Page 21 of Rakes & Reticules
That didn’t portend well.
Hopefully, Chandler might have information about the mysterious leaver of threatening notes.
Fletcher nodded as he crossed to Chandler.
“Do let me know if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, won’t you, Sean?”
“Aye, sir.” His cheeks unnaturally flushed, the boy ducked his head.
The last thing Fletcher needed was for the lad to spread whatever ailed his sister and quite possibly himself amongst the other employees. Despite Sean’s reluctance, wisdom decreed Fletcher ought to take the boy home and check on his sister.
Yes. That was what Fletcher would do—right after finding out what Chandler couldn’t or wouldn’t say in front of the boy.
CHAPTERTWO
De la Chance’s main gaming salon
A few tense heartbeats later
From beneath her eyelashes, Siobhan covertly watched Mr. Westbrook leave. Her breathing didn’t resume a normal cadence until he’d disappeared, and the tension in her rigid shoulders eased.
She feared she’d given herself away this morning.
The way Mr. Westbrook probed her with his bottle-green eyes, she felt certain he could see all of her secrets—see behind her carefully constructed façade and realize she was a fully grown female at seven and twenty.
Thank goodness she’d inherited her mother’s petiteness, and with her hair tightly braided and pinned under Father’s cast-off flat hat, she passed for a boy.
Fletcher Westbrook held to a strict code of honor, and Siobhan felt certain he’d dismiss her if he discovered her secret. But the truth was, she’d tried finding employment as a woman for three months with no success other than disgusting offers from even more repugnant men. By that time, what little money Da had left behind was gone.
Desperation drove her to don Da’s old coat and Paddy’s trousers and to apply atDe la Chance. She’d almost wept with relief when Mr. Westbrook had hired her. Now, at least, she could ensure her stepbrother and half-sister wouldn’t starve, and they had a roof over their heads, though the drafty single room they called home scarcely qualified as such.
Still, their humble accommodations were far better than the streets. If Siobhan scrimped, the food Mrs. Dough provided fed them and Siobhan’s wages covered the rent and other necessities, such as a candle to teach her siblings at night.
Months ago, she’d given up hope that Da and Maura would return. Not for a second did Siobhan believe they’d abandoned her and the younger children. No, something awful must’ve happened. The not knowing was almost as bad as imagining all the dark things that had kept her beloved Da and kind stepmother of twelve years from returning to their offspring.
Only five years older than Siobhan, Maura had become the older sister Siobhan had never had, and she’d never resented Maura. Rather, it had pleased her that Da had found love again, after Mam had succumbed to a fever when Siobhan was eight. She adored having a little brother, and when Kimber came along, their family had been complete.
After Siobhan’s parents’ disappearance, Maura’s sister, Finola Florry, allowed them to remain at her lodging house. Yet the gesture hadn’t been entirely benevolent. She’d moved them to a single room rather than the two bedchambers and sitting area the family had occupied since arriving from Ireland last year. Finola insisted Siobhan also pay weekly rent, proclaiming she wasn’t a charity—that she had bills too.
Kimber and Paddy performed chores around the boarding house for their maternal aunt: chopping wood, dishes, cleaning, laundry, and taking out slop buckets.
Finola said their unpaid work compensated for the low rent she charged.
What a load of manure.
Finola Florry exploited her young niece and nephew because they feared she’d evict them if they refused to do her bidding. It was as unlikely as the milkman delivering fresh milk every morning that they could find other affordable accommodations.
After finishing arranging the chairs, Siobhan made her way to the kitchen.
In truth, she felt poorly and longed for a cup of tea, but that wasn’t what had her nervous as a cat on hot coals.
Shehadseen something last night.
In fact, she’d invertedly become party to the offense—all because she’d been offered a pound in payment—a veritable fortune to a pauper like herself.
When the elegant lady withdrew the innocent-looking letter from her beautifully beaded reticule along with a pound note, Siobhan hadn’t seen any harm in delivering it to Mr. Westbrook’s office.
“I’ve admired him for so long, you see.” The beautiful redhead blinked her big brown eyes, framed by charcoal-darkened lashes.
