Page 44 of Tender Blackguard

Straightening her spine, Lark forced herself to meet his gaze. “Not at all, my lord.”

His crystalline gaze narrowed and a dark intensity flashed across his features. “I don’t believe you, madam. Something has you uncharacteristically distracted.”

Lark refused to say more. She likely wouldn’t have been able to anyway with how his gaze hardened to sharp points as he stared at her. She wasn’t exactly frightened by his intensity, nor even intimidated. But something fierce rushed through her as she stared back at him. Something like...anticipation mixed with desperate defiance.

Then, in the combative silence, his expression began to shift. So subtly, she nearly didn’t notice. But his eyes started to reflect a depth she hadn’t seen him display before.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “It was you last night. Wasn’t it?”

Alarm spiked through her blood, but she forced herself to scowl with gentle confusion. “What do you mean, my lord?”

“At Dryden’s.” This time, his tone held more confidence, as though her response had simply served to convince him further.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sighed as he rose to his feet. Lark refused to step back. “Are you a thief, Mrs. Evans?”

She lifted her chin. “Not anymore.”

As he stared at her—studied her in the lengthening silence—his angled features hardened into a look that suggested frustration. “If you’re no thief, then what reason could you’ve possibly had to break into Lord Dryden’s home?”

Lark held her tongue.

The marquess stepped forward. There was a dark shadow in his gaze and a harshness about his mouth as he stood in front of her. “Tell me. Why were you there?”

Lark took a heavy breath. Her belly twisted and her chest ached as the truth rose up through her throat. There were a thousand reasons for her not to trust this man. But everything inside her urged her to answer him honestly. Tipping her head back to meet his gaze, she replied, “I’m looking for a friend. She disappeared some weeks ago.”

The only change in him was the bunching of muscles in his jaw as he stared at her. For a moment, she felt as though he saw right into the heart of her and understood far more than she’d revealed in her reply.

“Go on, Mrs. Evans.”

Now that she’d exposed her true purpose, there seemed little reason to hide the rest. “She took a position as personal maid to Lord Dryden’s three daughters nearly six months ago. Several weeks ago, I received a cryptic message from her. Begging my forgiveness.” Lark paused to swallow past the hard lump in her throat. Meeting the marquess’s glinting gaze, she added, “She urged me not to look for her and warned me to stay away from Curzon Street.”

“So, of course, that’s exactly where you went.” Warfield’s jaw tensed even more. “You snuck into Dryden’s house seeking answers,” he noted calmly. “Did you find any?”

After only a brief hesitation, she replied, “No.”

Though she’d given up so many secrets already, some tenuous grip she still had on self-preservation and loyalty to her friend kept her from mentioning the letters.

“You play a very risky game on your friend’s behalf. She must mean a great deal to you.”

Lark considered saying nothing to that, but as Harriet’s image arose in her mind, she suddenly didn’t want to be the only person who thought of Harriet and worried about her. With a deep breath, she looked down at her clasped hands. “I found her on one of the coldest days in a frigid February. Trembling and half-starved, huddled behind a pile of refuse. She was so small, barely four or five years old by my estimate, but her story isn’t so unusual, I’m afraid. Sold by her mother into work for a woman who didn’t have the patience for such a young apprentice, she was eventually tossed out.”

Lark lifted her gaze again and met the marquess’s intent stare. “I could see right away that she’d not survive long on the streets. Not even with me as protector. She was too trusting. Too soft and sweet. She was of no use to the gang and would’ve been just another mouth to feed. I was told to get rid of her, take her to another neighborhood and leave her.”

She’d considered it. It would have been the right thing to do for the gang and the only family she’d ever known. But as she’d taken the small girl’s hand and looked down into her trusting, soulful eyes, she hadn’t been able to follow through.

“Every girl in the rookery knows about the Yeardley Asylum for Girls,” she continued. “A formidable place that plucks hapless, destitute girls from the streets and reforms them into proper little servants for the upper classes. Though Harriet was younger than the age they typically accepted, they agreed to take her in if I committed to staying as well. Harriet flourished in the firm structure and discipline they provided and soon became their star pupil.”

When she paused then, the marquess noted dryly, “Not so for you, I imagine.”

“I did what was necessary. For Harriet. The rules were...many. And I was fourteen when I decided to leave the peril of the streets behind me. After the relative independence I’d known for so long, it took time to adjust. But there was a warm bed every night and two meals a day. True luxury by comparison to what I’d have been able to provide Harriet as a house thief, so I endured. Eventually, I earned a position in a reputable household.”

“And worked your way to housekeeper,” he added.

Lark nodded. “Harriet and I dreamed of saving enough money to eventually retire in a little cottage in a country village somewhere.” When his brows lowered, she added, “Foolish, I know. Neither of us would have any idea what to do in the country, but it kept us motivated, I suppose.”

“And hopeful.”

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