The last thing Drake had expected of his day was to be walking back to his residence with a lumbering horse in tow. The man had found a place to park his wagon until he could secure another beast. They had agreed on a price and Drake had given him instructions to be at Dodger’s Drawing Room at four to receive payment. Fortunately, Dodger’s reputation was such that the man didn’t question he would indeed be paid.
As for Drake, he was a blasted fool. What was he going to do with a horse that was too old for service? It plodded along beside him as though each step might be its last. Whereas Phee walked quietly beside him. The little maid was somehow even quieter, as though she didn’t wish to be seen, as though the temper he’d exhibited terrified her.
He’d spent years holding his temper on a tight leash but when he’d seen the driver shove Phee off the wagon, not once but twice, he’d wanted to put the man into a coffin. The fury that had ratcheted through him had nearly blinded him to reason. All he’d seen were his father’s fists flailing, all he’d heard was the sickening thud of flesh hitting bloodied flesh. For a moment he’d been eight years old, hovering in a corner unable to save his mother, too terrified to try—
He barely recalled climbing onto the wagon and taking his fists to the man. If the man hadn’t tumbled backward, he wasn’t certain he’d have ever stopped hitting him. Phee’s face was already bruising, her eye swelling. The anger he’d felt had died down from a blaze to a simmer, but it was still there. And something more. If he didn’t know better he’d have thought he’d been terrified of losing her.
It hadn’t improved his day that she looked up at him with tears welling in her eyes. Lady O whom he hadn’t even thought capable of weeping. All because of a horse.
“What the devil were you thinking?” he ground out through clenched teeth. “That man was twice your size.”
“The horse couldn’t fight back. He’ll beat the next one he has, won’t he.”
Not a question, a statement, because she knew the answer. Just as he’d known when his father finally stopped hitting his mother that he would beat her again. All he could do was be grateful his father hadn’t turned his fists on him yet. As young as he was, he’d known he should have stepped in front of his mother, he should have stopped his father. The guilt over his cowardice had eaten its way into his soul. “I’ll have a word with him when he comes for his money.”
“You don’t think he knew what he was doing was wrong? If your fists don’t stop him, I don’t see how your words will.”
He peered over at her. “Have some faith in me.”
“I have complete faith in you.”
His gut tightened. He didn’t want her to have that much. Only a smidgen. It was all he deserved. She’d realize that once her memories came back.
“What were you doing at the market anyway?” she asked.
He was hoping with all that had happened, she’d have not been so inquisitive, would have just accepted his arrival in the nick of time. He considered fabricating some tale, but he was still struggling to get his anger in check after first seeing her tumbling from the wagon. Catching her the second time she went flying should have helped ease his fury except that he’d gotten a rather close view of her reddened face and the imprint of the driver’s hand. Morris, his name was. Drake didn’t know if it was his first or surname and he didn’t really care.
“I followed you,” he admitted.
“Why?”
“I feared you might find yourself in a bit of a bother. It appears my fears were well-founded. You seem to call to trouble.”
“You thought I might end up back in the Thames.”
“Morris was certainly contemplating putting you there. Do you make a habit of attacking large men?”
She gave him an impish smile—or started to. It ended with a grimace. “I don’t know, but perhaps. Brutus is grateful, though.”
“Brutus?”
“That’s what I’m going to call him, the horse.”
“He is a she.”
She blinked, glanced back, peered down, reddened. “Why, yes, I suppose you have the right of it there. Daisy, then,” she said. “You’re going to enjoy our garden, Daisy. Lots of tall grass for you to eat.”
“We can’t keep her in the garden.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s simply not done. I’ll have to make arrangements at a stable.”
“Not for a few days. Give her a chance to know she’s safe.”
He couldn’t very well deny her that request when he’d purchased the blasted horse for her. “Two days.”
“Thank you.” They walked on in silence for several moments before she said, “I made several purchases at different shops today.”
“I’m well aware. I went in and confirmed the arrangements after you left.” She had such a smug look of satisfaction, a look that had once irritated him and now only served to charm him. How could he view her in an entirely different light after only a short time? Who was truly altered here?
