A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) (3 page)

The stranger finally dragged them behind the cover of some towering crates.

“We’ve lost them. For now.”

Minnie peered around the crates, licking her lips as she struggled to catch her breath. Her hair had come unpinned and her hat was flopped to one side, the satin bow excelling at nearly choking her to death. She tried to right her hat with her shaking hand as the man stood from resting on his knees, but she stopped as he flashed her a smile. It was too bad the hair beneath his ratty cap was so unnaturally blond and dull. It ruined his rugged handsomeness.

“We can’t stay out on the streets. How much have you got?”

“I don’t even know your name.” She stopped untying the hat ribbon. “I’m not going to volunteer how much money I have.”

“I didn’t steal your bag,” he pointed out, reaching into his pockets. He fished out a few pence. Not a promising amount.

He made a fair point, but Minnie was far from convinced that the stranger had noble intentions. He didn’t appear like the reputable sort, not with his soot-stained hands and tatty clothes. And especially not with a split lip and a fresh bruise across his cheek. “I’m sure you’ll expect something because of your efforts.”

He leaned one arm against the stack of crates, crossing his long legs at the ankles. “You could give me a kiss for my troubles.”

“I knew it!” Minnie cried, picking up her valise and swinging it into his stomach.

He fell forward, coughing at first before it turned to a deep guffaw. “I was only having a laugh,” he said, red-faced as he straightened.

“Oh, to be sure.” Minnie drew up her hand to drum at her lips. She frowned when she noticed the red stains. Her best pair of gloves were perfectly ruined now. “What’s your name?” she asked, dropping her hands to her side.

“Alex.” He rubbed his midsection with a scowl. “How much do you have?”

“You’re a pushy fellow. I don’t appreciate it one bit.”

“I don’t like being chased across London because of some silly runaway,” he countered, leaning forward with an arched brow. “We’re even.”

“Fair enough.” She wasn’t so naive to admit that this man, however pushy and annoying, could help solve her temporary setback—a protector of sorts until she saw herself settled. Minnie opened her purse and counted quietly, then cut the tiny sum in half as a precaution. “Eight shillings.”

“Eight…” he said, trailing off as his thick brows furrowed. He studied her for a moment, grabbing her arm once again with his rough hands. Minnie tried to shake him off, but his grasp was firm, even as he picked up her valise and peered around the crates. “Come on.”

“Where are we going now?” He ignored her question, his hand tightening on her wrist. “Do you know where you’re going?”

He didn’t slow his pace as he flashed her another smile over his shoulder. “No. New to town myself.”

They stopped in front of a blue clapboard building, the clapboard bulging with age and leaning toward the cobbled streets. A window opened across the way and a woman tossed out a bucket of foul smelling liquid, only just missing a cart rambling by on the street.

Minnie scrunched her nose and surveyed the others passing by as Alex knocked on the door. “We don’t have enough for two rooms,” she protested, reading the sign above the door.

He knocked again then straightened his coat’s lapels and removed his cap. “We aren’t getting two rooms.” He straightened as Minnie stood there, gaping like a fish out of water. “
Mrs. Marwick
,” he said, winking cheekily. “Close your mouth, darling.”

Before Minnie could reply, the door opened revealing a gray-haired woman with a crooked tooth piercing her bottom lip. “What do you want?”

“Me and my wife would like to rent a room.”

The woman smacked her lips around as she worked her tongue into the rotting crevice between her two front teeth. She scratched her head for a moment, barking a laugh. “Sure you are.”

Alex looked over at Minnie, his eyes squinting, his fingers drumming along the side of his leg. “We’ve eloped and our parents won’t be none too happy to discover the fact. A week is all we need.”

“Newlyweds?” the woman balked again. She looked like a dying vulture. Perhaps sounded like one too, though Minnie had never encountered that before.

“That’s right. Oh, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name,” Minnie said with a charming smile.

Alex draped her hand over his arm, covering her blood soaked glove with his hand. The picture of besotted sweethearts, no doubt.

“Cutpold, Madame Cutpold.” She coughed, surveying the couple standing below on the doorstep. “The room’s fifteen shillings a week, plus coal and food.”

“Wonderful,” Alex said, beaming at Madame Cutpold. “Isn’t that lovely, darling?”

“Splendid, dear.”

There wasn’t a thing lovely about the place at all. The old buzzard was robbing them blind. Minnie spread her lips into a large smile until the apples of her cheeks ached from the effort of it.

“Come in then, come in,” the woman croaked. She shuffled over the worn floorboards, coughing so loud it sounded as if she would deposit her lungs onto the floor.

Minnie stifled her laughter as they passed the other guests, all of whom appeared to be of a disreputable sort. She had never been to a house of ill repute, having been on all accounts a lady until now. But judging by the vast sea of bosoms and various stages of undress, Minnie could check that off as how to ruin one’s reputation properly. Guilty by association.

At least no one would think search for her in a place such as this.

After two flights of impossibly steep and rickety stairs, the woman shoved a key into Alex’s hand. “At the end of the hall,” she said. “I’ll be around at the end of the week to collect rent.”

Minnie plucked the key from Alex’s hand as he laughed. The door stuck, so she shoved her hips against it until it flew open. Alex stood beside her in silence.

The room slanted toward the street to such a degree that she thought herself overcome with vertigo. The milky-colored walls were cracked and peeled, exposing the horsehair beneath. A picture of the Mother Mary hung crooked above the bed in a small frame, the glass shattered into a spider’s web. Two small windows on the opposite wall, covered thick in dust and grime, overlooked the foot traffic of the street below. A table and two chairs sat between them.

