Spending Christmas in Hell (Diamonds of London #8)

Chapter Eleven

Two hours before actual teatime, and three hours after Timothy had taken the spill off the ladder, Ashlynn told her husband she was going out to make calls to one of the neighborhoods in the Dials. He’d been drifting in and out of sleep since she’d rubbed the salve on his back, so she’d thought it would be a good time to accomplish the errand. It had already been delayed due to the unexpected wedding and life thereafter.

“I’m going with you.” He roused enough to sit upright amidst the pillows with the tiniest of winces.

She frowned from her position beside him on the wide, four-poster bed in his bedchamber where she’d kept him company while he’d dozed. Setting aside the book she’d been reading, she sighed. “I thought you meant to remain in bed until dinner.”

“I can, of course, only if you wish for the same.” There was so much innuendo in the suggestion as well as his eyes that heat fired in her cheeks.

“Um…” The fact that he was shirtless had her mouth going dry. Of course he was, for she’d needed to rub in the salve but now that he was more alert, she couldn’t help but let her gaze drift over the naked expanse of his chest. That hard, strong chest sprinkled with black hair that did nothing except enhance his defined form. “I…” What she wouldn’t give to run her palms over that skin.

But she couldn’t, not when things between them were so very confusing.

“Cat got your tongue, Lady Dashfield?” he asked in a low, thrilling voice that sent need twisting down her spine and into her belly. Then the dratted man leaned over her, cupped the side of her neck, and then kissed her with such leisure that she thought she might be driven mad.

With a tiny sigh, Ashlynn slipped a hand up that delicious chest to rest on his shoulder as she kissed him back as best she could without completely losing herself in the impromptu embrace. Eventually, she shoved him away so she could slither from the bed while her book fell to the floor with a dull thud.

“If you wish to come with me, you’ll need to put on some clothing.” Desire made her voice smokey, and when she happened to glance at the front of his buff-colored breeches, there was no doubt that he was on his way to full arousal. “And I… Well, I should…” Words completely failed her as he moved and the play of muscles beneath his skin changed caught the anemic sunlight coming in through the windows. “I need to check my appearance,” she finally said in a rush as she fled the room, not stopping until she was safely behind her own closed door.

Dear heavens the man is potent.

Needing something to occupy herself so she wouldn’t think quite so much about her husband’s looks, Ashlynn busied herself with changing into a dress she wouldn’t mind having the hem sullied from muck in the gutters. The neighborhood where she was headed wasn’t the most clean—not that London as a whole was spotless streetwise—but the slums seemed to always show a more dirty side. Serviceable half-boots followed, as did a rather worn gray pelisse trimmed with navy ribbons that matched the navy dress.

What would Dashfield think of the people she intended to call upon? Would he act offended and order her from the area even though he had already given permission for her to continue her works of charity? Or perhaps seeing how others lived might make him look at life from a different perspective.

Only time would tell. After donning a straw bonnet trimmed with navy ribbons and a cluster of rather tired navy and pink silk flowers, she exited her bedchamber… and collided with her husband.

“You have an uncanny knack for being everywhere I need to be.” If her voice was breathless as he steadied her with a hand at her hip and another at the small of her back, she ignored it.

“Yes, well, that does tend to happen when two people live in the same residence and are married to boot,” he said with a wink. There was an intensity in his brown eyes that held her captive for a moment, then he released her in order to retrieve the beaver felt top hat that had fallen from his hand when they’d collided. “Shall we proceed onto our errand?”

Her stomach growled, for her appetite had been quite poor since she’d wed the baronet, and it had nothing to do with the habit of not eating she’d fallen into before she’d met him. “I think we should. Before it snows again.” She shivered. “I don’t enjoy being out in the cold.”

“Neither do I. In fact, before we’d married, I had thought to spend the winter in somewhere warm and sunny such as Rome or Athens.”

Ashlynn lifted an eyebrow as they walked the corridor toward the stairs. “By all means, don’t let me change your mind.” Imagine traveling to the Continent where the sun would shine and there was the possibility of spending days merely watching the changing blue colors of the sea.

