business, laying out one’s personal pain for someone else’s perusal.
So why the devil had he blurted the thing out over eggs and toast?
Maybe it was some sort of attempt to repair whatever damage had been done by the kiss. Or maybe it was to repay her for that kiss.
No, not repay her. He didn’t like the sound of that, as if he’d purchased her favors. She’d not sold her touch. Rather, she had given him a part of herself she’d never given anyone else. And she’d told him of her longing for adventure and excitement. He’d wager that wasn’t something she shared with many.
Maybe he’d simply wanted to give her some part of himself in return.
Or maybe he had a bit of the drink left in his system. Never mind that he’d not imbibed enough to be feeling the effects hours later. The drink would explain his odd behavior. It would also explain the equally strange fact that he didn’t feel at all embarrassed by it. He wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable.
Before, with his friends, recounting the fight with his father had left him feeling drained, even a little sick.
Now, he felt…a bit cheerful, really.
There’d been a sick moment or two in the retelling, but then Esther had teased him about his ridiculous moniker and engaged him in a ludicrous discussion about the minimum number of bullets required to earn it, and now he felt quite like his usual self.
She had cheered him up, he realized with no small amount of surprise.
Esther Walker-Bales, that prickly, unpredictable, infuriating woman, had cheered him up.
Eight
“Something of a step up from rooms over a grocer on Commercial Street,” Samuel commented.
Esther peeked out the carriage curtains at the long line of houses on Apton Street. Bethnal Green was hardly a desirable section of town, but this particular street was located a fair distance from the notorious Old Nichol Street rookery and appeared to be solidly middle class, with modest but well-tended homes. Which made it more of a leap than a step.
“Perhaps he wasn’t a grocer,” she ventured. “Perhaps he owned the building in Spitalfields and the grocer was his tenant. It was some time ago. People confuse details. Or we could have the wrong street.” This last was unlikely. Apton was the closest thing to Apple or any fruit-based street name they’d found in the area.
“Why would he have used the Spitalfields address on the letter he sent to your mother?”
“I don’t know.” She motioned at the door. “Let’s see if we can find out, shall we?”
“There is something we need to discuss before we begin this search in earnest.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “Esther, we don’t know anything about this man other than that he had an affair with your mother, the wife of Will Walker.”
She looked down at their joined hands. His was warm and strong and nearly swallowed her own. “You think they all moved in the same circles,” she guessed. “That he might be a criminal and a threat.”
“I wouldn’t wager on it.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “If George Smith always knew of you, then he knew Will Walker was the man raising you. If he had any desire to betray either of you, he could have managed it years ago.”
“Yes, that was my thought as well.”
“But the possibility of betrayal still remains.”
She nodded and suddenly wished he’d not released her hand so quickly. “He might be a different man now.”
“Yes.”
George Smith’s circumstances might have changed over the years. Or he may have always been the sort of man who wouldn’t stoop to betraying a child but could live with betraying a grown woman. Or he may have remained unaware of her existence all these years.
“Are you prepared for such a possibility?” Samuel asked.
“Yes. I mean to lie to him,” she admitted. “At least initially. It’s been my plan from the start. I’ll tell him my siblings died in an outbreak of influenza and I married and moved to
So why the devil had he blurted the thing out over eggs and toast?
Maybe it was some sort of attempt to repair whatever damage had been done by the kiss. Or maybe it was to repay her for that kiss.
No, not repay her. He didn’t like the sound of that, as if he’d purchased her favors. She’d not sold her touch. Rather, she had given him a part of herself she’d never given anyone else. And she’d told him of her longing for adventure and excitement. He’d wager that wasn’t something she shared with many.
Maybe he’d simply wanted to give her some part of himself in return.
Or maybe he had a bit of the drink left in his system. Never mind that he’d not imbibed enough to be feeling the effects hours later. The drink would explain his odd behavior. It would also explain the equally strange fact that he didn’t feel at all embarrassed by it. He wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable.
Before, with his friends, recounting the fight with his father had left him feeling drained, even a little sick.
Now, he felt…a bit cheerful, really.
There’d been a sick moment or two in the retelling, but then Esther had teased him about his ridiculous moniker and engaged him in a ludicrous discussion about the minimum number of bullets required to earn it, and now he felt quite like his usual self.
She had cheered him up, he realized with no small amount of surprise.
Esther Walker-Bales, that prickly, unpredictable, infuriating woman, had cheered him up.
Eight
“Something of a step up from rooms over a grocer on Commercial Street,” Samuel commented.
Esther peeked out the carriage curtains at the long line of houses on Apton Street. Bethnal Green was hardly a desirable section of town, but this particular street was located a fair distance from the notorious Old Nichol Street rookery and appeared to be solidly middle class, with modest but well-tended homes. Which made it more of a leap than a step.
“Perhaps he wasn’t a grocer,” she ventured. “Perhaps he owned the building in Spitalfields and the grocer was his tenant. It was some time ago. People confuse details. Or we could have the wrong street.” This last was unlikely. Apton was the closest thing to Apple or any fruit-based street name they’d found in the area.
“Why would he have used the Spitalfields address on the letter he sent to your mother?”
“I don’t know.” She motioned at the door. “Let’s see if we can find out, shall we?”
“There is something we need to discuss before we begin this search in earnest.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “Esther, we don’t know anything about this man other than that he had an affair with your mother, the wife of Will Walker.”
She looked down at their joined hands. His was warm and strong and nearly swallowed her own. “You think they all moved in the same circles,” she guessed. “That he might be a criminal and a threat.”
“I wouldn’t wager on it.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “If George Smith always knew of you, then he knew Will Walker was the man raising you. If he had any desire to betray either of you, he could have managed it years ago.”
“Yes, that was my thought as well.”
“But the possibility of betrayal still remains.”
She nodded and suddenly wished he’d not released her hand so quickly. “He might be a different man now.”
“Yes.”
George Smith’s circumstances might have changed over the years. Or he may have always been the sort of man who wouldn’t stoop to betraying a child but could live with betraying a grown woman. Or he may have remained unaware of her existence all these years.
“Are you prepared for such a possibility?” Samuel asked.
“Yes. I mean to lie to him,” she admitted. “At least initially. It’s been my plan from the start. I’ll tell him my siblings died in an outbreak of influenza and I married and moved to
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