Page 38 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
Once she had stepped out of the house while clearly arguing with the butler who had seemed reluctant to hand over her winter bonnet, and walked briskly around the square without looking up from the sidewalk. The second time, only the day before yesterday, she and a young girl—bundled up against the cold—had hurried to a waiting carriage.
And now the front door opened again and Fawkes’s gaze shot to it over the top of the paper. He held his breath…
And was rewarded.
That same little girl burst from the door, laughing, tugging Ellie along. And despite the frown on the butler behind them—did the man approve ofanythingshe did?—Ellie seemed happy.
As he watched, she lifted a gloved hand in front of her mouth when she chuckled and called, “Slow down, slow down, young lady. The square will still be there!”
“The snow might not, Ellie! You know how fast it melts!”
Ellie merely shook her head, and stumbled after the girl who still held her hand. “The sun is already—slow down!”
Fawkes had seen what she’d seen; a delivery cart trotting along the main road. Although he didn’t think the pair were in any danger, he lowered the paper and tensed his muscles, wondering what he could do to help them.
Nothing, it turned out, because the girl yanked Ellie hard and they hopped up onto the stones which surrounded the gate to the square.
“Oh look, Ellie, it’s already unlocked! Come on!”
Theoretically the residents of the square would have access to a key which would unlock the gates around the grassy area. This is why Fawkes had been so thoroughly ignored by passersby; they assumed he had every right to be there.
Lockpicking. Another skill to lay at Blackrose’s feet.
Aye, the man was an arsehole, and he and his brother had stolen much from Fawkes. But the skills he’d learned in Blackrose’s employ were still useful, he could admit.
“Merida Ann!”
The little girl halted in the middle of bending over and looked up guiltily. “Yes, Ellie?”
“Were you about to scoop up snow to throw at me?”
“No, Ellie.”
“Were you planning on scooping upleavescovered in snow to throw at me?”
The little girl sighed. “Yes, Ellie.”
“And what did I tell you about that last time we went out?”
Sounding as if she was parroting an oft-repeated lesson, the girl sighed again and said, “I shouldn’t throw snow unless I know the person wants to have snow thrown at her. ButEllie, it’sChristmastime! We’resupposedto have snow fights!”
Fawkes saw Ellie sigh. “I know, honeybear. But this is London, and there is no telling what is under the snow and leaves you are about to scoop up, and if I come back with snow marring all my black, I shall be frowned at quite severely.”
The girl—Merida—folded her arms. “You’re in charge of the servants, aren’t you?”
“I wish.”
Fawkes doubted he was supposed to have heard that mutter as the memory of what she’d said about the servants being loyal to her husband’s family echoed.Fawkes’s family.
But Ellie rallied. “You cankickas much snow as you would like. And after a few turns around the square, we can walk to the river.”
The girl thrust her fist into the air with a cry of triumph, then took off around the square.
Fawkes, his bench half-hidden by a denuded shrub, watched Ellie’s eyes follow the girl as her lips curled. She didn’t hide her smile this time, and he wondered if it was because she didn’t think anyone was watching.
Carefully, she picked up her skirts and began a far more sedate stroll. One which would take her right in front of Fawkes’s bench.
Knowing he couldn’t escape her notice, Fawkes decided to meet her. He didn’t bother folding up the paper, and instead shoved it to one side and rose.
