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He wanted to be here. With her. With their students.
Her students. I’m not a teacher. But he was no longer just a constable, either. Punching his pillow, Will rolled onto his other side. I don’t know what I am anymore! All he knew was he had to protect them. He couldn’t save all of London. Not even the Archangel could do that.
But I can protect her and these children.
When he awakened to the sound of Mrs. Sloane’s jingling keys, it seemed he’d only just closed his eyes. It didn’t feel like he’d slept at all. Groaning, he forced his body up into a sitting position. “What time is it?”
“Just after six,” said Mrs. Sloane. “I’m sorry to have awakened you, but the morning deliveries are expected.”
Given the disapproving look she shot him and the way she was clopping about the room and rattling those keys, she didn’t seem very contrite. But Will was determined to remain civil. “From now on, you should open the door only to people with whom you are familiar.”
A snort erupted from the woman. “And I suppose if I don’t know them, I’m to refuse to accept the morning’s milk and eggs? Are the children to go hungry?”
“I’m simply advising caution. If you must, send a message to the suppliers.”
“And I’m to tell them what, exactly?” she asked, eyeing him with open disdain. “We don’t need anyone thinking there might be a problem paying our bill next month—which is the first assumption they’ll make if I let on there’s been trouble of the sort we saw last night.” Steely eyes glinting, she drew herself up, thrusting her ample bosom out like the prow of a battle frigate. “Now, you just be getting on with your morning, sir, and don’t be worrying yourself.”
“I do need to see myself to Mrs. Hayton’s and change clothes,” he said, glancing down at his wrinkled shirt. “I’ll be back before class begins.”
She nodded and waited for him to don his jacket and shoes.
On arriving at Mrs. Hayton’s, he was greeted with a great deal of fuss and inquiries from his landlady and her cohorts. The cryptic note he’d sent to let her know he wouldn’t be in last night due to “trouble at the school” had greatly upset her.
“I worried so that I hardly slept a wink,” she honked. “Just look at the circles under my eyes!”
“All is well, madame,” he soothed. “You have my word. Everyone had a bit of a fright, but no one was harmed. The constable called and looked into the matter, so you can rest assured we’ll soon have it all sorted. It was likely nothing more than a juvenile prank.” He crossed his fingers and hoped no one from the school told her any differently.
Miss Flanagan spoke. “Oh, you’ve met Constable Birdsley, then?”
A pink tinge colored her normally sallow cheeks, and Will marveled at the tiny smile on her pale lips. First Mrs. Sloane, and now Miss Flanagan. Geoff had certainly made an impression with the ladies of Dover Street! “No. We spoke to Constable Coombs—he’s temporarily covering Birdsley’s route while he’s away visiting family.”
A puzzled look entered both women’s faces.
Miss Flanagan spoke first. “Constable Birdsley has no family. They all died of a sickness when he was a boy.”
“What about extended family?” he asked.
“He has none.”
Mrs. Hayton spoke up. “His mother was an only child and his father the last of his line. Geoffrey was raised by the Church.”
Geoff had never talked of his youth. Now Will knew why. “Perhaps he has a fiancée tucked away somewhere—Coombs said he’d mentioned a wedding. It may be he was referring to her family.”
Mrs. Hayton shook her head. “Geoffrey has vowed never to marry—though some persist in doubting his resolve,” she added with a meaningful glance at a blushing Miss Flanagan. “I’ve known him quite a long time. He has many friends, but I can say with absolute confidence he would never allow himself to form a deeper attachment.” Now her face flushed red. “He told me he suffered greatly over the loss of his family and could never bear to endure such pain again.”
Miss Flanagan gazed at her companion with an expression of open astonishment.
Apparently, Mrs. Hayton knew a good deal more about their constable than she’d let on to anyone else.
His landlady wrung her hands. “I don’t know who this Coombs person is, but he’s a liar.”
Will’s neck prickled with foreboding. “When was the last time you saw Birdsley?”
“He came around yesterday morning to warn us there had been reports of a suspicious person lurking about at night,” answered Mrs. Hayton. “He was concerned for our safety, the dear, and advised us not to be out after sunset. I was beside myself with worry for you until we received your message. I thought perhaps you’d been accosted.”
“I thank you, ladies, for your thoughtful concern,” he said, his unease growing. “I shall henceforth employ extra caution on my way to and from the school. If you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I mustn’t linger. I’m expected back before classes begin.”
The women fussed over him all the way to the stair, pressing him with warnings and advice. Escaping into the relative peace of his own rooms, he at once changed clothes, all the while ruminating over their conversation.
