Page 6 of Her Christmas White Knight

“One of the bakers will let me use his oven in exchange for a share of the meat.” Not that it was any of Myall’s business. Her lack of a hearth made it obvious how poor she was. Was he too insensitive to understand her shame?

“Don’t frown. The wind might change, and your face will be stuck looking like a gargoyle’s.” There was a glint in his eyes, curse him. Not only did he wish to demean her, but he was also amusing himself at her expense.

Her gaze kept shooting back to the bundle he’d brought. If her action would only affect herself, she’d send him off with a flea in his ear. But there might be something in that bundle that Hal would enjoy. She forced herself to bite her tongue.

“Nothing to say for yourself, Mistress Wentworth? Very well. Mayhap this will loosen your tongue.”

He laid his package on the straw-filled pallet she used as a bed and unwrapped it. “We have one onion. Also, a handful of sorrel from my garden, a turnip, a carrot, several apples, and a brace of knotted biscuits. I remembered you used to have a sweet tooth.” He paused and stared at the truckle bed.

“But mayhap, I’ve not brought enough. I see you don’t live alone.” His voice had an edge to it, and he was looking at her intently.

She returned his gaze with equal intensity. By the thin morning light that filtered through her window, she could see better what was wrong with his face. It was splotched with scars, both white and livid red. The handsome lines she remembered were unchanged—it was only the skin that was damaged. His dark hair grew normally, his brow still looked noble, and his firm mouth just as tempting. What had happened to him? Had someone thrown lye in his face?

“You’re very kind, but I cannot accept this.” She’d lived in London long enough to know no one gave anything away without expectation of a favor in return. And in Myall’s case—knowing their past amorous encounter—she had a fair idea what that favor might be.

“I don’t want charity, and I’m not to be bought. How I live my life, and with whom, is none of your concern.” It was a shame about the knotted biscuits, though. She would have liked those.

“You think I want to buy you?” His look of astonishment appeared genuine. But before he could respond, Hal had hurtled into the room. The boy took one look at Myall, then threw himself at the man.

Myall’s face brightened in recognition, and he caught the boy, swung him up into his arms, and stared at him. The next moment, both were grinning broadly at one another.

“Master Farrar.” Hal flung his arms around Myall’s neck and clung to him.

“Don’t choke me, you young knave. What in God’s name are you doing here? I thought you’d still be at Christ’s Hospital, where I left you with the other orphans. Don’t tell me you ran away, you incorrigible mongrel.”

Julia pressed her hand to her stomach. The world seemed to have just turned upside down.

“You two know each other?” She could barely speak for astonishment.

“Indeed, Mistress,” said Hal as Myall held him up so high that his head almost brushed the ceiling timbers. “This is the gentleman who saved me from the fire.”