Ryker made to swear softly under his breath but then thought better of it. He was in the company of a lady and now an infant, strange as that was. It was, after all, well past midnight and they were traipsing down the foggy streets of London as though it were midday.

He tried and failed to think of another time where he’d done anything remotely like this.

She was correct. She had, in fact, tossed several rather inconvenient problems in his way this evening. He’d been down at the docks to try and solve another mystery entirely but now found himself babysitting a lady and a baby.

And he’d lost his only lead.

He was certain she was a lady, or very nearly one anyway. If he ever attended any ton events, he’d likely be acquainted with her already. Her clothing was of the finest quality, her manner genteel, her speech perfectly accented.

He almost grinned. But he restrained himself. He rarely smiled and this didn’t seem the time to start. But it did amuse him that if he’d met her in a ballroom, he likely would have thought her boring, actually. Not that she wasn’t pretty, but so many of them were. Her eyes were large and luminous, her lips temptingly full. But so many debutantes appeared attractive at first blush. It was when they began speaking that he found them dreadfully dull.

But honestly, she was anything but. Which is why, despite his better judgment, he found himself helping her yet again. “My carriage is just two streets away. Come on.”

She gave him a delighted grin, her entire face lighting with it as her sparkling eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners.

“Thank you,” she answered breathlessly. Something about the tone of her voice along with her large eyes looking up at him with such expression made him clench in the most unwanted way. Attraction in this moment was entirely unwelcome. She was troublesome and, while clearly comfortable with breeching social convention, he suspected she was innocent.

He wanted nothing to do with an innocent woman of marriageable age. Depending on how well-connected her father was, Ryker was sure he’d seize the opportunity to make a match if any hint of scandal touched him. Which is why he would absolutely keep her identity secret. And he’d have to impress upon her that she do the same.

Not that he’d shared even a hint of who he was. He had told her his given name, but no one used it, except for his mother, who stayed at his country estate. She hadn’t been to London in years.

And he rarely socialized with his peers. Actually, he rarely socialized. Having inherited a dukedom just two years’ prior, he’d found himself inundated with its management. And honestly, he found work far more fulfilling than the useless endeavors of the ton.

It suited him to lead a more solitary life. He supposed he would have to participate in society when it came time to find a wife, a necessary and dreaded task. But he’d put it off for as long as he could.

He made to hold his elbow out to Trish but realized she couldn’t very well link her hand through it while she carried a little bundle in her arms so he placed his hand at her back instead.

It was far more intimate than he cared to admit and he straightened, as if that would somehow create more space between them.

She didn’t seem to notice. Trish’s eyes were focused on the tiny features of baby in her arms. He glanced at them as well, and he had to admit, they were quite adorable. A lump formed in his throat that he swallowed down.

They finally reached his carriage and Trish rattled off an address to his driver. The man was well trained, but Ryker was sure he saw Seymour’s eyebrows notch up just a hair as a woman and a baby climbed into his carriage.

If Trish noticed the details of his conveyance, she made no comment. Like her clothes had done for him, the opulence within his carriage would alert anyone to his status.

But she was busy, smiling at the tiny person in her arms, which left him free to sit across from her and assess the details of her face.

Even in the dim light, he was sure that her hair was a shade of auburn. She’d pulled it loosely back so that curls seemed to float about her face. Her large eyes seem to have captivated him and while he couldn’t make out the color, he’d guess they were a light shade of some kind. They shone whenever light hit them.

Her nose was tiny and completely adorable, softening her high cheekbones and likely keeping her from being regarded as a true beauty. But Ryker had to admit he found it rather pleasing. It somehow matched her personality, which was both tenacious and sweet as far as he could tell.

He covered his eyes with one hand, willing himself to think of something else. He’d soon drop her at her destination and then he’d likely never see her again.

If his man did find Lord Fenton Allstar, he’d be returned to his family, but Ryker need not see to that. His detective, Greyson, could surely handle the task.

For some odd reason, a pang of regret reverberated in his chest but he swiped it away as though shooing a bug. Trish was not for him. Even if he were looking for a wife, which he wasn’t, this particular woman was far too much work, no matter how much more interesting that made her from the usual lady.

The carriage pulled to a stop and Ryker exited to help Trish down. She gave him a nod and then started up the stone steps. Reaching the landing, she lifted her hand and used the knocker on the door.

Ryker started in surprise. He’d expected her to sneak around back, he supposed. He had been sure she was out without permission.

The door opened almost immediately and again he started with surprise. Which in and of itself was alarming. He was rarely surprised. “Bloody hell,” he mumbled. He hadn’t had the opportunity to climb back into his carriage.

A woman in an apron stood with a candle, her face harsh until her eyes landed on Trish. “Lady Tricia,” she gasped. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

Lady Tricia. He’d known she was a lady. And Trish might actually be a shortened version of her name. So she hadn’t lied to him.

“My mother needed medicine from a chemist for my father, Mrs. Stallworth. She’s sent me.” Tricia gave him a quick glance that pleaded with him to go along with her story. “I’ve a foundling that needs care. Can you help me?”