“You’re quite my guardian angel, aren’t you?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. He was fairly certain a day would come when she would see him more as her guardian devil.
“I couldn’t believe it,” Marla muttered as she bustled around the kitchen. She’d come inside, wanting to tend to Phee’s injuries while Drake saw to the horse. “Just couldn’t believe it. First you running off and attacking that man. Then Mr. Darling.”
Her blue eyes wide, she held up an ice pick. “I thought he was going to kill him.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. I can’t abide someone abusing animals.”
Marla knelt in front of the icebox, chipped ice, and placed it on a linen cloth. “I’ve never seen anyone so furious. Or so frightened.”
“Frightened? Darling? I doubt anything frightens him.”
Marla peered up at her. “You didn’t see his face. I think he fancies you.”
Phee started to laugh off the words, but then she thought of the kiss, felt her cheeks grow warm. “Our life is not a romantic novel.”
After folding the cloth over the chipped ice, Marla stood, worry in her eyes. “The way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, letting you spend his money on your own pleasures—he doesn’t treat you like a servant. He treats you like an equal.”
“Only the two of us are here, and so we’ve become—” Close was the word that came to mind.
The door opened and Drake walked through, bold and confident. The joy that his presence brought was unmistakable. She did feel close to him, connected in a way she couldn’t explain. But with his arrival, she wouldn’t have to defend their relationship to Marla.
“I chipped off some ice,” Marla said, holding up the cloth. “Thought it would help the swelling on her face. I can’t believe he hit her.”
A corner of Darling’s mouth eased up. “I can’t believe she hit him.”
Marla grinned. “She was awfully brave. And you were, too.”
“Foolhardy more like,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’ll see to her injuries. I’m sure you’re needed elsewhere.”
Marla gave him the linen-wrapped ice chips, bobbed a quick curtsy. “Yes, sir.”
“If you’re reprimanded at all for your delay, let me know and I’ll have a word with your employer,” Drake told her.
“Thank you, sir.” Turning, Marla gave Phee a hug. “Take care.”
“I will. Thank you for everything.”
“I didn’t do nothing.”
“You rescued my packages.” Winking, she grimaced at the discomfort. “I’ll let you know when our purchases arrive.”
With only a nod, Marla left.
“Sit,” Drake ordered.
“I’m not a dog to be commanded about,” Phee said.
“Phee, my patience is on a short tether.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be obstinate.”
“I think you mean everything you do and say.”
“I suppose.” But she did sit.
He drew a chair near and sat. She winced as Drake gently placed the cloth-wrapped ice against the side of her face. The concern in his eyes almost brought tears to hers.
“You’re going to have quite the black eye in the morning,” he said.
“I think I might have had one before.”
“When you were nine and fell out of a tree after trying to rescue a mean-spirited cat.”
“How do you know that?”
He swung his gaze to hers, and she saw a mixture of emotions: confusion, aggravation, worry.
“You mentioned it in passing once.”
“Was it my cat?”
“No, it belonged to a childhood friend. At least that’s what I recall you saying.”
“What else did I mention?”
He shifted his attention back to the side of her face, as though if he didn’t watch it, the ice would wander off. “You had a scruffy mutt that barked at anything that wasn’t wearing a skirt.”
“I suppose it would have barked at you then. I wish I could remember it.” She thought for a moment. “Probably best not to. Might just make me sad. Anything else?”
“You like to ride, but Daisy will not be suitable for riding.”
“I have no plans to ride her. I just want her to have a life without care. You’ll need to get her some oats.”
“I’ll take care of it before I go to the club.”
“I’m quite the bother, aren’t I?”
“I’ve known more bothersome wenches.”
“You are such a grumbler, even when you’re trying to make me feel better.”
He smiled, and without thought she reached up and touched the small dimple that formed in his cheek. His lips started to close. “No, don’t stop smiling. You don’t grin nearly enough. And you have such a lovely smile.”
“Lovely? Lovely gets a bloke beat up.”
