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He shrugged. “It’s in my blood, I suppose. My father was a watchman and one of the only honest thief-takers in London in his day. Never made enough to escape the seedy side of Town—not with eight children to feed—but he made enough to provide for us.”
Her fingertips grazed his arm from shoulder to wrist, leaving a tingling trail in their wake. “How did he die?”
The loss still pained him, but it was an old, familiar pain. “He was killed while collaring a burglar. His death left our mother without means. Without enough to pay the rent, she and my youngest three sisters divided themselves between my married sisters’ homes until the girls could find work.”
A sympathetic crease appeared between her brows. “How sad to have to leave behind their home so soon after such a tragedy. But you mentioned only your sisters. Where did you go, if not with one of them?”
“I was fifteen, a bit surly, and always hungry, all of which made me somewhat less than welcomed by my sisters’ husbands. I was offered apprenticeships by two of them, but I had no desire to become a butcher or a tanner. Nor did I crave working long, hard hours for naught but a shared room in one of their houses until my apprenticeship was complete.”
“What did you do?”
Will laughed a little, remembering what a quandary he’d been in at the time. “I appealed to my eldest sister’s husband, Nigel, who is a barrister. He’d taken my mother in, but refused to shelter me. When I was eight, I had played a rather nasty prank on him. He’d intended to ask for Charlotte’s hand the night I slipped a bladder filled with rotten fish guts beneath his rear just as he sat at dinner. It earned me his eternal enmity.” It had also earned him one of the worst whippings Father had ever given him.
Jacqueline was laughing. “I imagine your mother was less than happy, too.”
“She made me clean it up.”
Her amusement suddenly transformed to outrage. “But some seven years had passed between then and your need for a home. Surely he did not hold a
grudge for so long against a child?”
“Oh, he most assuredly did,” he replied drily. “Nigel is the kind of man to never forget an insult. He gave me a week to make other arrangements.” Charlotte had begged, cried, and even threatened to leave, to no avail. And Nigel had only disliked him more for having caused him marital discord. “I had my mother beseech him to write a letter of recommendation to help get me into King’s College on a scholarship to study law. He agreed and made certain I was accepted—anything to keep me out of his house and Charlotte happy.”
Pulling back, she frowned a little. “You studied law?”
“Graduated the top of my year with merits.”
“Forgive my bluntness, but with such an education, why did you not become a barrister?”
“I was young and disliked the idea of spending my days closeted in an office or a courtroom with a lot of stuffy old men. I craved adventure and wanted to do some good in the world, like my father before me. So when I heard Westminster was putting together a special constabulary and offering a steady wage, I recommended myself. I’ve worked for Sir Gonson ever since.”
“And has it been the grand adventure you envisioned?”
Using the opportunity to put an arm around her bare shoulders, he shrugged. “It’s honorable work, the pay is decent, and it helps make London safer.” He loved fighting on the side of the right. There was little glory in it, but it came with a great deal of personal satisfaction. He noticed she’d fallen silent. “Is something troubling you?”
“No,” she answered unconvincingly. He stared at her, and after a moment she relented. “What will you tell your superiors about me?”
Damn. “That you are the headmistress of a charity school for girls and you come from France, where your sister is a baroness. Need I say more?”
“They will want to know more than that, just as you did. Especially since I’ve been implicated in a terrible crime.”
“They can wonder as much as they like,” he said, hiding his disquiet with nonchalance. “The children’s files will prove your innocence.”
But her face remained tense. “And what of my friend, the Archangel? Do you not think they will ask about him?” She looked down to where her fingers twisted the coverlet. “You should know I’ve destroyed anything tangible that might have led them to him.”
“They won’t ask.”
“How can you be certain?”
Reason warred with his conscience, but it was a short battle. “Because I’ll tell them there is no connection, and they’ll believe me. Between Horton and me, they’ll have all the testimony they need to pronounce you blameless. If they insist on digging any deeper, I’ll direct them to your friends, Lord and Lady Montgomery. I’m sure they’d happily give witness as to this establishment’s legitimacy.”
“They would. But I hope it does not come to that. It’s bad enough you are willing to lie on our behalf.” Anger sparked in her eyes. “It’s unfair that we should have to resort to deception when our purpose is so benign. But we have no other choice. It’s the only way to ensure their safety.”
“It’s for the greater good,” he agreed, rubbing out the last speck of guilt. “But if we are to protect the Archangel, your friends must be in accord.”
“You’ve nothing to fear. All of us have agreed never to reveal his identity.”
“That’s all well and good—as long as everyone’s stories match up. One slip from just one person and it will all come apart.” He hesitated to say it, but he had to. “The children would be considered easy targets for questioning.”
