Sinful Deeds (5 page)

Many people, Josephine supposed, would
say she now lived too close to the docks. Indeed, even Diana had stated her
proximity to the bustling area of town made her nervous and her friend now
preferred to meet her at one of the hotels for tea rather than at her new home.
However, being so close to the docks had been part of its appeal when she’d
been considering leaving Dante.

She
stepped off the doorstep and drew in a breath of coal-scented air. Her street
was very pleasant indeed, and she had many respectable neighbours. It was not
perhaps, as well-to-do as her previous lodgings, but they were hers. She was
paying for them all by herself. For the first time in her life, she was taking
care of herself.

Josephine
avoided the rougher parts of the area and stuck to where she could promenade
along the riverfront in relative safety. As much as she enjoyed seeing the
ships come and go, being too close to the dock workers would not be a good
idea—as Diana liked to frequently remind her as if she were some kind of foolish
child.

That
was the problem with her friends—and even with Dante. No one seemed to believe
she knew her own mind. As a widowed woman of seven and twenty had she not seen
enough in life to understand what she wanted?

But the
truth was, even though her heart throbbed with the loss every time she even
uttered his name in her mind, the independence revived her like a breath of
fresh spring air. Admittedly, the air was not fresh here but the scent of
hard-work and industry invaded her lungs, bringing with it inspiration and
anticipation.

Here,
at the forefront of England’s shipping industry, she found her artistic side
drawn forth. People, scents, and scenery mingled to create an atmosphere that
couldn’t fail to inspire. As she strolled along the riverfront, her hand
skipping over the iron bars that prevented a fall into the murky water, she
eyed a masted ship making its way down the Thames.

Several
children stood upon the iron railing to view the frigate and their smiles
brought one to her own lips. If she let herself, she could almost forget Dante.

Dante
.

She
stilled. No, it couldn’t be. She hadn’t seen him in five days. Josephine surmised
he had given up, that her message had finally broken through. Why would he be
in the area unless he was coming to see her?

But he
didn’t appear to be searching her out. He strode along in a brisk manner and
had a—she squinted—Gladstone bag in his hand. Why did he look as though he was
on his way to perform important business? What business could Dante possibly
have here? She wasn’t at all sure he’d even held a bag before. After all, he
had servants to carry his luggage for him and business didn’t appeal to him one
bit.

She
held her breath as he turned on his heel and began in her direction. Freezing,
she debated her options. Turn and scurry away? Stride past him? Wait until he
approached. To her astonishment, she didn’t have to do either. A well-dressed
gentleman stopped in front of him and greeted him with the tip of his hat
before motioning in the opposite direction of her—to the docks. Dante followed
him and Josephine had to stand on tiptoe to keep him in sight as he was
swallowed up in the crowds.

What
was
he doing? Oh Lord, she hoped he was not up to something illicit. What if
she had driven him to do something foolish like prize-fighting or some sort of
gambling of the worst kind? For all his faults, Dante had always dabbled in the
most harmless of vices. A few drinks here, a couple of wagers there. Nothing
illegal or life-threatening.

It was
no good. She would have to find out. Regardless of how she felt about him, she
needed to know he was safe.

Stuffing
her purse into the folded pocket in her skirt, she hastened along. Her shoes
tapped on the stone while her heart picked up speed a little.
Please don’t
be putting yourself in danger,
she begged him. He wasn’t a foolish man nor
was he stupid, but he could be thoughtless. If he had made some reckless
arrangement, she had to put a stop to it.

Visitors
and tourists in the area cluttered up the path, forcing her to hold her hat on
her head as she made her way past them to prevent it being knocked from her
head. She tried not to utter any words of frustration though some exceptionally
unladylike ones came to mind.

Up
ahead, a blanket of fog appeared to be climbing up the tower bridge and coming
off the water. Morning fog in London was something she was well used to and she
knew soon it would reach the riverbank and then Dante would be lost to her. She
quickened her pace.

By the
time she had made her way past the crowds, tall warehouse buildings rose up on
one side while ships, sometimes three deep, crowded the riverside. Several
barges chugged past, and she had to watch her step as ropes were coiled and
wound about the cobbled path. Goods were carried on and off the ships, forcing
her to stop or skirt around the men carrying them.

But
Dante remained in view, following the gentleman until they paused in front of a
warehouse.

Before
she could reach him, several men blocked her path. Her heart skipped into her
throat as she took note of their appearances. Scruffy, dirty, brutish sorts.
She’d been in London long enough to know that not every poor person intended
her harm, but she also recognised the glints in their eyes. She had once been
robbed at knifepoint a few years ago, and they had the same sort of air about
them. An air that said,
we wants yer belongings, and we’re going to take
them—by whatever means necessary.

Had she
been flexible enough, she may well have kicked herself. There she was, basking
in her independence, practically boasting to her friends how the area was not
nearly so bad and how it fed her artistic temperament and here she was being
approached by four men who certainly intended her harm.

The
glint of a flick-knife made blood roar through her ears in great whooshing
pulses.

“Give
us yer purse, miss,” the one with the knife said slowly while he approached.

She
hated to do it, but she’d have to. “Dante! Help!” Josephine backed away until
the hard touch of the railings pressed against her.

The men
spun when they heard footsteps approach. She tried not to grin in triumph when
Dante and the other gentleman ran up behind them. The men fled before they
reached them but the other man shouted something about finding a bobby as he
darted after them. Dante paused, his eyebrows lifted in surprise when he
realised it was her.

