The Historical Collection. Stephanie Laurens
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moaned a little.
“Listen, it’s not my fault their father backed the wrong company in the fur trade.”
“The fur trade?” She accepted his hand, and he helped her to her feet. “Very well, I suppose I won’t complain. This time.”
So this was why she’d remained “unidentified woman” in the Prattler. She ought to have guessed.
She did her best to rearrange her attire. The seam under her arm had ripped. Yet one more frock for the mending heap. “This still doesn’t explain why you’re hosting a ball.”
“I would say something about two birds and one stone, but you’d complain about animal cruelty. Suffice it to say, by hiring an orchestra and inviting a crush of people to admire this place, we can solve both our problems in one evening. You can satisfy your aunt. I can sell the house.” He clapped his hands in cheery fashion. “All sorted.”
“How efficient.”
“While you’re here, you may as well give me your opinion on the wall coverings.” He gestured at the strips of silk damask on the wall. “Tell me your preference.”
“The blue.”
“They’re all blue. You’re not even looking.” He took her by the shoulders and swiveled her to face the samples. “Which is best for the lady of the house?”
“Why does it matter what I think?”
He tensed. “Why shouldn’t it matter?”
“Because I’m not the lady of the house.” She tried, and likely failed, to mask her discomposure. “It’s not my bedchamber. It never will be. So it doesn’t matter what I think, now does it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Maybe not.”
Penny smoothed her skirts and drew a breath to calm her emotions. He didn’t deserve her frustration. Selling the house had always been his goal, and she was being churlish because she didn’t want to be reminded of it.
It wasn’t his fault that she was falling in love with him. For that, she had no one to blame but herself.
“Never mind me,” she said gamely. “I have no eye for fashion. And to be truthful, I don’t much like blue of any shade. That’s all.”
In a gesture she found irrationally dispiriting, he kissed her on the forehead. “Very well, then.”
Penny decided to change the subject—to kittens. Kittens were always a welcome change of subject.
“Here is some good news. The last litter of kittens is fully weaned. They’re ready for their new homes. We can take them tomorrow.”
Most people wouldn’t consider kittens to be harbingers of doom. But then, most people weren’t Gabe.
He had a bad feeling about this errand.
It began when she overruled him on their mode of transportation. He offered his carriage, but she insisted on taking a hackney cab. “I won’t have any of your grumbling if one of the kittens claws the barouche’s upholstery.”
They piled into a hackney, three hampers of kittens between the two of them. Keeping them all contained proved to be an impossible task. They clung to his coat like burrs, and as soon as he plucked one from his shoulder and stuffed it back in a basket, another was scaling his trouser leg.
Meanwhile, Penny sat across from him—completely unmolested and laughing at his predicament.
“You could help.”
“And ruin the amusement? Never.”
Cursing, Gabe unhooked a miniature, translucent claw from his waistcoat embroidery.
“Perhaps they’ve mistaken you for a tree,” she said.
“Perhaps you tucked a mackerel in my hatband.” A set of tiny, predatory teeth nipped at his earlobe.
“We’re nearly there.”
Nearly there. Nearly where, exactly? Gabe craned his neck to look outside the cab. While he’d been fending off a feline siege, they’d traveled well into the East End.
He frowned. “What the devil are we doing in this neighborhood?”
“Taking the kittens to their new home.”
The hackney came to a stop.
“This will be us, then,” she announced.
“Here?”
“Yes, here.”
She plucked one last intrepid kitten from his sleeve and tucked it into a hamper. The button on Gabe’s cuff was left dangling by a thread.
They’d stopped before a building with a simple brick façade. It appeared to be well-tended, considering the environs—but Gabe didn’t trust appearances.
“If you mean to release them into the streets, they’ll find no shortage of rats hereabouts.”
“I’d never dream of doing such a thing.”
He knew she wouldn’t, and that left him all the more disturbed. Loving homes in this warren of crime and drunkenness came scarce, and not only for kittens. A young, defenseless creature would find no comfort here. Only cold, hunger, and fear.
When Penny moved to exit the cab, he held her back. “Oh, no, you’re not.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s perfectly safe.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Gabriel.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You’ve truly never visited the place?”
Why would he have visited this place? He looked around, searching for street names or numbers, any signs posted overhead. He saw only a window with an astonishing number of faces smashed against the glass.
Children’s faces.
The truth crept over him. Penny, what have you done?
She’d already alighted onto the pavement, carrying hampers in either hand and leaving him with the third. She beckoned him with a tilt of the head. “Come along, then.”
“Wait.”
He scrambled down from the cab to catch her. Stop her. But she’d already rung the bell. “Hammond told you, didn’t he? It couldn’t have been anyone else.”
She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow. “Don’t be anxious.”
“I’m not anxious,” he lied.
“Don’t be frightened, then.”
“I’m not frightened. I’m livid. I’m going to sack that sorry excuse for an architect before he’s—”
“Nonsense. You’re not angry with Mr. Hammond. You’re just put out that I finally found it.”
“Found what?”
She gave him a smug little smile. “Your soft underbelly.”
The door opened, and they were greeted by a woman of middle age, wearing a white smock over a dark green dress. Upon seeing Penny, she broke into a wide smile. “Lady Penny. What a delight to see you again. Do come in, come in.” She waved them through the door.
“I’ve brought the surprise for the children, as we discussed.” Penny lifted a hamper. “And I’ve brought a surprise for you, as well. Mrs. Baker, may I present Mr. Gabriel Duke. Your elusive benefactor.”
“Mr. Duke?” The woman clapped