Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) (2 page)

Hal’s gaze was riveted on the young woman, for she
had to be the same one he’d seen on the earlier occasion.  He wondered if she
was wearing the same stockings.  Then he imagined what it would take for him to
find out.

His mystery woman was currently having an intense
conversation with the leader of the group, who was gesturing wildly toward the
entrance of the hell.  The younger woman was much calmer and seemed to be
advocating a different course of action.  The rest of the group watched the two
discuss the situation, then slowly drifted into two groups, with more of them
moving toward the stocking woman.   

That did not sit well with the older woman.

The older woman said something to the stocking woman
that was shocking enough to make most of the group gasp, then she turned on her
heel and marched toward the entrance of Dill’s, motioning for the other women
to join her.  After a moment’s hesitation, most of the women who’d sided with
her followed.  The stocking woman and her group held back.

Just as the older woman was about to enter Dill’s,
two large men exited the building.  Hal knew them to be the servants charged
with keeping peace in the establishment.  A third man exited after them.  It
was Conrad Patton, the manager of Dill’s.  He had a slight cockney accent and a
charm that was exceeded only by his ruthlessness.  Only a foolish man angered
Conrad Patton, whose enemies were known to either suffer accidents that left
them physically incapacitated or to disappear all together.

Words were exchanged between Patton and the older woman. 
While Hal couldn’t quite make them out, he could tell things became heated
quickly, although it looked like Patton and his men were exercising a great
deal of restraint.

Suddenly, the woman spit on the ground a few inches
from Patton, and Hal could see the immediate change in the man’s countenance. 
The stocking woman must have seen it, as well, because she stepped between the
older woman and Patton, who looked like he was about to unleash his formidable temper.

Hal started across the street without even thinking
about it.

“You’re not going to get involved in this, are you?”
asked Francis, who leisurely followed.  “Don’t you have to get home to your
dear brother?”

“I can’t very well leave the ladies in danger, can
I?” asked Hal, even though most of his attention was focused on only one member
of the group.  The one who was currently standing between the older woman and
the wrath of one of the most dangerous men in London.

“At least I shall never be bored when I’m with you,”
said Francis, as he caught up to his friend.

By the time they reached the entrance, a small crowd
had gathered.  Three young lordlings in their cups were wagering on how long
the disturbance would last, while several upstairs windows had been opened to
allow Dill’s patrons to watch the entertainment.  The reform ladies huddled
together for safety, but after a smile from Hal they parted to let him and
Francis through.  By the time they reached the entrance, it was obvious
Patton’s patience was wearing thin.

“You and your ilk shall face damnation,” yelled the older
woman to Patton, despite his standing only inches away from her.  “It would
serve you right to have this unholy building burned to the ground around you.”

“I don’t take kindly to threats,” said Patton. 
“Nasty things happen to them who try to hurt me or my business.”

The stocking woman turned to him, trying to calm the
situation.  “I’m sure Mrs. Seton does not mean you or your establishment harm,
Mr. Patton.  Nor is our protest focused directly at any one establishment.”

“This man is the devil’s own spawn!” shouted Mrs.
Seton to the crowd around her.

“Mrs. Seton!” said Hal’s stocking woman.  “I am
quite sure you are not helping the situation.”

“I’m certainly doing more than you,” replied the
woman.  “And I shall not stand for this any longer.”  With that, she slapped
one of Patton’s enforcers, then the other.  The first exercised admirable
restraint.  But the second took a menacing step forward.

“Patton,” said Hal, with a slight slur to his
voice.  “I thought no finer entertainment could be found than inside your good
establishment.  You did not tell me you were producing theatricals in the
street.”  That elicited a few laughs from the male onlookers both on the street
and at the upstairs windows.  More importantly, it seemed to calm the large
servant who’d been on the verge of violence.  

Patton produced one of the smiles he employed on the
peers he so enjoyed fleecing.  “Good evening Lord Henry, Mr. Francis.  I’m
sorry for the commotion, but do step inside.”

“I appreciate the offer, Patton, and I shall do just
that very thing,” said Hal.  “But I cannot leave these lovely ladies
unattended.”  He smiled at Mrs. Seton, who looked like she wanted to slap him
for the trouble.  But as he turned his charm on the other women, he sensed a
gradual thawing of the crowd.  Right up until he smiled at the one woman he was
most interested in impressing. 

The stocking woman simply stared at him with one
brow raised.  “My lord, do you think to charm us unto silence? “

“Why?  Is it working?”  When no response was
forthcoming, he continued.  “Pray forgive me if I offended you, Miss…..”  He
waited for her to supply her name.

He waited in vain.

“My lord, it would be most improper of me to give
you my name without benefit of introduction,” said the stocking woman with an
accent Hal couldn’t quite place.  But there was no mistaking her hint of amusement
at his obvious ploy.  “My colleagues and I are trying to impress upon gentlemen
such as yourself that a house of gaming is not the type of establishment they
should frequent.”

So the little minx wouldn’t back down.  Perhaps it
was time to show her the streets were no place for a lady late at night.  “Then
what type of ‘house,’ do you think would be suitable for men such as Mr.
Francis and me?  We have recently come from quite an interesting one.”

The implication was not lost on any of the women nor
on Patton, who was watching the exchange with some amusement.

“I’ll thank you not to speak of such debauchery, you
scoundrel,” said Mrs. Seton.  “If you were a man of any decency, you would
immediately apologize.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” said Hal with a nod in her
direction, “but I was speaking to your charming associate.”

“I believe,” said the stocking woman, “that the
‘house’ you should most concern yourself with is your home.  Unless you are too
inebriated to find it.”

