Page 27 of The Return of the Rake

Anne shrugged, avoiding Mrs Fairway’s scrutiny as the lady sat down heavily.

“Never say…not with… Jasper King?” She whispered his name to Anne, as if fearing he might appear in a puff of red smoke complete with horns and a tail if she said it loud enough.

“No,” Anne said with a sigh. “No, of course not. I am not really that reckless nor that stupid, but… but I admit it crossed my mind. He is very handsome, and very charming,” she admitted wryly.

“Lord preserve us,” Mr Fairway said. “Didn’t I have that talk with you about where babies come from? And here you are all dreamy eyed over a fellow what will never settle and marry you, not when he’s more like to be swinging from a rope one fine day. And him with his own bastard here causing—” Her mouth snapped shut suddenly, her colour heightening, but it was too late.

“What? What’s that you say?” Anne said, her voice little more than a whisper but sharp for all that.

Mrs Fairway pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I swore I’d not spread gossip, for I know what harm it can do.”

“Hilda!” Anne said reproachfully.

Mrs Fairway sighed and gestured for Anne to sit down and drew a chair up, pulling it close so they could speak quietly. “It was Bill Jenner running his mouth off, which is why I might have paid it no mind, except the story seems to be well known.”

“Well?” “Jasper King was born and bred in this town.”

Anne’s mouth opened in a little ‘o’ of surprise, for whilst she had only seen Mr King in the environs of her own hotel, she always pictured him in London, striding through the filthy streets of that dirty city whilst lesser mortals strove to clear his path and get out of his way. Even as she thought the words, though, she knew that was not the whole truth. For there was a wildness about him, a ravenous untamed quality that made her think of raging seas and far-off lands and of a man who would remake the world if it didn’t suit him, redesigning it until he was satisfied. If such a man could ever be satisfied by life, which Anne somehow doubted.

“He was driven out of town, so Bill would have it, though if ever there was another man born a bigger liar, I never saw one,” Mrs Fairway said in disgust, her face screwed up with distaste.

“He is a wretched man, and I pity his poor wife more than I can say,” Anne replied darkly, wishing there was a cure for men like Bill Jenner.

“Well, to be fair, he’s not the only one who said it. Him and King were friends in those days, and though King was not much more than a lad, he was already that popular with the girls. Those that weren’t no better than they ought to be, leastways,” she added with a sniff. “But there was a family here then, name of Tanner, and they had a daughter. Well, she found herself in the family way and named King the father. Seems he swore it wasn’t his till he was blue in the face, said she was lying because he would have none of her, havin’ more sense than some. The townsfolk wouldn’t have it, though, and he hopped the twig before they could force him down the aisle with her.”

Anne gazed at Mrs Fairway in dismay, for though she had known Mr King was a dangerous man, she had somehow believed he had his own code of honour. If he had run away and left a girl pregnant with his own child, it would illustrate a fellow of a very different stamp.

“Do you think it’s true?”

Mrs Fairway shrugged. “Men are capable of all sorts. Well, women too, come to that,” she added reasonably. “Who’s to say? But I do reckon you’d best keep your hand on yer ha’penny and watch yourself when he’s around.”

Anne coloured at the cant expression, but Mrs Fairway only shrugged.

“You asked, I answered. Can’t say fairer than that.”

“You mean to say his… this child, it’s here still?”

“Tommy Tanner,” Mrs Fairway said with a nod, a name that Anne instantly recognised as the town troublemaker. She’d had a run in or two with the boy herself, once for trying to break into the icehouse and swipe a bowl of ice-cream, another for pulling rude faces at her diners by pressing his face against the glass and squashing her window boxes at the same time. She’d thought him nothing more than a naughty boy looking for attention, but some folk in the town seemed to regard him as the spawn of Satan.

“But… But he looks nothing like Mr King!” Anne protested.

Mrs Fairway shrugged. “No rule says he’s got to be the spitting image of his da, is there? But I don’t disagree. No gypsy blood in Tommy that I can see.”

“Gypsy blood?”

“So they say.”

“They say a good deal too much round here,” Anne said, folding her arms and scowling. “And don’t I know it.”

“Aye, which is why you’d do well to stay far from the likes of Jasper King. You mark my words, young lady, he’ll bring you trouble or my name’s not Hilda Fairway.”

Anne got to her feet, having had a belly full of town gossip and feeling out of sorts for it. “Just make sure the dinner tonight does us both proud, Hilda. I’ll see what I can make of Jasper King myself, for I won’t see a fellow accused and condemned without the chance to make a case for himself.”

Mrs Fairway shook her head and returned to her stove, stirring a pan there with a resigned expression. “On your head be it.”

“Will that be all, sir?” Repton asked, holding out a pristine white cravat with as much care as if he were handing over a sleeping babe.

“It will,” King replied, placing the pristine length of fabric about his neck and deftly tying it in a simple but elegant knot. “And what are you up to tonight, you old reprobate?” If it were possible, Repton became several degrees chillier and put up his chin. “I shall dine in the kitchen. Mrs Fairway said I might do so if I were to give her a hand with the clearing up, seeing as her kitchen maid is being kept in the dark so as not to tattle the news around town.”