Simon had meant to stop by the school on his way to work the following afternoon. After all, it was less than a mile from his office, which made it practically right on his path.

Yet, somehow he found himself tying his horse to a post in the middle of the day, hours before he was expected in the office.

Since he had already promised Miss Grenville that he would visit, doing so as soon as possible was merely an expedient way to cross tasks off the list of today’s responsibilities.

Not to mention the very logical reasoning that if the point was to speak to Molly, not Miss Grenville, then the only practical course of action was to arrive before the students were abed.

After all, Simon had no wish to have to call upon the school a third time, did he?

None of which explained why his no-nonsense stride from the street to the front door felt less like a Bow Street inspector interviewing yet another innocent victim, and more like a flustered gentleman paying an unexpected call upon a lady.

Balderdash.

Simon did not pay calls upon ladies. Or anyone at all. He had no time for idle fraternization.

Not because he disliked people—quite the opposite. He dedicated his life to rescuing them. Bringing them justice. Keeping them safe. Watching over them from a quiet, impartial distance.

Yet some circumstances called for a more personable approach. That was it. He was just an officer, paying a one-hundred-percent work-related call. No hidden motive beyond speaking with the victims.

One of which had brained her attacker senseless with nothing more than a humble broom.

Simon adjusted his cravat. Whether Miss Grenville was a spitfire remained to be seen.

The door swung open. Just as the night before, no butler or housekeeper attended callers, but rather the headmistress herself.

Simon bowed. “Good afternoon, Miss Grenville. I trust the rest of your evening passed much more peacefully?”

“I’ll send for Molly at once,” she said without curtseying. Her eyes twinkled. “I thank you for both your service and your punctuality. She has been looking forward to your visit all day.”

Before he could so much as blink, Miss Grenville motioned to a young girl in a frayed pinafore, who immediately raced up a somewhat lopsided staircase and disappeared into the next floor.

Miss Grenville turned back to him with a brisk nod. “There. She will be down any moment. We won’t keep you long.”

“She needn’t rush,” he found himself saying. “I’ve nothing but casework awaiting me.”

Miss Grenville gave him a long, considering look.

Simon straightened. He had the distinct impression this young lady was taking his measure in the same careful, detailed way he had taught the other men on the force.

Something like: Hat, medium quality. Not rich, not poor. Hair, a bit too long—too much time between visits to the barber. Jaw, clean-shaven. Suit, waistcoat, cravat, well-tailored and pristine. He was an inspector, not a beadle or a street watchman. And he had returned, just as he’d promised.

“Forgive me.” Miss Grenville dropped a curtsey elegant enough to rival a duchess. “We have just finished lessons, and I’m afraid my mind was with administrative responsibilities, and not on my manners.”

Simon could scarcely fault her for a trait his colleagues would claim he himself had perfected, so he merely tipped his hat. “There is nothing to forgive. A strong focus on one’s duty is a worthy quality indeed.”

“Is it? ’Twould be better if I could do less focusing, more achieving, but, well… Someday, things will turn around. I would invite you to tea, but we don’t often take it.” She pushed the door open wider. “But you can still come in. As long as you aren’t expecting crumpets.”

“I despise crumpets,” he assured her. “Ghastly things. Make me sneeze worse than cats.”

“Well, if you ever find yourself with a surplus, I am certain my girls will be happy to dispose of them for you.”

“Duly noted,” he promised, and stepped across the threshold.

The interior of the school in many ways resembled Miss Grenville’s wardrobe. One need only look past the worn edges and superficial damage to recognize the beauty beneath.

Although the gilt had long been stolen from the moldings, nothing could hide the original abbey’s magnificent structure, the stunning artistry, the welcoming openness.

Laughter filled the air, ringing joyfully through the rafters as dozens of booted feet tiptoed down the stairs in unison.

“I sent for Molly,” Miss Grenville scolded her charges, without bothering to hide her wide smile. “Not the rest of you meddling wretches.”

“We all want to see the Runner,” one of the girls said gleefully. “Molly says he rescued her!”

Although the officers at Bow Street preferred to be thought of as inspectors, not Runners, Simon saw no need to be priggish. Instead, he gave the entire staircase of pinafored girls a sweeping bow. “Merely doing my job, ladies. I am ever at your service.”

“Wonderful.” Eyes laughing, Miss Grenville turned her wagging finger toward Simon. “Now they’ll all swoon over constables the way other ladies used to swoon over soldiers.”

“Why isn’t your waistcoat red?” asked one of the older girls. “Ain’t that why Runners are called Robin Redbreasts?”

“That would be the Horse Patrol, miss,” Simon explained. He doubted scarlet-accented patrolmen were frequently spotted in this neighborhood. “I’m afraid inspectors do not wear a uniform.”

