Chapter Two
That had been far too close.
She was still tucked against the side of a brick house, hand clutching at her heart, as if that alone would stop its anguished throbbing.
Colin Gerrard.
In London.
It should not have been too unexpected; he was certainly of an age now where he ought to be in London on occasion, particularly if he were trying to find a wife.
She winced and pushed off of the wall, peering around the corner of the house. It had been at least a quarter of an hour that she had been hiding here. Surely he ought to be long gone by now.
Unless he had been looking for her.
She shook her head with a derisive snort and continued on towards her destination. She was being ridiculous; why in the world would he want to look for her? It had been fifteen years since she had given him the cruelest sort of news imaginable, and if she knew anything about Colin Gerrard, which she was quite certain she did, he would not easily forget that.
No, he would most certainly not look for her. Perhaps he had already forgotten her.
He ought to forget her. She was nothing anymore, not to him, not to anyone.
Lady Susannah Hawkins-Dean was a name few knew, and even fewer would be pleased to. Even she shuddered when she heard it. She wished she could be Susannah Merritt once more, but that name had not meant very much either. It had certainly caused enough damage in its time, though she’d only borne it for fifteen years. She had not had that name for half of her life now.
She did not even know that name anymore.
Now she had to be Susannah Hart, accomplished spinster, governess, or companion, with few references and even fewer connections. Looking for work in such a pitiful state was feeling rather impossible, and while she would have preferred to work at the hospital, they had no need for help right now unless it was as a volunteer.
She would have done so, had she any choice.
But she needed money.
And she needed it now.
Susannah pushed a strand of her dark honey-colored hair out of her face and carefully tucked it back into the knot she wore at the base of her neck. She had to look as respectable as possible. She still had a fairly youthful face that made her age suspect when revealed. But wearing the severe knot seemed to help in that respect. No young woman looking for a husband would ever wear her hair thus.
And she was certainly not looking for a husband.
No, indeed, Susannah had had quite enough of husbands, thank you very much. One was all that it took for her to tire of ever experiencing the married life again. Sir Martin Hawkins-Dean had been thirty-five when he had married her, and his fortune had saved her family from complete destitution and ruin, which is what had finally made her accept the reality of her situation.
It had all been arranged without her consent, but she had to agree to the conditions set forth before the marriage would take place. And one of the conditions set down by her father was that she had to sever all ties with Colin Gerrard.
He had not been suitable for her, and had her brother not seen them kiss, no one would have known that their relationship had been anything other than platonic. His family had once been a respectable one, but after his mother’s death, his father had lost all sense of himself and had carried on in the most shocking of ways. Colin and his brother Kit had been forced to visit their aunt Agatha, who lived at Seabrook, for every school holiday, and it was there they had become acquainted.
She remembered that first day on the shore when they had met. She had been ten years old, her brother Rupert had just been teasing her about growing too fast for her dresses and looking like a stork, and she had been crying. Colin had found her, teased her out of her tears, and they had been best friends ever since.
Until she had broken his heart six years later.
She’d also broken her own. He would never know that. He would never have understood.
But she’d had to. Her family had depended upon her saving them.
Fifteen years later, little had changed except her. She was harder, older, more experienced, her body was not the same as it had been, nor was her heart. But here she was, scurrying about London, hiding from anyone who might have known her, looking for the most readily available work that would still allow her to maintain some sort of respectability.
But that was destined to change soon if she did not have some success.
It was beginning to matter less and less what she did for work as long as money was involved. Beggars could not be choosers, and while she was not a beggar as yet, she was getting dangerously close. And her family was incapable of developing any sort of backbone for themselves.
She shook her head in irritation, desperate to wipe that line of thinking away. Her family could not be blamed entirely for their current state of misfortune. While they were guilty of poorly managing money, and a long history of it, the blame must set where it belonged.
With her blessedly late husband and his infernal inability to think of anyone but himself.
She checked the small watch that was attached to her jacket, the one trinket she had been permitted to keep of her belongings, and sighed. She was going to be late for her interview if she did not make haste, and that would not do at all.
But London was a far larger place than she had ever imagined it to be. If she had been wiser, she would have come weeks ago and taken stock of the place, learned its energy and dangers, and sought out work in all the right places. But she was neither wise enough nor free enough to do as she wished. And her current restrictions pressed upon her such a need for discretion that she had to exercise extreme caution in everything.
And in that sense, London itself might have been more terrifying than Colin Gerrard.
Her mind betrayed her to thinking back on his face just then. He was older, certainly, but somehow, impossibly, he was more handsome for it. He had been a very attractive boy, but now? He would have stopped an entire room of people simply by entering it. And they would have thanked him for giving their eyes such pleasure.
He had looked troubled, which was not an expression his face was supposed to know. Her one consolation all these years had been that he would be happy without her, that his life would have been profoundly blessed by not being mired down with her family and her ties. He would have been better for never knowing how deeply she had loved him.
Had? her mind asked in a taunting voice.