“Does that mean you would welcome a wedding trip of sorts?”

The inquiry nearly made her miss a step on the stairs. But he was ever attentive and wrapped an arm about her waist to keep her from falling. “I might if the circumstances were right.” That alone surprised her as much as how comforting it was to be so close to him and how safe she felt in that half-protective hold.

What am I doing? Surely, I can’t be falling for my husband.

That was never part of the plan.

“Ah.” It was all he said, but when she glanced at him as they gained the ground floor, there was a mysterious smile flirting with his lips. What did that mean?

“However, I don’t fully believe you would part with enough coin to take me on such a trip,” she hurried to say, for it wouldn’t do to let herself feel excitement for something that probably wouldn’t happen to begin with. “You counting house men are notorious for closed purse strings.”

A chuckle was his only response, drat his eyes.

When the closed carriage approached the St. Giles area near the vicinity of Covent Gardens, Ashlynn bit her bottom lip. The area of the Seven Dials was divided into seven neighborhoods, each equally horrific in poverty as the next. The streets here darted and meandered like a tangled mess of hair. Alleyways and dead ends abounded, and every street was crowded with ramshackle row houses, and those were crammed full of too many people. Oddly enough, each major “street” leading into the different neighborhoods had its own separate tavern. Not that she blamed anyone here. If they turned to alcohol and the occasional empty tryst with a tavern girl to help dull the pain of simply living, then they were welcome to it.

Who was she to judge?

She glanced at Timothy, who peered out the window with a faint frown. “It would be best if your driver dropped us somewhere and then circled about the gardens instead of parking at a curb. I wouldn’t put it past some of people here to mob the vehicle merely to tear it apart for pieces to sell.”

“It’s that bad, is it?”

“Yes.” With a nod, she confirmed it. At their feet were four large willow baskets containing loaves of day-old bread, the next batch of baby blankets she’d knitted, as well as a handful of knitted bonnets for young female children. Mrs. Copeland had tucked a few pots of salve into the baskets and the cook had included packets of jam tarts. It seemed everyone did what they could with what they had. “Also, if you have any valuables in your pockets, it’s best you leave them here. Pickpockets abound and many of them are children and quite cunning. You’d easily lose a watch, a purse, or anything else.”

“And you come here on a regular basis?” he asked as he tapped on the roof of the carriage.

“I do.” She shrugged. “I have only been accosted once, and since it’s the afternoon, many of the men should still be away at their paying positions. I never come after nightfall.”

He nodded. “Robert, let us out here, if you please.”

“Right, Sir Timothy.” Then the carriage slowed to a halt. It dipped as the driver came off the box. Seconds later, he opened the door and put down the steps. “This isn’t a safe place for the lady.”

“I’m well aware of that, but I’ll protect her as she is adamant to distribute bread and other needed items.”

Ashlynn gave the driver a small smile. “If one is blessed, they should be a blessing. My mother used to tell me that when I was a child.” It was how she’d lived her life and would continue to do so, for the divide between the rich and the poor in London was frightening.

The men exchanged an indulgent glance. Then Timothy addressed his driver. “Covent Gardens is nearby. We shouldn’t be more than an hour, I’d imagined and will meet you back here in this spot.”

“Aye. I’ll be there, and I’ve got the pistol in the box just in case.”

“Good man.” Then her husband removed two of the baskets and handed them to her. He took the other two for himself. “Eyes open all the time.”

“You as well.” After that, Robert returned to his post and slowly, the carriage moved away from their location.

“Lead the way, Lady Dashfield.”

No matter that she’d been to the area many times before, as soon as they traversed one of the streets that led deep into the particular warren of alleys and decrepit roads and the buildings blocked out the sunlight, a shiver went down her spine. Glad to have his company, she made certain to keep close to him as she made her way along the main “avenue” and then took a few side streets before being faced with a plethora of rowhouses.

Washing hung from lines strung between the houses that looked as if a giant hand had shoved them willy nilly together. Bricks were missing from many of the facades; crumbling from others. As expected, water mixed with questionable liquids in the gutters while piles of refuse lay in heaps, discards for some, opportunities for others. And like a pall cast over the area, there was a familiar and peculiar stench that encompassed unwashed bodies, human excrement, rotting food, and perhaps the smell of death and despair.