There was a choked sound behind her as Patton
stifled a laugh.  Francis felt no such reticence and enjoyed himself loudly.

Hal found it hard not to laugh himself.  He might be
the worse the wear for drink, but not so cupshot as to miss both the humor and
irony.  He was making no progress charming the woman, which was a bit unusual. 
He wasn’t an arrogant man, but he was an observant one.  Women – both improper
and upstanding – tended to, if not melt, then at least soften around him.  It
was actually refreshing to find one who seemed to have little use for him. 
Before he could explore the intriguing possibilities she presented, the Watch
arrived.

“Wot’s goin’ on ‘ere?” asked the larger of the two
uniformed officers.

“Thank heaven you’ve come,” said Mrs. Seton.  “You
should arrest this man for harassing my friend.  Then you can tell this
whoremonger….”  She pointed her rather bony finger at Patton.  “…to let us into
his business so we can shame the men inside.”

“Mrs. Seton,” said the stocking woman, “I still do
not think that is a wise course of action.”

“Be quiet!” said the older woman.  “I’m in charge
here.”

“Actually, I’m in charge,” said the officer, with
wary glances at both Patton and the two lords who’d been speaking to the
ladies.  “And there’s laws against people creatin’ a disturbance outside a
place of business.  I’m afraid you ladies will have to take yer protest
somewhere else.”

“This is preposterous!” said Mrs. Seton.

“It’s also the law,” said the officer.  “And you
wouldn’t want us to ‘ave to take you to Bow Street.”

It looked like Mrs. Seton might want that very
thing, but the stocking woman turned to the other ladies who appeared more than
ready to retreat.  “I believe the prudent action would be to decamp so we can
fight another day,” she said.  “It looks like Mr. Patton and his police force
have made their position clear.”

Hal watched as she began herding the women away from
Dill’s.  He hadn’t missed her implication that this section of the Watch was
bought and paid for by Patton.  He suspected she was right.  He saw Patton and
the officers exchange a meaningful glance.  Then he made a move to follow the
stocking woman, until Francis nudged his elbow.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Dill’s.  “Surely you
can stay out just a bit longer, can’t you?”

“I shall spot you ten pounds each,” said Patton, “It’s
a reward for helping to move the ladies on their way.  It’s the least I can do
for two lords such as yourself.”

“What say you, Hal?’ asked Francis once again.

Hal was torn between wanting to catch up with the
stocking woman he’d thought so much about during the past few weeks and joining
his friend in the hell.  Considering how little progress he’d made with the
woman, he took the sure thing.

“I suppose another hour wouldn’t hurt,” said Hal, as
he followed his friend into Dill’s.

CHAPTER TWO

Melanie Sutton wasn’t a morning person.  The sun
streaming through her window shortly after dawn did not produce the desire to
rise and start a new day.  It made her want to throw something, then roll over
and go back to sleep. 

It wasn’t that she was a lazy person, prone to
sleeping the day away.  She was quite the opposite.   She enjoyed walking,
which was a remnant of her days in America where she was able to walk through
the streets of Philadelphia without a maid trailing behind her.  Just the
thought of her old life made her a bit wistful, but she refused to be sad when
her new life offered so many opportunities.

It’s not that her old life had been so bad, with the
notable exception of losing both her parents when she’d been but ten years
old.  Not a day went by that she didn’t miss them.  Her Aunt Shirley had
grudgingly taken her in.   And while her maternal aunt hadn’t been the most
loving of guardians, Mel had never been hungry or without shelter.  She’d even
received a thorough education at a Quaker school, which is where she’d first
become involved with reform work.  Aunt Shirley had thought the reform
activities were a waste of time, but she hoped Mel might learn enough to
support herself as a governess or, even more promisingly, meet a man to marry.

Neither of those plans came to fruition.  Aunt
Shirley died when Mel was nineteen, and even though she thought herself capable
of being on her own, her Uncle Frederick, the Earl of Heffner, had insisted she
come to England.  She only learned later that he and his wife Evelyn had wanted
her to move in with them immediately after her parents’ death, but it had been
Shirley who insisted she remain in America.  Mel wasn’t sure why her aunt had
done that, though perhaps the guardian stipend she received from Melanie’s
trust had something to do with it. 

Or mayhap she simply hadn’t wanted to be alone. 

So, six months earlier, Mel had moved to London to
live with her aunt and uncle and their daughter Mary, who was a year younger
than Mel and about to make her come-out.  It was her aunt and uncle’s wish for
the two girls to make their debuts together.  While Melanie cared little for
social consequence, Uncle Frederick and Aunt Evelyn were two of the most loving
people she’d ever known.  She didn’t want to hurt their feelings by refusing a
kindness they wanted to bestow.

So earlier that year, she’d donned her white gowns
and accompanied her family to any number of balls and
ton
events.  And
while Mary had delighted in the social whirl, Mel had sat quietly amongst the
wallflowers and chaperones.  At least she did that whenever Aunt Evelyn wasn’t
looking.  Her good-intentioned aunt had thrown her in the path of any number of
eligible gentlemen but none of them had really interested Mel.

And it was clear, at least to Mel, that none of them
had fancied her.

It had taken her a while to learn the intricacies of
a proper British conversation.  It seemed ladies were never allowed to express
an opinion about any subject other than the weather, the latest fashions or how
splendid the ball/luncheon/musicale was.  She wasn’t sure how she was supposed
to get to know a gentleman if she couldn’t engage him in a real conversation. 
She certainly couldn’t agree to marry anyone simply because he had a title and
a certain amount of income.  Although, those seemed to be the criteria ladies
of her acquaintance were most interested in.  Even her cousin Mary seemed more
interested in title and income than taking the real measure of a man.