She pushed that aside with an irritated snort. She would not admit to anything but holding onto the memory of Colin all these years. What girl in her situation would have done otherwise? She had to cling to something bright in the world of the black oblivion she had known.
She had loved Colin, as much as her little girl heart had known how.
But that had been a lifetime ago.
She had never told him the name of the man she would marry, and that had been her idea. She knew he would not rest without knowing, but also knew that he would never discover it. Sir Martin had not had their marriage publicized for reasons of what he claimed was practicality, but she knew it had been to keep his indiscretions at bay. She had been a matter of convenience for him, as a wife lent respectability to a name and a title, and an estate wanted for a woman’s hand.
She had not touched anything of his their entire marriage, nor had she desired to.
But she was free of it now, and London was her escape.
And her prison, it would seem.
She hurried along the rambling street, unable to keep from smiling. They’d always said they would come to London, that they would meet there one day and explore it together. They would be married and have six children and be infamous for their parties. There was never any thought of money or titles or social politeness, they never cared for that. They wanted the adventure, and they wanted to be together.
It was all they ever wanted.
“Someday we’ll meet in London, and I’ll be a fine lady, and you a gentleman. And we’ll take the place by storm, Colin. Just you wait.”
She inhaled sharply at the sudden memory of herself, lying on the grass at his aunt’s home, her head near his, looking up at the clouds.
He had laughed at her, but gone along with it, rambling on and on about the things they would do, the places they would go, the things they would see.
But from then on, it had always been London for them.
Now they were both in London. She was a lady and he a gentleman. But that was the end of it.
Colin could never know of her life or that she was here, or that she had clung to so much. He might not even remember her.
But even her mind could not let her believe that.
He was Colin. He remembered everything.
A yell jerked her from her thoughts and she jumped back to avoid being hit by a carriage. A hand seized her arm and she whirled with a gasp towards it, heart galloping faster than the carriages.
“Watch yourself,” a familiar accented voice said. “Streets are dangerous this side of town, even in the mornings.”
Susannah smiled up at the man, whom she only knew as “the Gent,” and who had become the first man she had trusted in over a decade. “You would think I’d have learned that by now.”
He grinned and she was astonished again by the straightness, and cleanliness, of his teeth. His clothes were dirty and common, perfectly threadbare and unremarkable, and he was unshaven. By all accounts, his teeth ought to have matched. But they did not. It wasn’t the first time she wondered if he was not quite what he seemed.
“Or perhaps you just enjoy being saved by me,” he said with a bit of a Cockney drawl.
Susannah rolled her eyes, scoffing softly.
The Gent chuckled a little. “You seem to be lost in thought, Miss Hart. Can I escort you somewhere so you won’t be in danger from any more runaway coaches?”
She heaved a little sigh. “Yes, thank you. I’m… not myself today.”
He offered his arm very properly. “I understand. I’m not myself most days, it’s a confusing state.”
Susannah was amused in spite of her distress. The Gent had found her wandering London shortly after her arrival and, after assuring her that he only wanted to help, he showed her about London and helped her get her bearings. She had worried about it at first, but he never asked questions, and he never judged.
And it was nice to have someone looking out for her.
“Where to, then?” the Gent asked, his accent ringing out proudly.
“Mrs. Grovner’s,” she said. “I’m still in need of work.”
He looked down at her, one dark brow rising. “Mrs. Grovner’s, eh? Governess or companion?”
“Whichever will take me first,” she replied simply. She was in no position to be particular. Her situation was dire and growing more and more desperate.
“Come work for me, I could use a woman like you.”
She laughed forcibly at his suggestion. “You couldn’t afford me, Gent.”
“And you can’t afford anything right now.”
She pretended to consider that. “Then I accept. What is the position? Sending out runaway carriages so you can save the women in their path?”
He patted her gloved hand and chuckled. “There’s some spirit, that’s better. I was beginning to doubt my charm.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want that.”
“It would ruin me for the whole city.”
“That would be a travesty.”
“You have no idea.”
They shared a smile and his eyes suddenly looked past her and turned colder. “Don’t turn to look,” he murmured, still wearing the smile, though it was now forced, “but do you know anybody in London enough for them to watch you?”
She swallowed and nearly looked anyway, but put her gaze squarely on the small area of exposed skin at his throat. “No,” she answered truthfully.
He made a small noise of noncommittal assent. “A shortcut, I think.”
“I should go,” she hissed, shaking her head rapidly as the fear and worry rose within her. “I shouldn’t have come, I should have known, you should go…”
“If you think I am leaving you for one minute, you are not nearly as intelligent as you look.”
His voice suddenly had such authority, and no hint of an accent, that she looked up at him, fear receding at his calm.
He looked beyond again and grunted. “Gone already. But with how you reacted, I think you must need my help more than the occasional carriage rescue and London tour.”
“Gent…”
He snorted and set them to moving again. “Susannah, don’t even bother.”
She swallowed and tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t budge. “Gent, thank you for helping me, but really, I will be fine.”