“Josephine?”
He stepped forward and grabbed her arms while running his gaze up and down her.
“Are you harmed?”

“No,
no, I am quite well.”

“Did
they frighten you?”

“A
little,” she admitted.

“You
shouldn’t be in this area. It’s known for thieves and pickpockets.”

“I know
it is but I—” What could she say? That she wanted to stop him from getting into
trouble but somehow found herself deep in it instead? “What are you doing here?
Tell me you are not doing something reckless.”

“Reckless?”
He released her arms and rubbed his forehead.

Dash it
all, why did he have to look so handsome? With a clean-shaven jaw, a tall hat,
and an elegant jacket, he had lost his air of country gent and instead looked
more refined than ever. She couldn’t say which she preferred, but he certainly
managed to take her breath away. His gaze locked onto hers and she knew she had
no chance of breathing now.

“What
could you possibly think I’m doing here?”

She
licked her lips and debated this. “I-I don’t really know. But I—”

His top
lip lifted in one corner, drawing attention to the full lines of them.
Goodness, how she hungered to feel them on her skin again. If only this
unbearable ache would leave her. She thought she had been doing quite admirably
these past few days, but apparently setting eyes on him again sent her straight
back to her lovesick, pathetic state.

“Did
you think perhaps I was here to keep an eye on you?”

“Well,
I—” That had been her second thought she supposed, but she wasn’t sure which
was better to admit to.

“I’ll
admit working in the same area as you held appeal.”

She
stared at him for several breaths. “W-working?”

His
grin widened. “Yes, Jo-Jo, working. I am helping my brother with his coffee
ventures. Paperwork and suchlike.” Dante waved a hand. “I cannot say I’ve quite
grasped it all, but I’ve put in several full days already this week. It seems I
have a knack for negotiations.”

Josephine
couldn’t help but smile. Negotiations, of course. Dante could probably charm
all the shipping merchants into bringing the produce in for free if he tried
hard enough.

He
gripped her hands suddenly, and tingles raced up and down her arms. Had she
been expecting the touch she might not have flinched, but she hadn’t been at
all prepared.

“You’re
shaking. Did you have an awful fright?”

The
concern in his eyes almost had her unravelling. Independence was all well and
good until you needed someone. She almost hadn’t realised she’d been missing
his company. For all his faults, the times when he was actually around, he
really did show her the upmost care.

“I am
well, I promise.”

Dante
glanced around. “Mr Bellamy seems to have decided to chase down the scoundrels
himself by the looks of it. Why do you not come into the office and have a sweet
cup of tea?”

No
would have been the right answer. Turning
around and heading home would have been the correct action. Instead, she nodded
and allowed him to escort her into one of the warehouses. Filled with boxes and
trolleys for transporting them, the tall building made her feel vulnerable and
small. Or was that Dante? Her legs certainly felt wobbly and little like a
newborn foal’s as she followed him up a set of wooden stairs to a small office.

The
scent of coffee and sawdust hung in the air but somehow Dante’s cologne reached
her over it. It was the same one he always wore—Florida Water—and the familiar
scent eased her hammering heart.

He bade
her to sit down, and she did so, unable to protest. She stared around at the
sheaths of paper and the dim light of the office space. Two desks occupied it
while a large bookcase dominated the rear wall. Long windows let in some light,
but the fog had indeed rolled in, diminishing their effect.

Josephine
tried to reconcile this environment and the image of Dante standing in it. Had
he really said he was working? But why? He didn’t have the wealth of his
brother, the marquess, but the estate was rich indeed and had always provided
well for the brothers—all seven of them.

Dante
stepped outside of the office for a moment and bellowed down to someone for
tea. She didn’t catch their answer, but he strode back inside so she assumed
tea was coming. At present, the warmth and sugar would be most welcome. She
needed to find her bearings. Was it simply that the men had given her quite the
fright or was it being confronted by Dante and all these changes that was making
her feel weak and woolly-headed?

He sat
opposite her and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He grasped her
hands and rubbed them between his. The welcome warmth of his fingers made her
sigh.

“Did it
bring back memories?”

She
stared at him for a moment. Memories of what? Him touching her? Him stroking
his fingers all over her skin and pressing them into her heat until she writhed
and begged for more? She gave herself a mental shake. No, of course that wasn’t
what he meant.

“You
mean the other mugging?”

“Yes.”

“No—I
mean—a little, I suppose, but it all happened so quickly I didn’t have much
time to be scared.”

“Thank
the Lord I was there, though you should not have been in the area in the first
place.” He chucked a finger under her chin. “Don’t walk around here
unaccompanied again,” he commanded.

Josephine
nodded numbly. She should rebel. She should tell him that he couldn’t command
her anymore, that he had no say in her life. But he was right. There was no
sense in being independent and headstrong when it put one’s life in danger.

A young
man—no more than six and ten years of age—entered with a tray of tea. He placed
it down on the empty desk. “Will there by anything else, milord?”

“No,
thank you, Will.”

The boy
doffed his cap and retreated while Dante added sugar and poured in the tea. He
passed over the slightly chipped china cup, and she clutched it in both hands
while inhaling the warm scent.

“I’m
afraid we don’t have any fine china here.”

Goodness,
he almost sounded like a working man. What was going on?

“Drink
your tea, then I’ll escort you home.”

“Thank
you,” she managed weakly. While she sipped the almost scalding liquid, grateful
for how it restored her senses and soothed her dry throat, she eyed some of the
papers nearby. She recognised the names of several shipping companies. “Have
you been working here long?”