“Dear God, this is no fit place for man or beast,” Timothy said from her shoulder. “I might cast up my accounts from the stench.”

“Steel your spine, Dashfield, and breathe through your mouth when you can,” she whispered back, for many pairs of eyes watched from windows and shadowed doorways. “Eventually, you’ll become accustomed to it, sad to say. Don’t show them that you are weak, and neither look down your nose at them. These people have no choice; this is their life and most of them are trying to make the best of it.”

“You are amazing, do you know that?” He picked his way around the worst of it on the street while people crossed in the opposite direction, shooting them curious glances as well as looks that brimmed with disgust. “The fact you come here regularly and alone… I am in awe of you.”

She couldn’t help her smile but quickly bit it back, for she didn’t want these people to think they made jest of them. “We will go just there, to that half-moon shaped curve in the street. Once the people see our offerings, they will come.”

The slight winter’s breeze ruffled her skirting and sent a chill up her spine, but she ignored it. Once her task here was complete, she would return to a warm, dry house while these people would need to seek protection from the elements—and no coal for fires—the best they could. At least here on the turn, it wasn’t quite so full of the horrid trappings of human squalor.

As she’d said, no sooner had she shown the baskets to any who might be watching, lifting them before her so the residents would see she meant them no harm, children crept forth as well as harried mothers and downtrodden grandmothers. With a glance to her husband to make sure he wouldn’t lose his nerve, she began handing out their bounty. Some of the children knew her by name and were glad to receive her. Even though a few of the adults she recognized by sight, they were more reticent to speak or give away any information about themselves.

Eventually, Timothy relaxed enough to do the same, and when a ring of people formed around them, faint panic flashed in his eyes, but he said nothing. As she spoke quietly to the children and asked after the health of the mothers, he and one of the boys had apparently found common ground—magician tricks.

When the baskets were emptied, he went down on one knee so that he was at eye level with the child. “I don’t mean to brag, but I’m no slouch when it comes to sleight of hand myself.”

“Show me,” said the boy who couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old. His clothes were streaked with soot, as well as his face. Perhaps he was a chimney sweep boy, but his blue eyes were bright with curiosity. “Not like any nob I know.”

“Thank goodness for that, because I know many crusty, crotchety nobs.”

She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing as she gave a jar of salve to a woman with pain etched through her expression. In low tones, Ashlynn explained what to do with the ointment, but she kept half her attention on her husband.

When he withdrew a coin from a pocket of his greatcoat—and then stopped a would-be pickpocket from doing the same—he held it between his thumb and forefinger so the boy could see it. “Keep an eye on the coin at all times, yes?” Then, as everyone watched apparently enthralled, Timothy had the coin dancing between his gloved fingers as if he were truly possessed of magic. With a flick of his wrist, the coin vanished. He held up both hands to show the coin had truly evaporated into thin air, and when the boy gasped and some of the girls squealed in surprise, he grinned, clapped his hands, and suddenly the coin lay on his palm. “Was that magical enough for you?”

The boy nodded. Shock reflected in his eyes. “Do it again.”

“Certainly.” With all the theatrics of an actor on Drury Lane, Timothy went through the bit again, only this time, he mysteriously “found” the coin behind the boy’s ear. Compassion and sadness shadowed his own gaze. “Now, I’m going to need you to hang onto this coin for me,” he said as his voice caught. “You may use it to buy food for your family only. If you use it for anything else or if you give it to anyone else, it won’t be magical any longer. Understand?”

With a quick nod, the boy snatched the coin from Timothy’s palm as a piece of Ashlynn’s heart flew into her husband’s keeping. “Thanks, mate.”

“You are quite welcome.” As he stood, the baronet fished several more pence from his pocket, and as before, with the panache of an illusionist on stage, he handed out the coins to whichever child struck his fancy until all the coins had indeed vanished. “Now, I’ll be back on Christmas Day afternoon with plenty more coin tricks, so behave and keep out to mischief.”

