Page 91 of His Accidental Duchess

And so he would be. Not yet, though. First, there was something that must be dealt with.

The minutes ticked by, the scenery becoming gradually less genteel and more grimy. The alleyways here seemed darker and dirtier, clogged with ne’er-do-wells and men with nefarious purposes. He even spotted one or two ladies of ill repute smothering jaws and scratching at pox scars.

The carriage, naturally, attracted a good deal of attention, despite Theo having deliberately chosen the oldest one he owned. A handful of grubby children ran alongside, holding up filthy hands for coins.

Theo would have liked to have thrown them some money, but flashing one’s coin in this sort of place would only have encouraged more begging, and ultimately violence.

People, in Theo’s experience, had a great deal in common with the fish in the Amazon. The ones that, at the scent of blood, turned from fairly ordinary and non-bloodthirsty fish into raging, toothy monsters. He was sure he had read some statistic or another about a shoal of those fish being capable of stripping an elephant to the bone in so many minutes.

Or something like that.

The children fell behind, losing interest. On his way out, Theo decided, he would give them some money, then instruct the coachman to pick up the pace and leave them behind, for calmer, cleaner waters.

The coach slowed to a halt, and Theo’s stomach dropped.

“We’re here, Your Grace,” the coachman informed him. “I’ll wait.”

“Perhaps it would be better if you circled the block.”

The coachman, a man beyond middle age who’d worked for Theo for decades, pressed his lips in a thin, mulish line.

“You might come out in a hurry and need a coach at once, Your Grace. I’ll wait.”

This was a fair point. Theo smiled wryly at the coachman and climbed out. His foot immediately sank ankle-deep in a dirty puddle.

There were many such puddles on Ruffian Road. That wasn’t its real name, naturally, but most people had forgotten its real name in favor of the one it had so nicely earned for itself. Piles of rotting rubbish sat in the corners, and the streets were strewn with grime, dirt, and filthy water. A skinny dog picked its way between the rubbish piles, and there was definite movement in a nearby dark alley. To complete the picture, a wild cat yowled somewhere.

The house in front of him was surprisingly sturdy, better maintained than the other wrecks on the street. Withdrawing his steel-topped cane, Theo jammed his hat on his head and approached the door.

The bell looked half-rotten, as if the rope would give way in his hand, so he used his cane to knock sharply at the door.

There were mumblings from inside, and the door was yanked open to reveal a broad, greasy-looking woman of indeterminate age.

“What are you banging on my door for?” she snapped. “Only painted last week, that was.”

Some of the outrage left her face when she looked at Theo properly, taking in his well-cut coat and silk waistcoat.

“Oh,” she mumbled, flashing a yellow smile. “You’re a gentleman. Beg pardon, Sir.”

He forced himself to smile in return. “Not at all, Madam. You are the landlady, I presume?”

“That I am, Sir, that I am. Not looking for a room, are you?”

He allowed himself a small, genuine smile at that. “No. I am looking for Mr. Kenneth Jenkins. He boards here, yes?”

The landlady chewed on one fleshy lip. “He does, but he’s funny about who comes up to visit him. Truth be told, it’s generally ladies who come to see him.”

Oh, I’m sure it is.

Theo was ready for this. He withdrew a handful of coins from his pocket, letting them sit in his gloved palm. “Can you not make an exception?”

She beamed.

The narrow stairs creaked alarmingly under their weight. Theo automatically moved to put his hand on the railings to steady himself, but he managed to catch himself every time. The railings were clearly never cleaned or dusted.

“He should be up by now,” the landlady added, twisting to look back over her shoulder. “If he doesn’t answer the door, don’t fret. I’ve got a spare key.”

Theo tried not to think about the horror of having a landlady who could be bribed to let strangers into one’s home. The last thing he wanted to feel for this man was sympathy.

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