Page 2 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

There was a mirthless laugh from the shadowy corner. “That might be for the best,” she said, sounding so utterly defeated Nat’s heart ached for her.

“Come, now. What’s this? Surely things are not so bad?”

“Things are as bad as they could possibly be, sir,” she replied tartly. “But it is none of your affair and I shall presume no longer upon your time. Good evening to you.”

Nat’s eyebrows went up. It was a statement that ought to be followed by a slamming door, but as the poor creature was huddled in a shop doorway belonging to someone else, she could not complete the act as it ought to be done.

“You are not presuming,” he pointed out. “I’m the one with all the presumption, and as it is the season of goodwill to all men, and one presumes that includes women too, I should like to help you, if I can.”

“Why?” she demanded, her voice sharp and cynical.

Nat was about to return a glib answer but thought better of it. A beautiful young woman alone and without protection was fair game for every vile creature in the city. Of course, she was on her guard, and rightly so. What woman in her right mind would not suspect him of trickery or deception?

“Well, let’s see,” he began. “I am fortunate enough to be independently wealthy. I have a large, loving, and interfering family who drive me to distraction, and a place to go where I shall be welcomed and be warm and dry and well fed. This is not the case for you, I think, and not being a heartless cad, I will be unable to enjoy a moment’s peace over the next weeks if I do not know that you are safe and warm and well fed yourself.”

Nat waited, wondering what she might say next.

“I was a respectable woman until twelve hours ago,” she said, speaking without inflection, as if there was simply no energy left in her for anger or despair or sorrow. “And then I lost my position. I was thrown out of the house without a moment’s notice, and without the wages owing me. I have spent the entire day visiting every agency in London, trying to find another post to no avail. I have no references, no money, no relations, and nowhere to go. I am cut adrift,” she said, and fainted.

“There, there. Easy now. You’re quite safe.”

The words did not have the soothing effect the speaker had likely hoped they would. Miss Margaret Bancroft opened her eyes and discovered herself alone with a strange man in an unknown room. With a shriek, Meg shrank back against the chair as the fellow took several hasty steps backwards. He held out his hands in a peaceable gesture, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I know you are probably scared to death, but you really are quite safe, and yes, I know it’s pointless to say that, because even if I was a vile seducer of women or a murderer, I’d likely say the exact same thing, but all the same… I really shan’t hurt you.”

Meg stared at him, wondering if vile seducers or murderers typically had some identifying characteristics and if this fellow fit the design. It was hard to imagine. He was a handsome man, with light brown hair cut short in the back and rather messy and too long in the front. It fell in his eyes, and he pushed it back again, smiling ruefully. He had laughing blue eyes and a mouth that seemed inclined to turn up at the corners.

“I’m sorry, but you fainted, and you were so cold your lips were turning blue. I was rather frightened you were freezing to death, if you want the truth, and my rooms were right here with a fire blazing and… and, well here you are,” he said, somewhat apologetically as he rubbed the back of his neck.

He looked awkward and rather like he regretted the impulse to help, for which Meg could hardly blame him.

“How do you feel?”

Meg watched him warily. Handsome he certainly was, and he seemed to be a kind fellow with good intentions, but that was hardly a guarantee of safety. If anyone knew she was here alone with him, she would be ruined. But then nobody knew or cared about her any longer anyway, so what did it matter?

“A… A little better, thank you,” she said, daring to take her eyes from him for a moment to look about the room. It was elegant and comfortable, if rather untidy. Bachelor rooms, she concluded, the knot in her stomach tightening a little. “W-Won’t your wife mind you bringing home an unmarried lady?”

“Oh, I’m not married. Not yet, leastways,” he added, though with such despondency she could only pity the lady in question.

“Well, I shall not keep you,” she said, getting to her feet with all the dignity she could muster, only to spoil the effect by sitting down heavily, her head spinning. “I’m quite all right!” she said sharply, holding out her hand to fend him off, as the man looked as if he would come to her aid once more.

He stilled, then moved several steps back once more. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked, and with such compassion Meg felt tears prick at her eyes. She rather hated him for that.

“Yesterday morning, I think.” The events of yesterday evening had been so appalling it was hard to remember anything before that.

“Well, no wonder you are so faint! You’re famished, no doubt. Look, there’s a marvellous chophouse around the corner. Would you come with me and let me buy you a hot meal? I know it’s a dreadfully shocking offer from a man you don’t know, but I think perhaps your circumstances are such that it will be the least of your worries.”

“I cannot possibly—” she began, even as her stomach made the most appalling and audible sound of protest.

“You won’t owe me anything!” he said, sounding impatient now. “Because if you don’t come and I turn you out into the street, your face will haunt me for the rest of my days. I’m going to help you because if I don’t, I shan’t have a moment’s peace ever again, so you’ll dashed well have to put up with it.”

Meg stared. Once upon a time, she’d had a fine appreciation for the ridiculous and, despite everything, his righteous indignation tickled her sense of humour. “Oh, dear, you are having a dreadful evening, aren’t you?” she said with genuine sympathy.

He snorted at that. “Oh, it’s not just this evening. Christmas is going to be even worse, I promise you.”

“With your interfering family and in a warm house where you’ll be welcomed and well fed?” she suggested, raising her eyebrows.

He grimaced. “That was tactless, wasn’t it? I am tactless, I’m afraid. A graceless lout, my cousin tells me.”