Tricia managed to free one arm from the baby and she wrapped it around the little girl, kissing the top of her head. “I’ve missed you too.”
“Is it true that your papa is sick? Is that why you haven’t come?”
Ryker pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He didn’t want to know any more about this woman. Not that her father was ill, not that she spent her time helping needy children and not that she looked absolutely beautiful holding babies and little girls.
“Yes, I’m afraid it is.” Tricia answered in a soothing voice.
“I’m very sorry,” the little girl answered.
“Lauren get back to bed this instant,” Mrs. Stallworth called as she returned with a device Ryker had never seen before. Made of porcelain, it was boat-shaped with a small hole at one end and a much larger one in the middle.
Tricia kissed the little girl again. “I’ll come visit soon. Off to bed.” Then she took the device, and with complete ease, used it to feed the baby.
“There is a free cradle upstairs in the infants’ room. I’ll find another wet nurse tomorrow.” Mrs. Stallworth turned to leave again. “Write to me in the morning so I know you’ve made it home safe.”
Tricia nodded. “Thank you for everything.”
Mrs. Stallworth didn’t answer but she threw a healthy glare at Ryker before she exited the room.
&nb
sp; “I don’t think she believes you.”
Tricia shrugged. “Whatever happens will happen.”
“You would allow yourself to be ruined?” He couldn’t hold his opinion in any longer. It had been bubbling just below the surface. “For a cousin who has wasted his life and a foundling you’ve no connection to?”
Her eyes met and held his. He saw no uncertainty in them. “My sister has found a way to marry and still help those in need. She started this orphanage. I doubt I will be so lucky. Most men would not allow their wives to work in this capacity. If I am ruined then my fate will be decided. I will dedicate my life to helping those in need rather than starting a family of my own.”
Bloody hell, she was the worst kind of fool. The kind with honest intent but no regard for self-preservation or any sense at all.
She finished feeding the child and stood without another word. She exited the room and he could only assume she would put the baby to bed. Several minutes later, she returned and waved him to follow.
Leaving the way they had come, she rattled another address to the driver and he silently helped her into the carriage. It was exceedingly late now and he could see the droop in her shoulders as she collapsed onto one of the seats.
He sat across from her just as before. Clearing his throat, he knew he needed to discuss his identity with her. They’d soon arrive at the address she had given. “Trish, I’ve a request of you. It is important you tell no one about who I am.”
She yawned and leaned her head back again. “I haven’t the faintest idea who you are. I am in far more danger of discovery than you.”
She had a point, as they’d already discussed.
The carriage began rattling down the street, and once again Ryker found himself watching her across from him.
For her part, her eyes remained closed and her breathing soon became deep and even. He was sure she’d fallen asleep. Somehow she looked even lovelier like this, with her soft features bathed in moonlight as she sighed in her sleep.
All too soon, the carriage once again rolled to a stop, and he took note of the address. He wasn’t sure why, he’d assured her and himself that he never wanted to be bothered with her again. The sun was just rising and he could now see that her hair was in fact a lovely shade of reddish blonde that looked touchably soft.
“We’re here,” he spoke quietly, so as not to startle her too much. Ridiculous really, to protect her so. She’d been out all night, and at the docklands, no less.
She jerked awake and sleepy green eyes blinked at him. “Thank you,” she mumbled as she made to stand and swayed on her feet.
He clamped his hand on her elbow and helped her out of the carriage. She steadied herself and then scurried down the street, disappearing in an alley several houses away.
“Drive by the alley,” he ordered Seymour as he climbed back in the carriage, parting the curtains as he did so. He was only a few blocks from his own townhouse. He told himself he wished to know exactly what street to avoid so that he never ran into this troublesome little minx again.
Somehow, he knew, he would.
Chapter Three