“Not you. I never doubted for a moment that you would put that awful man in his place.”
“I broke his nose. And his jaw, I think.”
His voice contained no boastfulness, but she heard regret.
“He deserved it,” she said with conviction.
“Aren’t you bloodthirsty?”
“I think I am, rather. When it comes to animals.” She placed her hand over his where it still held the ice to her face, and lowered it to her lap. “Your knuckles are grazed and swollen. We should put ice on them for a bit.”
“They’re big and ugly. Ice isn’t going to help that.” As though suddenly uncomfortable, he got up briskly. “I should see to the oats before trying to get a few winks.”
It hadn’t even occurred to her that it was the middle of the afternoon and he’d not yet had a chance to sleep. “It can wait. You must be exhausted.”
“I’ve gone longer without sleep. I’ll be fine.”
He headed for the door.
“Wait, I have something for you.”
“A list of other things you need?” He was teasing her. She could tell by the twinkle in his eyes. She thought she could easily fall in love with that twinkle. Wouldn’t that be a disaster? As she’d told Marla, servants did not marry their employers.
“No, something else.” She reached into the reticule that Marla had rescued after she’d dropped it and pulled out the small wrapped parcel that was as big as her hand. Hearing a clink, she frowned. “It may have broken.”
Still she pushed it across the table toward him. He approached it as though he expected it to bite.
“It’s a gift,” she told him. “Surely you’ve had gifts before.”
With care, he slowly unwrapped it and simply stared at the glass-blown red and blue dragon, with wings spread wide as though about to take flight.
“It’s a dragon,” she pointed out.
“I can see that.”
“Unfortunately, its tail chipped when I dropped it. I wasn’t thinking about anything beyond the horse. Why are people so cruel?”
Very tenderly he cradled her bruised face. “I don’t know. Yet sometimes they are very nice indeed and it’s just as confounding. I like the dragon a great deal.”
“You will need to hold back a portion of my wages as I want the purchase to come from my purse not yours.”
His lips twitched. “Yes, your wages. I’ll adjust them accordingly.”
“See that you do.”
His grin grew ever so slightly. “You can be quite bossy.”
“I’m the housekeeper. I’m supposed to be bossy.”
“So you are. I’m going on to the club to prepare for the meeting with Morris.”
He couldn’t have said anything that would have disappointed her more. She wasn’t ready for him to leave. “What about your sleep, your bath, your dinner?”
“I have rooms at the club. I’ll bathe and eat there. See that you ice your eye some more.” With that, he picked up the dragon and left.
Leaving her with the sense that she had done or said something terribly wrong.
He didn’t want her giving him gifts. He especially didn’t want her knowing how touched he was by the dragon. Or how unsettled he was that she had known such an item was perfect for him. Few knew about the dragon on his back, even fewer knew the reasons he had changed his name to Drake.
She made him feel vulnerable, exposed. And he’d been stupid enough to tell her about the black eye she’d acquired when she tried to get Grace’s cat out of a tree. And Phee’s mutt of a dog that had always bared its teeth at him, as though it were charged with protecting her from all things male.
He’d forgotten those stories about her, but now he viewed them slightly differently. Had she rescued the dog from a man who beat him? She’d bravely gone up to get Grace’s cat, just as today she’d braved a brute of man in order to stop him from taking a whip to a horse that was too old to be pulling a wagon as weighted down as that one had been.
Now that brute of a man, belligerent and angry, stood before him while Drake counted out the coins. He considered offering Morris a job in the club that would ensure he never had a need to hitch a horse to a heavy wagon, but he didn’t much like the man and didn’t think he would be an asset to Dodger’s. One didn’t solve one problem by creating another.
But he’d made Phee an offhand promise that this man would never again beat another horse. Another aspect to his day that he’d never imagined—giving a vow to Lady O. But the simple words I’ll see to it had been an assurance, a promise, a vow. He would honor his word. To her. For her.
When the final coin was set down, Morris reached for the pile.
“Not yet,” Drake commanded, the tone of his voice brooking no disobedience, the possibility of the coins being snatched back into his coffers hovering between them. He made a notation in a ledger. “I’ll need your mark here indicating that the horse now belongs to me.”
