Page 25 of My Fair Lord

“What are you doing here?” he asked brusquely. “We aren’t supposed to be meeting for another two days.”

“I’ve been forced to bring our meeting forward. Now, seeing you in this sorry state, I wonder if I have taken on more than is wise! Good afternoon to you, Mr Blake. Dottie, we’re leaving.”

The maid stood. Miss Wakechild turned on her heel, pulling her veil back over her face as she walked towards the door, and with her went Ned’s opportunity for a quiet place to lie low. Cursing between his split lips, he downed the rest of his pint and chased after them.

* * *

Florence walked out of the Admiral Nelson and heaved a mighty sigh of frustration. Mr Blake had clearly gotten into a fight. Presumably, it was the result of taking on another disreputable job. She adjusted her veil and turned to her maid.

“Come along, Dottie, our business here is done.”

“Miss Wakechild, please wait.” Mr Blake appeared in the doorway. Florence’s belly gave a little flip as if it were happy to see him, which was so far from the truth to be laughable.

She flicked her hand towards him. “Go back inside. Drink your beer and nurse your injuries. We have nothing more to say to each other. I see you are completely the wrong person for my proposal.”

She winced and her previously traitorous belly now twisted as she saw all her plans going up in smoke.

“How could you get involved in violence!” she exclaimed.

“Let me explain. It’s not what it looks like,” Mr Blake said, moving slowly towards her. “I haven’t been brawling.”

She should hear what he had to say before rejecting him. There was absolutely no way she could find anyone else at such short notice. “Really?”

She put her hands on her hips and stared him down, realising belatedly that Dottie was watching with fascination. She was twenty-two and had been Florence’s personal maid for six years, rising from being a general chambermaid to being something closer to a companion and friend. She was perfectly entitled to be nosy, having been summoned on Florence’s excursion to the pub, a place she could hardly imagined they would end up in. Thank goodness she knew Dottie would act with complete discretion. She stuck her hand into her bag and gave Dottie a handful of coins.

“I need to have a conversation with Mr Blake. Please go and look in that bookshop. See if you can’t find us something new to read while we’re in the countryside. Choose whatever you like.”

Dottie hurried off eagerly, Florence having given her the ultimate inducement. She was a bright girl who was educated well beyond what was necessary for her station (or as many would unfairly consider, her race) in life. In Florence’s opinion, she should be a schoolteacher, not drawing baths and sticking combs into Florence’s hair.

“Mr Blake, you have approximately five minutes to explain, before Dottie returns with an armful of new books. She never wastes time browsing.”

“Thank you,” Mr Blake said. “I had hoped to look less alarming by the time we met. I really didn’t want to jeopardise the arrangement. I intend to agree to your proposal, with a couple of minor requests.”

He looked and sounded sincere. She would never get an opportunity like this again. Now that an actual suitor had appeared, she needed his help more than she could let on. She was on the verge of accepting him but hesitated, knowing she often acted too eagerly.

“I’m very tempted to take you on as a project,” she said with as much haughtiness as she could manage, “but before I do, I need to know who you have been fighting and what you were carrying the other day when you involved me. It’s one thing taking part in a deception such as I am proposing and quite another to bring my family into connection with the law. If we do this, we’ll be going to my brother-in-law’s estate in Cheshire in order to carry out the lessons somewhere less visible. I need to know if you are involved in anything criminal and if I’m likely to put myself or my family in danger. I absolutely cannot have them connected with scandal or criminality.”

Mr Blake’s fingers strayed to his jaw and he rubbed at the bruise. It looked very painful and she couldn’t help the pang of sympathy that shot through her.

“Cheshire? Well, I could do with leaving Liverpool so that’s ideal. Miss Wakechild, I can promise I am not a criminal. The men who were pursuing me the other day, however, were definitely not what we’d call desirable figures.”

“That isn’t an answer,” Florence said.

“You are relentless, aren’t you,” Blake said, giving her a slight grin.

“So I’m often told.” She stared back directly, not smiling.

“Very well. A young man in my acquaintance had inadvisably got himself entangled with a young woman—note I don’t use the term lady—and while in her company had been embroiled in gambling. He went beyond his means and as a pledge, he left a ring that would have identified the family and caused extreme embarrassment to his father. I took on the commission of charming myself into the game and retrieving the ring. When the men realised that they had lost the opportunity to blackmail a particularly prominent person, they decided to try to retrieve the ring.”

He inclined his head towards Florence in something approaching a bow. “Thanks to your participation, they didn’t find me and I was able to return it to its rightful owner. He and his father were extremely grateful.”

He gave her an open smile and she was struck again by how charming he could be. Perhaps a viscount was too low. Should she make him an earl or marquis?

“Is that why you were at the Huskisson building later that afternoon? I saw you from my father’s window, though I doubt you saw me. Does the person in question have an office there?” Florence asked. She suddenly connected dots and, forgetting she was angry with him, leaned forward eagerly. “Is it someone I might know?”

Mr Blake rolled his eyes. “You’re too sharp for your own good. You almost certainly know them, but on my honour, I’m not going to tell you the name.”

“Well, that’s a real shame,” Florence said. “But I suppose it’s good that at least you are a man of your word.”