Unbuttoning Miss Matilda. Lucy Ashford
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the crowd.
‘Matty!’ he called. ‘Listen to me. Please!’
But by the time he’d fought his way to the door, she’d gone.
* * *
‘Damn it,’ Jack muttered softly to himself. ‘Damn it.’
He strode over to the desk at the back of the room where the elderly man in the black coat was handing over his twenty-five guineas for the coin. Jack slammed his hand down on the desk, making the clerk there jump. ‘Keep your money,’ he said to the elderly man.
‘What on earth...?’
‘I said, keep your money. Look, it was me who put the coin in the auction, but unfortunately, I’ve just been informed that it’s a very clever fake. I’m sorry to disappoint you.’
‘I’m not at all sure that it is a fake, young fellow. I know a fair bit about these things!’
‘It’s a fake,’ Jack declared, ‘believe me.’ He picked up the coin and, as the man spluttered with indignation, he headed for the door. Once outside Jack stood and cursed again under his breath.
What a mess.
That girl Matty. He really had tried his hardest to track her down. There’d been no sign at all—and now he knew why. She lived on the canal. And he knew it was common for the young women on those working boats to dress in men’s clothes, which were far more suitable for working life than dainty frocks.
The problem was, she wasn’t a typical canal girl. She was well spoken and intelligent—and hadn’t she told him her father was a historian? She’d intrigued Jack from the moment she walked into his shop and he’d relished both her knowledge of history and her smart tactics in helping him foil those bully-boys. Her outright courage had made him smile.
Women were usually just a pleasant distraction in Jack’s life. But this one! She was independent, she was brave and when she’d spoken to him just now—what a complete fraud you are—her green eyes had blazed with passion. They were rather stunning eyes, he reflected, with those long dark lashes, and her anger gave a charming pink tinge to her cheeks that stirred up thoughts he really shouldn’t be having...
Like wondering what else might make her blush so charmingly.
Stop it, you fool. Because it must appear to her that he had let her down horribly.
* * *
By now it was late afternoon and he decided to walk the four miles back to Paddington. The distance was nothing compared to the marches he and his fellow soldiers had had to make across Spain, and soon enough he was leaving behind the shops and houses to be surrounded instead by the warehouses and brickfields to the west of the city. Here every street was busy with tradespeople going about their business and he attracted hardly a second glance—when suddenly he saw five men coming purposefully towards him.
‘Jack Rutherford,’ the first one said.
At first he wondered if they were part of the same gang who’d demanded money for protection, but it was unlikely since this lot knew his name. Jack braced himself. ‘Gentlemen. To what, I wonder, do I owe the pleasure of your company?’
They looked taken aback by his mocking tone, but quickly gathered closer. ‘We have a message for you, Rutherford,’ their leader growled. ‘Get out of London right now. Or you’ll find yourself in Newgate.’
‘Newgate? Whatever for?’ Again Jack spoke lightly, although his brain was working like mad.
‘For thievery, that’s what. Fancy a nice long spell in gaol, do you?’
Surely they weren’t talking about the Roman coin? He found himself reaching to touch the outline of the coin that sat deep in his pocket. ‘What, precisely, am I supposed to have stolen?’
For answer, the man handed him a note and Jack glanced at the scrawled initials at the end. HF. Sir Henry Fitzroy. Damnation! Quickly he scanned the rest of the writing.
You recently gave your mother a bracelet, made of gold, diamonds and sapphires...
What? He read it again in disbelief. This was absolute nonsense! The bracelet he’d given his mother was a pretty trinket, that was all! There were no gems. No gold. The ridiculous note went on.
I can prove that this bracelet was stolen and denounce you to the authorities. Unless, that is, you disappear tonight and never show your face in London again.
Jack would have laughed, except it wasn’t really funny. So Fitz must have substituted his bracelet with one containing true gemstones and most likely Jack’s foolish mother wouldn’t even have noticed. ‘This is a heap of lies,’ he said, ‘concocted by the idiot who presumably paid you to deliver this—’
Thwack! One of the scoundrels had produced a club from out of nowhere and had taken a swing at his chin. Jack staggered back to prop himself against a nearby wall. By the time he could see straight again, those men were disappearing into the shadows.
So Fitz was determined to drive him out of town. Jack rubbed his bruised chin, considering his options. His first impulse was to confront Fitz again and attempt to prove that he had not given his mother a stolen bracelet, but his mother would be a shaky witness and Fitz was a wily opponent. Besides, Jack had far more important business to settle with Fitz, so perhaps the time had come for him to make a strategic if temporary retreat.
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