It was the sad excuse of a bed that garnered her concern. “This won’t do.” Minnie threw her hands on her hips. The bed sagged and the linens appeared as if they had been washed around the time of Napoleon’s capture.

“I’m no gentleman.” Alex deposited her bag by the washstand in the room’s corner. “I’m not sleeping on the floor.” He paced the room, examining the windows and walls as if he needed another escape route in addition to the door.

“Then we’ll take turns,” Minnie said. “But tonight, I’m sleeping in that thing that resembles a bed.”

“I can’t have a say?” He pulled off his cap and ruffled his fingers through his blond hair. It looked so unnatural against the rest of his features that for a moment, she thought he was harboring a secret of his own.

“I wasn’t allowed one in marrying you. I’m afraid it’s only fair.”

“I couldn’t be parted from you,
darling
,” he said, flashing a smile. “Besides, we’re here only for the night. You’re going home come morning.”

She didn’t run away for one night of freedom, to stay in a whorehouse somewhere in the East End of London. If that were the case, she would have picked something grander, like a room at the Savoy. “The floor,” Minnie said, pointing the dusty boards. “If you’re nice and agree to leave me alone, I might spare you a pillow.”

“How generous.”

“I’ll be a generous wife if you act the part of a husband with a straying eye and leave me alone.”

“Deal.” He grasped her hand and shook with such vigor she found herself laughing at the absurdity of the day. What a great escape. What an adventure.

“Oh, Alex,” she said, collapsing back onto the bed in a peal of laughter. She blew away the ostrich feathers from her hat bowing over her face. “What now?”

A
lex stared at his feet before answering, the room setting him on edge. Everything about it was too small and filthy, too familiar. The key that had been placed in his hand looked like the ones that had hung at the orderlies’ waists. He was back suddenly, the small boy perched at the edge of the earth.

“You could start with your name,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Mrs. Marwick,” the girl answered without pause. “Isn’t that correct, dear?” She sat up with a satisfied grin. It was the look of a high-born girl suffering from a fit of boredom. Come morning, Alex bet she’d be an inconsolable mess of tears, wishing to return home.

“Shouldn’t a husband know his wife’s Christian name?”

“I should think so. It would be rather awkward otherwise.”

“It would be.” He stood by the foot of the bed, waiting, as she pinned her escaped strawberry blond locks back into a tidy knot at the back of her neck.

Alex lugged the worn chair closer to the bed and straddled it, his fingers steepled, prepared for battle. This girl was naïve, but she proved to be a sly minx during their short acquaintance. “I’m waiting,” he said, arching a brow.

With a swift turn of her head, the girl regarded him, playing at innocence with those doe eyes of hers. He hadn’t noticed how very large her hazel eyes were. How striking. Pools of silver and amber layered with mossy green. Her nose, gracefully fine and delicate. And those lips. His breath hitched as she spread her lips into a knowing smile, as if she knew she was beautiful. The damnedest thing about it all was that she was—she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wondered then how she would taste if he kissed her. He’d bet the little he had to his name it was of something he’d never tasted in his life. Something fine, like champagne.

“You’re not my not husband.” She laughed, brushing off his interest.

Alex tapped his fingers together. “I can’t call you Mrs. Marwick all the time. I wouldn’t be an affectionate husband in the eyes of everyone else. Would I, darling?”

“You can stop with that ridiculous pet name.” She brushed down her skirts, sitting straight. Slowly, she began to peel off one glove, a finger at a time. There was a brightness to her cheeks. As he seemed to be nothing of a threat to her, Alex could only assume it was from running through the streets.

It was remarkable. He had never met a person who could wear and dispose of so many masks within such a short amount of time. But whoever this girl was, she was quite skilled at the art of the masquerade. She’d make the perfect con woman, a trickster, or an assistant to one of those doctors hawking fake medical cures in the streets.

She threw back her shoulders and peeled off her left glove, her fine ladylike hand reaching over to undo the other. It was then that he noticed the slight tremble in her long fingers.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing in this part of London?”

“Certainly not.”

“I feel I should know something about the woman parading about as my wife.”

The girl lofted her nose and diverted her eyes to the ceiling. If it wasn’t for her quick breathing, he would have been fooled. But she was frightened.

“
Darling
,” he insisted.

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brows, slowly dropping her gaze to meet his. “I told you to stop calling me that.
Alex
.”

*

Minnie dashed for the door, but Alex was quicker. He held it shut as she reached for the worn brass doorknob.

“Then tell me your name,” he whispered into her ear.

“Good heavens, you’re persistent!” Minnie whirled around and stormed to the window, crossing her arms. “Anne,” she lied. “My name is Anne Gibbons. Can the interrogation be over now?”

He strode closer. “It’s nice to finally meet you.
Anne Gibbons
.” Alex held out his hand.

Hers remained gripping the silk fabric around her middle. For once she was thankful for the corset she wore, holding her together when she felt herself melting under his stare. “It’s unladylike to shake hands with someone who is not intimately acquainted with my family.”

Alex dropped his hand, staring back in cool assessment. “Never said I was important.”

“Your signet ring suggests otherwise.”

He shoved his hands in his worn trouser pockets and rocked back onto his heels.

She took quick stock of his blue eyes, a strange color that she had never seen outside of her time in Persia. They slanted downward slightly and the left lid hung lower over his eye than his right. His nose looked as if it had been recently broken, crooked and long. His mouth was narrow, but his lips wide and full. When they parted in a smile, his face magically lit up. He wouldn’t be considered classically handsome, but the imperfections certainly made up a convincing whole.

They stared at each other in cool assessment.

“Observant,” he said finally.

She noted the slight drop in his shoulders as hers stiffened once again. She had surprised him. “Since you didn’t give me a full name, what brings you to this part of town, Alex?”