He fixed a smile on his face. “I’m here,” he said brightly. “What are you doing up so late?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Shall I make you a cup of warm milk?”
She made a moue. “Very well,” she said with a hint of petulance.
Gareth smiled again and went to get the milk. She would make excuses for him to stay once he’d brought it but he would yawn and pretend he was very tired. How long could this charade go on? The woman wanted more from him than he was prepared to give and it was getting very awkward. He knew there would come a point when she would demand he climb into her bed and he would either have to say no or . . .
Gareth shuddered. There was no “or.” He could not bring himself to play gigolo to that old woman and there was an end to it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * *
When Averil arrived at the Home for Distressed Women, with Beth in tow—her friend and companion had insisted—the earl of Southbrook was already there. Gareth was busy showing him the locking devices on the doors, and explaining how once the women were locked in there was no way out until the next morning.
The earl looked up when she joined them and bowed politely, but with an amused twist of his mouth when he saw Averil had her companion with her. His gaze slid past them both, to the roofs in the next laneway, and Averil realized with a tingle of shock that they were very close to The Tin Soldier. She’d never had need to walk in that direction so it came as a surprise to her.
“Lord Southbrook, may I introduce my companion, Miss Harmon.”
Beth gave a little curtsey. “Your lordship.”
He nodded. “Miss Harmon.” And looked at her as if he’d expected someone far more fearsome.
He was dressed impeccably again, this time in a tweed jacket and gray trousers, with a dark waistcoat over his white shirt, topped by a gray cravat. His brooding dark eyes fixed on Averil for a moment before moving back to Gareth, who was still talking at length about their security issues.
She knew Gareth could be tedious sometimes but he meant well. Despite his faults she was very fond of her cousin.
“Perhaps we should see inside,” Southbrook said at last, drawling in a manner that made Averil want to box his ears.
Gareth opened the door, his mouth set in a line that was a little tight, but he was soon away again, as if Lord Southbrook needed to know the smallest detail. Normally his pride in the building made Averil smile, but today she didn’t feel like smiling. The earl’s presence was making her uncomfortable, just as it had last night.
“As you can see, Lord Southbrook, we have set up the home close to the poorest and most degraded parts of the East End. We have placed ourselves in plain sight, so that those now safe within our walls can be grateful for their rescue and those still in a distressed state can see there is hope of redemption.”
“Surely that increases the temptation for those safe within your walls, as you put it?” Lord Southbrook said. “Setting up a soup kitchen or a doss house in the area where the women live, I can understand that. They are unable to travel and you wish to provide a service, not an alternate way of life. But in this case, Doctor Simmons, don’t you want to take your women as far away as possible from the surroundings that led them into their degradation?”
Averil looked at him with pleased surprise. He’d stated—and far more succinctly than she could—exactly what had been her own objection when Gareth first mooted his project. He hadn’t listened to her, going ahead with his own vision as if he could not possibly be wrong. And now, despite all their security measures, so many of the girls ran away, and once they were gone into the labyrinths of the East End it was almost impossible to find them again, even with Jackson’s help. There had been a sad incident only a few months ago, when one of their girls was found dead just around the corner from the Home. Although the cause of her death was clear—her neck had been broken—her reason for running away wasn’t. But it had certainly unsettled the other inmates.
Averil waited with interest to see what her cousin would say to the earl, but Gareth dismissed the concern just as he always did. “The position of the Home is immaterial.” He strode ahead, leading them toward the large common room, where the women were waiting, lined up before the windows. “If they are shown the error of their ways, and wish to change, then I firmly believe they will not stray. There is temptation everywhere, Lord Southbrook.”
The door was open and he led them through. The women were lined up, just as Averil expected, Molly a little to the front. Molly was one of their older women and certainly their loudest. She’d heard the tail end of Gareth’s speech and couldn’t resist making fun of it.
“Talk of temptation, lovey!” she declared, hands planted on her broad hips, ogling the earl.
There were muffled snorts and giggles from the others, but they fell silent when Gareth glared at them.
“You will apologize to his lordship for your rudeness,” he said sternly. “We do not tolerate rowdy behavior here.”
Molly muttered an apology, looking anything but apologetic. Her habits were ingrained, and Averil could not help but wonder if she really was as eager to be reformed as she claimed. Her thoughts might be uncharitable, but Averil was inclined to think that three good meals a day, new clothing, and a clean bed at night, had more to do with Molly’s being here than any hope of rehabilitation. There had been a few like her, women who said all the right things but . . . well, Averil did not think they genuinely wanted to be reformed. Then there were others she’d believed truly wanted aid and they had run away. Despite Gareth’s objections, Averil could not help but believe that the Home’s proximity to their old haunts made any improvement in the women’s behavior more difficult.
“Molly didn’t mean it, your lordship,” Violet spoke up, with a little bob of a curtsey. “She’s just a little bit overexcited.”
“Thank you, Violet,” Gareth said, “but Molly can speak for herself.”
Violet blushed at being reproved and there was a spark of rebellion in her blue eyes that made Averil bite back a smile. She was a pretty girl, with pale white-blond hair to go with her very blue eyes. Violet had been living with relatives but they were aware of her talents for teaching and, wanting something better for her, had informed Jackson. When Jackson brought her to Gareth, he’d been impressed with her resolution and optimism despite the difficulties she faced, and had employed her to help teach the women manners and proper behavior. If they wanted to find work in service or in shops, they would need to understand correct conduct, and so far Violet had made some
good progress. Perhaps it was because she was an East End girl herself, and they did not see her as an outsider, as they surely must do with Gareth and herself.