lives above the gaming rooms.”
“Does she love Kane?”
Araminta took a larger gulp of coffee and scowled. The coffee was too strong. And the idea anyone could love that man too absurd. “She is afraid of him.”
“You do not answer my question.”
“Can you truly love someone you fear?”
“Oh, yes, indeed you can, Araminta.” A corner of his mouth quirked.
“I suppose you’d know,” she retorted, fighting the quiver of awareness running the length of her spine. “I imagine some woman or another has passionately declared her love for you, and anyone sane would be at least slightly afraid of you.”
His face maintained its usual deadpan, but even in the light of a single candle she could see the glimmer of beguiling merriment in his eyes.
“Now why did I suppose you would not keep your promise to remain civil to me?” he asked as if talking to himself.
She couldn’t help grinning. “I’m afraid I do enjoy goading you.”
“I am curious. Why?”
She wrapped her hands around her mug as she considered the question. “I feel brave when I speak my mind to you, and a coward when I remain silent. I rather like the idea of poking the tiger on the nose.”
He tilted his head, and the shadow of a real smile crossed his face. “With an umbrella through the bars? Hardly seems sporting. And yet you must beware the tiger who roams free.”
“Yes, and you aren’t behind bars, are you?”
He did not answer, and in his silence, he reminded her of the beast she accused him of being, a waiverger of infinite patience and impassive jade eyes.
“You laugh at my jibes,” she pointed out.
“The shock of novelty.”
No, something more. Some recognition, or so Araminta guessed. Aloud she said, “Yes, I imagine the men you pay do not care to risk their jobs by crossing their master. And even your sister thinks you are close to perfect.”
“My friends suffer under no such illusions.”
She studied the face that might have been carved from stone. Without a trace of banter she softly asked, “Do you have friends, Griffin Calverson?”
He blinked, and a faint crease appeared between his eyes. She knew she had pushed too hard. The discussion was over. She ignored her disappointment that she’d made him angry. After all, his friends or any other aspect of his personal life could be none of her affair. And she needed her sleep. She swallowed the last of her coffee, hoping it would not keep her awake the rest of the night. Ha. The memory of Griffin in her house was probably more than enough to do that.
“Olivia,” she said briskly. “What do you propose to do?”
“Kane has made enough of a nuisance of himself that I think I will have to take some sort of action eventually.”
“What has that got to do with Olivia?” A sudden, horrifying thought came to her: could he be speaking of murder? She flinched at the thought.
He did not seem to notice. “I think that while I deal with Kane, I could be of some assistance to your friend.”
“Couldn’t we ask your friend, Mr. Hobbes?”
“Ah, Hobnail. I’m surprised he told you of our connection.”
“He didn’t, but it does not take a genius to see it after he stood guard for you this evening in the garden. He could simply take her out of that place.”
Griffin folded his arms. “Even if Miss Smith could be removed from Kane’s, where would you shelter her?”
“Here.”
“And what would keep Kane from sending a few lads over to rough you up and take back his property?”
“Oh.” She fell silent. “Nevertheless, I’m willing to risk it.”
“I am not, however. I have already sacrificed a part of Kane’s trust in Hobnail.”
She frowned. “How?”
“By having him to keep an eye on you, of course.”
She already knew that Griffin was responsible for Hobbes’s protection, but she liked hearing him admit it.
“I thought so. Why do you have him walk me home if I’m to be protected from Kane?”
“There are other dangers in the city for a woman. And it is a small matter to see you’re kept safe from more than just Kane.”
Rather than feel indignant at his interference in her life, she couldn’t keep from smiling. “It would have been better to protect Olivia.”
“Come now, you know Kane would not tolerate any interference with her.”
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