Page 37 of Return to Wildsyde

Not that anyone would know she was a woman, with her short hair and her men’s clothes, but that was the way George preferred it. She was stout and strong and gave them the appearance of having a man about the place if they needed it, without actually having a man about. As far as propriety and safety went, it was as close to the perfect solution as they could get. George had been living hand to mouth after being kicked out by her family for not being the sort of girl they could understand. She had been kind to Elmira when she’d found herself in trouble, though, and so she’d had to come to Gillmont too, naturally.

“’Ere, give it to me. I’ll set it by the fire to dry. You’d best get them boots off ‘im an all,” George said sternly before offering him a hand to shake. “How do, Lars?”

“Fine thanks, George, and yourself?”

“I’ll do. This one has been fretting over you, though. Thought you’d gone for good after that last letter.”

“George!” Elmira said crossly as George strode away with Larkin’s coat, her cheeks flushing pink.

Lord, but she was lovely. Slender as a reed, her fair hair curled around a face that ought to be captured in a portrait. There was an innate sweetness there, but something else too, a hint of steel that warned you she would not bend to your will unless she chose to. Larkin longed to paint her himself, to capture that fierce, beautiful spirit, but it was inappropriate in the circumstances and would only cause them both trouble if anyone recognised her. Larkin turned away before the sight captivated him and he found himself staring. This was why he had kept away, but he worried for all the women and… ah well, he was here now.

A faint mewling sound issued from a bassinet and Elmira hurried over to it. She spoke softly, rocking the cradle with one hand, and the sounds subsided. Larkin moved to stand beside her, looking down at the baby, pink-cheeked and healthy, thank God.

“He looks well,” he whispered.

Elmira nodded and then gazed up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks to you.”

Larkin shook his head and went to stand by the fire. “I just sent you a few things so I could feel useful and then take all the credit,” he said with a grin, trying to brush her gratitude aside, for he did not wish for her to feel that for him. Not that.

“And how goes things at the club?” she asked instead, taking her cue for she knew he did not like nor wish to be thanked.

“Oh, the same as ever. Ashton is doing his best to provoke Lord Merrington to knock his block off in the hope they can settle things in the ring.”

Her lips set in a thin line at his words. “I hope he may succeed,” she said tartly, and then laughed at the expression of surprise he returned. She never failed to remind him she was not the delicate little flower she appeared to be.

“I never liked Merrington. He had a way of looking at one, like he was measuring you, and he would whisper the most disgusting remarks in your ear. Wandering hands, too,” she added with an expression of disgust.

Larkin made a mental note to murder the fellow before Ashton could get his hands on him.

“What else?” she pressed, for his friends were part of a world she had once inhabited too.

He suspected that, as fragile a link as it was, it made her feel better to keep up with a little of the gossip.

“Leo and Muir have become thick as thieves and seem intent on breaking their necks in the most ridiculous way possible. The usual.”

“Oh, what are they up to now?” she asked, settling herself down with an expression of delight.

Larkin smiled. She had only met Leo and Muir twice, but she loved to hear of their exploits, seeming to take such a vicarious thrill in the idea of their derring-do that he wondered what she might try if given the chance. Before he could speak, the door opened and Nan came in, carrying a tea tray. Her situation was much like Elmira’s, except for two years she had lived the life Elmira had narrowly escaped, earning her keep as best she could and trying to raise her little girl, Amy. The madam in whose employ she had found herself was undoubtedly the wickedest creature Larkin had ever encountered.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Nan said with a smile, huffing a little over the hefty tray she was carrying.

“Good day to you, Nan. You’re looking as lovely as a spring day,” Larkin said, hurrying to take it from her and set it carefully down.

“Such a gent he is,” she said approvingly, before smoothing a loving hand over the striped green gown she wore. It was well made and hugged her generous curves perfectly. “Elmira made it for me. She’s that clever with a needle and thread.”

“Oh, fustian, I merely altered it to fit,” Elmira said with a laugh.

Nan rolled her eyes. “Can’t take a compliment, this one,” she said with a sigh, before surveying Larkin with narrowed eyes. “You changed your mind, then? We thought you was keeping away.”

“It’s Joanie’s cooking what brings him sniffing around,” George said as she came back into the room.

Larkin grinned at her but gave a shrug. “I ought to stay away, for all our sakes, and I intend to, but even Leo agreed I needed to come for a visit. You see, we are worried for you. We’ve been having a spot of trouble at the club.”

“Oh,” Elmira set down the teapot and stared at him. “But I just asked how things were going and you said nothing about it. What sort of trouble?”

“I’m sorry, I was going to have a quiet word with George first,” he admitted, glancing at George, who was watching him intently.

Elmira’s expression darkened. “I’m not a child, Mr Weston.”