Ashlynn gawked at him. He voluntarily wished to return, and on the holiday no less?

For a bit, they stood and chatted to a few of the people who lingered, but most of the folks had returned inside the buildings, for bread was a prized commodity and the coins would do a world of good for those special households who’d gotten one.

Eventually, she gathered her baskets while her husband did the same, and they went back the way they’d come through the gloom caused by the buildings. “Did you truly mean what you said to the children? You can’t win their trust by lying. If you make a commitment to them, you must follow through.”

“I meant every word.” A muscle in his cheek ticked, but he said nothing further.

“Where did you learn those tricks?”

He shrugged. “As a young man at Eton, I was quite the miscreant. Such things served me well through university.”

When the carriage rolled along the curb where they stood waiting, relief shuddered down her spine. It was one thing to bring needed supplies into a rough area, but quite another if one found themselves stranded there with no plan of exit.

Seconds after she’d settled on the bench, Timothy collapsed beside her. Once the carriage lurched into motion and she’d stowed the baskets on the floor, she turned to speak with him again, but he sat hunched over with tears rolling down his cheeks. Alarm stabbed through her chest. Had he further harmed his back?

“Timothy? Are you well?”

“Yes.” The sound of a half-stifled sob filled the carriage interior, and then suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her and burrowed his face into the crook of her shoulder. “I had no idea of the poverty just beyond Mayfair, had no inkling of how people are living away from the glitter of ballrooms and bustle of shops.”

Ah, it was his first go ‘round with the other side of life, and he was having a reaction to it. Such things happened to everyone. As best she could, Ashlynn held him, comforted him, murmured soothing words to help him calm. “Nothing is ever as it seems, and the flashy people in control of the government tend to gloss over how terrible things truly are. Just because we don’t often see that side of life doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“My heart broke for those children. To know that perhaps half of them won’t grow to see adulthood… To know there is nothing for them in the future if they do…” Another sob was stifled, and tears continued to run down his cheeks.

Poor thing. But her heart grew and squeezed to know he’d been affected. “Showing your compassion for the poor and bringing forth your willingness to help is better for your soul than being a heartless money collector.”

He snorted but didn’t look at her. “It is my livelihood, Ashlynn.”

“Yes, this is true, but you can practice a bit more compassion as you do it.” As she spoke, she stroked a hand up and down his spine. “People are doing the best they can. They don’t need excessive taxes, or class divides to hinder that or show that they are less than.”

“I want to help.”

“Then do so. Meet them where they are. Use your voice and votes in the House of Commons.”

That brought his head up. “I am not a member.”

Shock went through her. “Why not?”

He shrugged and then wiped at the moisture on his cheeks. “It didn’t really occur to me to do such, but now I will.”

“You need to campaign, perhaps befriend a peer of rank who will sponsor you. That will make it easier to get in, I’ll wager.” Pride for him welled in her chest. “You will do great things, I think, if you get in.”

“I want to change things for all people in England. No one deserves to live like those children.” He pulled her close to his side and kept his arms wrapped around her. Then he tapped on the roof. “To the tea house nearby in Covent Gardens.” When she looked a question at him, he sighed. “I’m famished, and I know you are too.”

“Yes.” As she settled back against his chest and rested her arms over his, she smiled. For the first time since she’d married him, it felt as if they were united, bonded into the same cause—the fight to end poverty or at least it more bearable.

“Ashlynn?” The warmth of his breath skated over her cheek.

“Hmm?”

“When I called you Linnie earlier today because with the wind knocked out of me, I couldn’t speak your name, you seemed shocked. Why was that?”

Oh, dear. A sigh escaped her, and a wash of maudlin memories assailed her. “It was what my father used to call me. I hadn’t heard the word spoken aloud since he died.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, then.”

“Don’t be.” It was a pinnacle moment in their relationship. “I rather liked it.”

“Good.” He grinned against the shell of her ear. “Unless I miss my guess, I’m changing into a better man because of you… Linnie.”

Another piece of her heart flew into his keeping, and though it might have been a natural progression, she couldn’t help but worry about what such a life might entail… and if she was good enough for any of it.