Page 9 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
Before his footman could reach the door, he shoved it open and leaped out. Turning back, he handed his sister down. She’d only recently returned from boarding school to live here. He’d offered to provide her with an apartment or a town house in a fancier area, but she didn’t like the notion of their mum living alone. It was his hope that in time, Fancy would convince Ettie Trewlove that it was in everyone’s best interest to leave all her sins behind.
He didn’t bother knocking, but simply opened the door, allowing Fancy to precede him into the warmth of the dwelling. Although it was impossible to tell from the outside, the inside was quite welcoming. Mick and his brothers had seen to it, gutting most of the residence and rebuilding it to ensure their mum had the comforts to which they thought she was entitled. The landlord hadn’t objected. Indeed, when Mick had confronted him, he’d been only too glad to hand over all his properties in the area for a very modest sum. Eventually Mick would raze everything and build anew. But doing that would uncover all the skeletal remains, so he bided his time.
Smiling at them, his mum shoved herself up from the plush orange and yellow brocade chair by the low fire. She never complained of being cold now that Mick had coal delivered every day. He wanted to hire a maid of all work to see to her needs, but again, her fears wouldn’t allow that. He couldn’t stand watching the tears well in her eyes—which they did anytime he suggested some change to how she lived.
She shuffled toward the small kitchen area. “I’ll put the kettle on.” Always she was offering tea.
“None for me,” he said gently. “I won’t be staying.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Why must you rush off? You’ve not been around much lately.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Surely you can spare a few minutes.”
“He can,” Fancy said, hanging up her shawl before taking over the task of preparing the tea. “While I see to this, convince him that I should have a bookshop.”
Whenever the females of this family ganged up on him, he knew his only defeats.
His mum returned to her chair and sat, placing her feet on the small, embroidered stool. “She’s always loved books. I might have done better by all of you had I known how to read better, but it was always a struggle to make sense of the letters.”
Taking the wing-backed chair opposite her, he stretched out his legs. “You did well enough by us.”
“You’ve had to work so hard.”
“I take pleasure in the work.”
“I’d like to know that sort of pleasure,” Fancy called out. “The satisfaction of accomplishment.”
“I paid for you to attend a posh school for a reason—to give you the refinement you needed to marry well.”
“Why can’t I marry and have a shop?”
“She has a point,” his mum said.
“She’ll be a lady of quality, too busy to muck about in a shop.”
“How is she going to meet a gent of quality?”
“I’m working on that.”
The woman who had raised Mick studied him intently. Most of her black hair had turned gray, and she swore to knowing which strands each son was responsible for turning. Mick feared most were a result of his actions.
“I’m worried about Gillie,” she said softly, changing the topic to one that periodically concerned her.
“She can take care of herself.” His other sister was nothing if she wasn’t self-reliant. As a child, she’d always hung on to his shirttail. Perhaps he should have been more protective, but at the time, they’d all been striving to survive.
“But managing a tavern . . .” Her voice trailed off as though she couldn’t quite decide what to make of that.
Gillie more than managed it; she owned it. Mick had seen to that. Neither of his sisters was going to be under any man’s thumb as their mum had been. He was going to make damned sure of that, no matter the cost. “I’ll stop by and see her tonight.”
Relief washed over her wrinkled features. “Thank you.”
“With that, I should be off.” He rose.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Fancy approached, holding a tray. “I’ve only just finished preparing your tea.”
Slipping a finger beneath her chin, he tilted up her face and winked at her. “Why settle for tea when Gil will give me whiskey?”