He gave her one look that told her he knew that she was lying and she found no defense to counter with. He turned them down a smaller street, far less filled with people than the previous one.
“Miss Hart,” he said simply, his accent returning at last, “you officially have a protector now. You might not always see me, but from here on out, you are safe to walk about as you will. I would recommend being accompanied if possible; it is London, after all. But no harm will come to you, I swear it.”
She opened her mouth, but found no words. “You don’t know where I live.”
He smirked. “You are new to the city, Miss Hart, so I doubt you do either. And you are looking for work, meaning you will not stay somewhere long, if you become employed. Where you live is a very fluid concept at the moment.”
Actually, her life was a very fluid concept these days. Rough seas, to be sure, considering the poor state of her boat and the size of the waves, the storms swirling about, and her inability to steer. But he was right. She had no home. No friends. No future.
Yet somehow, she had gained a protector.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked in a low voice as they approached Mrs. Grovner’s. “You have no idea who I am or what my troubles are.”
He heaved a sigh, as if he had been asking himself that same question the entire walk. “I don’t know, Miss Hart. Sometimes, I just can’t help myself.” He turned to her with a tip of his hat and a wink. “You need anything, you just holler. Help will come.”
He turned to leave, but she suddenly grabbed his sleeve. He looked down at her hand, then up at her, just as she’d done to him only moments before. She bit her lip and looked at the agency door.
“There’s no shame in it,” he murmured, as if he knew the mess of her thoughts.
She nodded once, swallowing. “This isn’t what I want,” she whispered, unsure why she was admitting that.
“And since when does that make a difference in what happens to us?” he asked with a tilt of his head and the hint of a smile. “You think I like walking around London looking like this and saving people like you?”
She raised her chin suspiciously, suddenly feeling the slightest bit lighter. “Yes, I think you do.”
He winked again and turned around, heading in the opposite direction, whistling a jaunty tune. “Don’t you tell no one. Good luck!”
Susannah shook her head and turned back towards the door. The Gent was right, she was doing what she had to. And she might as well face it. She exhaled, and pushed the door open.
The interview did not take long at all, as Mrs. Grovner already had her notes and references, and now she bore a list of suggested places she might fit as either a companion or a governess. Mrs. Grovner would set up appointments for her with each of them, and let her know the results when she could, but Susannah could not think on that now. She had prospects, which was more than she’d had before. For the first time in years, she had something to hope for.
It was an entirely new sensation.
She didn’t see the Gent, but she did not expect to. He was, no doubt, saving other wandering females with no sense of the city. Who was he, really? He obviously did not belong any more than she did, yet he mingled so well, disappeared so easily. He was a contradiction, walking and living and breathing, and who knew what his real story was. He had taken an interest in her, for whatever reason, and she was grateful for it.
She was not grateful for many things these days.
The building of apartments in which she was staying looked more dank in the daylight than she recalled, but she had been so grateful for the vacancy that it hadn’t mattered. The price was something she could afford, the state of the building something she could overlook, and the smell was something she could learn to accept, she supposed. Something better would come along.
It had to.
She knocked at the door and was let in by the mute doorman, whose name she still had yet to learn, but he nodded at her, belched, and went back to dozing on his stool in the corner.
Oh, but she was a long way from Pavel House.
She removed her bonnet, wincing as the cheap straw caught at her hair, and went up the creaking stairs. The apartments were quiet, which she expected, given the hour of the day, though they had been busy enough last night. Again, she would have to adjust. Nothing would be the same, and it was time to adapt to her new state of living and being.
She reached her apartment and fumbled for her key, sighing with a small smile. Progress had been made today, which must be appreciated.
And she had seen Colin Gerrard.
Her smile faded, and she swallowed. That was something she had never intended.
But no matter. It would not happen again.
It could not.
The door opened before she could do so herself and her neighbor answered, her gown far more decent now than it had been when she’d left, though one shoulder was still bare. “Oh, good,” she hiccupped, though she was not drunk, “you meant it when you said not long. So many people lie these days, and I really do have to work.”
Susannah smiled and entered. “Yes, Sasha, I meant it. And I do appreciate your helping me.”
The woman shrugged her one bare shoulder and gave her a smile. “He’s easy enough to please. Been teaching me to read, actually. Never learned before.”
Susannah’s smile grew and she shook her head. “I’m sure he did. How much do I owe you?”
Sasha held up a hand. “Not a bit, Miz Hart. I’ll do it anytime, provided I don’t have a chap. I like you, and I like him. And neighbors help each other.”
A lump rose in her throat. “Thank you.”
Sasha wrinkled her nose in a smirk, and left, calling out, “Bye, love!” as she did so.
Susannah sighed and turned around, hands on her hips, facing the small, curly-haired seven-year-old boy sitting in the chair before the empty fireplace, book open in his lap.
“Good morning, Mama,” he giggled, opening his arms for a hug.
She went to him, hugged him back, and kissed his brow. “Good morning, Freddie. What are we reading today and where did you get it from?”