“Ye say that like I can’t write me name proper.”
Drake merely arched a brow. Morris scowled, took the offered pen, and scrawled two X’s joined by a half moon. Then he glowered. “I got the better end of this deal. Won’t be long before you’ll be calling for a horse slaughterer.”
It was an honest trade, a licensed trade, governed by laws. The city was teeming with horses. They needed to be mercifully put down when the end of their life came. Drake momentarily wondered if when the time came for Daisy—which he didn’t think was in the too distant future—Phee would still be with him or back in the world where she despised him.
“Some whiskey to close the deal?” Drake asked.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Leaning back in his chair, Drake reached for the whiskey and poured it into two glasses. With this man he didn’t have to stand in order to dominate, to prove his position of power. In fact insolently lounging conveyed the message much better. And he had been correct. He’d broken the man’s nose. His jaw, however, seemed intact. He should have struck a bit harder.
Before Morris could enjoy the taste of fine whiskey, a knock sounded on the door that Drake had closed earlier. This was a personal matter and he’d not wanted to be disturbed—until now.
“Come.”
The door opened and a large bruiser of a man entered. “Gregory said you wanted to see me.”
“Yes.” He waved the man in. “I want to introduce you to Morris.”
Morris’s head didn’t reach the bruiser’s chin. “Morris, meet Goliath.”
Morris chuckled, revealing two rotten teeth that Drake wished he’d knocked out of the man’s mouth.
“That ain’t really ’is name.”
“Probably not, but it’s what we call him around here. Notice his hands. How large and strong they are. He’s going to become your shadow.”
“Me shadow?”
“That’s right. The next time you take a whip to a horse, he’ll be there. He’s going to count each lash against horseflesh. When you’re done, he’s going to take those incredible hands of his, ball them into fists, and introduce them to your face as many times as you struck the horse. I daresay he’s going to eventually destroy those good looks of yours.” A generous assessment of the man’s features considering he closely resembled a toad.
Morris paled. “That ain’t fair.”
“Of course it is. You have a choice here, which is more than you gave the beast today. Either lighten the load of your wagon or use more horses to pull the weight, but stop abusing them.”
“It’s because of that bitch—”
Drake came up slowly, menacingly. Morris must have recognized his error as well as the fury that was no doubt glinting in Drake’s eyes because he quickly took three steps back. “I’ll stop ’urtin’ me ’orses.”
“Good.”
Slouching, Morris slipped in and scraped the coins on the desk into his hands. “I’ll be off now.”
“You should know that you probably won’t see Goliath keeping watch, but rest assured he’ll be there, because I don’t like you, Morris.”
“Don’t think much of you either.”
“That bothers me not in the least.”
Morris scurried out like the rodent he was.
“Do you really want me to follow him?” Goliath asked.
With a sigh and shake of his head, Drake dropped back into his chair. “He’s a bully. The threat is no doubt enough.”
“That’s good ’cuz I’m not much good at counting.” He gave Drake a pointed look. “And I don’t hit. You know that.”
Drake grinned. Goliath was a giant of a man, but a gentle one. “Morris doesn’t have my inside knowledge.”
Goliath indicated the untouched glass of whiskey on the edge of the desk. “May I?”
“Absolutely.”
Goliath took it in that large paw that Drake had used to intimidate Morris and tossed back the amber liquid. He smacked his lips. “So who’s the bird?”
Drake stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
“What do you care if he abuses his horses? You’re doing this to get the attention of some lady.”
“A rather inept ploy considering she’s not here to witness my good deed.”
“Perhaps.” He set down the glass. “I’d best get back to the kitchen. A good many hungry lords tonight.”
“I’m going to be leaving for a while. Pack up some dinner that I can take with me.” He cleared his throat. “Enough for two.”
Goliath grinned, pleased as punch. “Shall I include a bottle of our fanciest wine?”
Drake had wine in his residence, but it wasn’t the fine vintage that Dodger’s had on hand. He shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt.”