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Chapter Two
Baldwin Radcliff, the Marquess of Hawthorne, walked down the foggy streets of a disreputable section of Town. The sun had set, and lamps had been lit on the street corners. He was well aware of the men that were lurking in the alleyways, waiting for the opportunity to rob him of his coins. But he had little to fear. He had two pistols on his person, one concealed behind his blue jacket, and the other in his right boot. A small knife was in his left boot, as well.
He wasn’t one to go in search of a fight, but he had no qualms with finishing one. He almost welcomed the chance to engage in fisticuffs. It had been far too long since he had boxed with his younger brother.
A lanky man dressed in threadbare clothing stepped out from the shadows of the alley and pointed a pistol at him.
“Give me yer money,” he demanded.
Baldwin stopped in front of him and shook his head in disapproval. “May I ask what you are attempting to do?”
The man stared back at him in disbelief. “I am trying to rob ye of yer coins.”
“With that stance?” Baldwin asked, pointing at the man’s feet. “If you aren’t careful, you could easily be relieved of your pistol.”
The thug huffed. “I think not.”
In a swift motion, Baldwin grabbed the man’s wrist, ensuring the pistol was pointing away from him, and wrenched it out of the thug’s hand. Then, he pointed the pistol back at the man. The thug put his hands up, and Baldwin could see a trace of fear in the man’s eyes.
“As I was saying,” Baldwin continued, keeping the pistol aimed at the man, “you have to keep your feet balanced.” He gave the man a knowing look. “Have you never robbed anyone before?”
The thug lowered his hands and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is the first time I have even tried.”
“If that is the case, then why start now?”
The man shrugged his thin shoulders. “Ye appeared to be an easy target.”
“Ah,” Baldwin said, lowering the pistol. “I would suggest you give up your life of thievery before it even begins.”
“I have tried, but I can’t find a job, though. I’ve been looking since I came back from the war,” the man explained. “My kids and wife haven’t eaten in two days.”
“What about you?”
The thug lowered his gaze. “It has been longer for me.”
“That is most unfortunate,” Baldwin said, extending the pistol back to the man. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out three gold coins. “Here is three pounds. It should be enough to feed your family for weeks.”
“Thank ye, Mister,” the man said as he clutched the money in his hands. “I don’t know what to say.”
“If you are looking for honest work, then go to the Marquess of Hawthorne’s townhouse on Grosvenor Street.” Baldwin paused. “Are you familiar with Hawthorne House?”
“I have only heard tales about its grandeur.”
“Very good,” Baldwin replied. “Go around to the servants’ entrance and they will be expecting you.”
“How can ye be so sure they will even agree to see me?” the thug asked. “It will cost me nearly two shillings to travel there.”
“You do not need to concern yourself with that,” Baldwin remarked in a firm tone. “When you arrive at Hawthorne House, your travel expense will be reimbursed, as well.”
The man gave him a humbled look. “Thank ye,” he said in a sincere tone. “I don’t know what I did to deserve yer kindness, but I am grateful for it.”
In a stern voice, Baldwin warned, “If I hear that you have resorted to thievery, you will be dismissed. Understood?”
Straightening to his full height, the man replied, “Yes, sir.”
“Good, because I expect my employees to be trustworthy.”
The man’s eyes widened as his voice resonated with awe. “Ye are the Marquess of Hawthorne?”