The woman gave a nod and opened the door wider. “I’ve a sick child. Is there a chance you could feed this little one before you return home?” Mrs. Stallworth’s eyes drifted to him. “But first tell me who that is?”

Tricia’s eyes flitted to him again. “My cousin, Fenton. My mother requested he escort me. I…couldn’t…possibly go out at night alone.”

So she was going to lie about his identity. And her reason for being out. That was fine by him.

Mrs. Stallworth nodded. “I’ll prepare the milk. Once the babe is fed, Fenton can escort you home.” The older woman turned in clear indication they both should follow. “I’ll not tell your mother I saw you, but I expect to never see you at my door at this time in the evening again.”

He saw Tricia nod, and he nearly winced. She had put herself at risk bringing this baby here tonight. Actually she’d put herself at risk trying to find her cousin first. While the woman needed to practice some self-preservation he couldn’t help but admire her willingness to help others.

Though her willingness seemed to require his continued participation. Because now he was required to watch her feed the child and escort her somewhere else or risk exposing her ruse.

Moving to a parlor Tricia took a seat in a chair. Ryker, once again, settled himself across from her. Mrs. Stallworth left to procure the bottle and Tricia leaned her head back closing her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this.”

He gave a nod, there was little to say.

“Trish?” a tiny voice called from the door.

“Lauren,” Tricia picked her head up, a grin lighting her face. “What are you doing out of bed?”

A little girl rushed into the room. “I’ve missed you so.”

Tricia managed to free one arm from the baby and she wrapped it around the little girl, kissing the top of her head. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Is it true that your papa is sick? Is that why you haven’t come?”

Ryker pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He didn’t want to know any more about this woman. Not that her father was ill, not that she spent her time helping needy children and not that she looked absolutely beautiful holding babies and little girls.

“Yes, I’m afraid it is.” Tricia answered in a soothing voice.

“I’m very sorry,” the little girl answered.

“Lauren get back to bed this instant,” Mrs. Stallworth called as she returned with a device Ryker had never seen before. Made of porcelain, it was boat-shaped with a small hole at one end and a much larger one in the middle.

Tricia kissed the little girl again. “I’ll come visit soon. Off to bed.” Then she took the device, and with complete ease, used it to feed the baby.

“There is a free cradle upstairs in the infants’ room. I’ll find another wet nurse tomorrow.” Mrs. Stallworth turned to leave again. “Write to me in the morning so I know you’ve made it home safe.”

Tricia nodded. “Thank you for everything.”

Mrs. Stallworth didn’t answer but she threw a healthy glare at Ryker before she exited the room.

“I don’t think she believes you.”

Tricia shrugged. “Whatever happens will happen.”

“You would allow yourself to be ruined?” He couldn’t hold his opinion in any longer. It had been bubbling just below the surface. “For a cousin who has wasted his life and a foundling you’ve no connection to?”

Her eyes met and held his. He saw no uncertainty in them. “My sister has found a way to marry and still help those in need. She started this orphanage. I doubt I will be so lucky. Most men would not allow their wives to work in this capacity. If I am ruined then my fate will be decided. I will dedicate my life to helping those in need rather than starting a family of my own.”

Bloody hell, she was the worst kind of fool. The kind with honest intent but no regard for self-preservation or any sense at all.

She finished feeding the child and stood without another word. She exited the room and he could only assume she would put the baby to bed. Several minutes later, she returned and waved him to follow.

Leaving the way they had come, she rattled another address to the driver and he silently helped her into the carriage. It was exceedingly late now and he could see the droop in her shoulders as she collapsed onto one of the seats.

He sat across from her just as before. Clearing his throat, he knew he needed to discuss his identity with her. They’d soon arrive at the address she had given. “Trish, I’ve a request of you. It is important you tell no one about who I am.”

She yawned and leaned her head back again. “I haven’t the faintest idea who you are. I am in far more danger of discovery than you.”

She had a point, as they’d already discussed.

The carriage began rattling down the street, and once again Ryker found himself watching her across from him.

For her part, her eyes remained closed and her breathing soon became deep and even. He was sure she’d fallen asleep. Somehow she looked even lovelier like this, with her soft features bathed in moonlight as she sighed in her sleep.

All too soon, the carriage once again rolled to a stop, and he took note of the address. He wasn’t sure why, he’d assured her and himself that he never wanted to be bothered with her again. The sun was just rising and he could now see that her hair was in fact a lovely shade of reddish blonde that looked touchably soft.

“We’re here,” he spoke quietly, so as not to startle her too much. Ridiculous really, to protect her so. She’d been out all night, and at the docklands, no less.

She jerked awake and sleepy green eyes blinked at him. “Thank you,” she mumbled as she made to stand and swayed on her feet.

He clamped his hand on her elbow and helped her out of the carriage. She steadied herself and then scurried down the street, disappearing in an alley several houses away.

“Drive by the alley,” he ordered Seymour as he climbed back in the carriage, parting the curtains as he did so. He was only a few blocks from his own townhouse. He told himself he wished to know exactly what street to avoid so that he never ran into this troublesome little minx again.

Somehow, he knew, he would.