“Gold waistcoats is nicer than red anyway,” another girl said with a deep blush.

“Now, now,” Miss Grenville interrupted. “As handsome as he is, Mr. Spaulding isn’t here to flirt with you. Where’s Molly? She’s the reason for this visit.”

Simon was careful not to display his pleasure at the realization Miss Grenville thought him handsome. He affected a serious expression. As she rightfully pointed out, he was not here for flirtation. The sooner he returned to his desk, the better.

“I’m here,” a girl called out at the top of the stairs.

As she picked her way through the pack, Simon took in the whole picture.

The boarding school appeared to have a solid foundation, but little money. Molly was clearly not a special case amongst the students. Miss Grenville’s charges were indigent inhabitants of a rookery, not the offspring of wealthy families.

What a worthy cause. He could not help but admire Miss Grenville’s pluck and protective instincts.

The only other institutions that might welcome these children were workhouses and orphanages—both of which were notorious for being little improvement over life on the street. A sobering percentage of their dependents never reached adulthood.

When Molly reached the foot of the stairs, she clasped her hands together and bobbed an awkward curtsey, as if it were one of the first occasions of her experience in which social propriety might require such a thing.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “If you hadn’t rescued us from that awful man, ma’am wouldna rescued me from my awful life.”

“She rescued me, too!” called one of the girls from the crowd upon the stairs.

“Rescued all of us!” shouted another.

“If you hadna come by when you did,” Molly continued quietly, “I know what that man was goin’ to do. He told me.”

Simon forced his anger below the surface. He knew precisely how that malefactor had intended to treat this young girl. If it were up to Simon, men like that would never be released from gaol.

Molly took a deep breath. “I understand men like him. But I didn’t know what you was going to do. I never met a Runner before.”

His heart thumped as he struggled for the right words to say.

“I didn’t ’spect you to come back—no constable ever comes back—but when ma’am says you stopped by, just as you promised… Last night, I didn’t believe her when she says good men do exist.” Molly stared up at him with shimmering eyes. “Today, I do.”

Simon swallowed the lump in his throat. “It is my hope that from this day forward, your life is full only of goodness.” He glanced up at the rest of the girls. “You deserve it. All of you.”

“Thank you.” Molly blushed and ran back into the crowd of girls.

“That’s enough distraction for one day.” Miss Grenville made shooing motions at the children. “Back to your studies. You’ve much to do before supper.”

“Goodbye, Runner!” one of the girls called over the handrail.

“I like your waistcoat, too!” yelled another, causing the rest to explode into cackles of laughter.

The entire group thundered up the stairs in a cloud of pinafores and giggles.

“They’ll curtsey next time,” Miss Grenville promised him. “We’re still working on ‘taking our leave.’”

“Are you?” he asked, more seriously than he intended. “Is this the sort of finishing school that focuses on the different types of curtseys and how best to flutter one’s painted fan?”

“Not in the least,” she responded cheerfully. “Most of these girls are unlikely to ever own a painted fan, much less curtsey to a queen. Our school is far more practical.”

“In what way?” he asked, intrigued. “What subjects do they learn?”

Miss Grenville gave him a coy smile. “Come back some time. Before three. You’ll catch them in their lessons.”

“I…wouldn’t want to interrupt,” he said. Not just lessons—his meticulously planned, carefully ordered life. He lived by a strict schedule for a reason.

Every moment he spent with people who didn’t need him took time away from those who did.

Miss Grenville was undeniably appealing. Her students were charming. But this would have to be goodbye.

“I see.” Miss Grenville’s eyes lost some of their sparkle. She had not needed him to enumerate his reasons to understand that he would not be back. “Before you go, I too would like to thank you. Not just for last night, but for today. You were very good with the children. Have you some of your own?”

“No.” His answer came out more forcefully than intended. “I am unwed.”

The dark brow she arched was meant to be ironic. From dukes to paupers, “marriage” was hardly a prerequisite to spawning offspring. Some were simply more circumspect about it than others.

Simon felt differently.

London already had more than enough unwanted children, without Simon adding to the problem. He wouldn’t start a family unless he could be a family. A proper one, with both parents at home and plenty of time for the children.

However, none of that was in the cards. Every moment of every day was already spoken for. When the city no longer needed inspectors and constabulary, perhaps then he would reconsider. But for as long as he did more good on the streets, saving lives, catching criminals…

His life was more than full. And he had dallied here long enough.

“Good luck, Miss Grenville.” He bowed, and stepped out onto the front step. “If you or your students need anything at all, Bow Street is a short distance away.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Spaulding,” she replied softly as she shut the door. “Keep rescuing people.”

“I will.” With determination, Simon adjusted his hat, mounted his horse, and set off to do exactly that.