repeating the question as gently as he could. “Does she owe you wages?”
She shook her head slowly, but the tears began to flow silently. “I had hoped yesterday … I worked so hard … but no. …”
“You’re certain?”
The tears turn into a torrent. “I … had to buy … the red velvet. … Mrs. Carlisle … wouldn’t … There wasn’t time … to finish. … She deducted it … but I …” It was mostly incomprehensible in between the hiccups and sobs, but he was able to gather that the poor thing was falsely indebted to her employer. This time when he held out his handkerchief, she took it without hesitation. “I’ve left the red velvet inside. … Now I’ve nothing … to show for my … labors.”
“Come, Miss Beckett. You must get out of the cold.” He escorted her out to the street and raised his hand to bring a hackney carriage to the curb. He addressed the driver and held up a sovereign to make sure he had the man’s attention.“The lady will wait inside your carriage while I attend to some business within. Please see that she is safe in your keeping until I come back, yes?”
“Aye, captain! You can count on John!” The coin disappeared into his coat pocket and he winked to seal the contract. “I’m your man!”
Josiah offered her a hand up, but she hesitated, eyeing him with some suspicion.
“I cannot … afford to pay you back for a carriage, Mr. Hastings,” she said.
He shook his head. “I don’t need repayment. But I do need you to wait here while I see to this. A few minutes, Miss Beckett, and I’ll return. Promise me that you’ll wait here inside the carriage where it’s warm.”
She nodded slowly and accepted his help up into the carriage. “I’ll wait, if only to continue a debate on the impossibility of accepting your charity, Mr. Hastings.”
“I look forward to it.” He touched his hat and shut the carriage door to make his way back up the walk and up into Madame Claremont’s lovely establishment.
His hesitation at the door had nothing to do with his conviction about Miss Beckett’s cause, but everything to do with an attempt to summon the bravado of days gone by. Rowan was right. He’d once been as cavalier and worldly as any man walking, mocking Galen’s dark moods and accepting any dare that Ashe had tossed out. But those days were gone.
Come on, Hastings. You remember the game! We’ll play the lord and give this wicked creature a taste of humble pie.
He straightened his spine and walked in as bold as brass.
“Ah! May I help you … sir?” A portly woman in black came forward briskly, her tone changing from solicitous to suspicious in a single breath.
Damn. I really do need a new coat if even this bird is being put off.
“Madame Claremont?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve come to collect Miss Beckett’s red velvet gown and, of course, any wages you owe her in good faith.” He heard a squeak of surprise from one of the other shop girls and thought he saw a bit of movement at the back of the showroom, but he didn’t dare look away from his opponent. “Now.”
The woman snorted in disbelief. “
Miss Beckett’s
red gown?”
“I gather you deducted the cost of it from her wages, so that would make it hers.” He folded his arms, settling in for the argument. “If you cannot produce the gown, then I’ll expect her wages in full. It’s a simple matter of math, isn’t it?”
“And—who are you to Miss Beckett?”
He didn’t even blink, giving her his coldest look. “It should give you pause, madame, that Miss Beckett may not be alone in the world and may not now be without resources. I am a wealthy and eccentric man, and whatever my relation to Miss Beckett, I recommend you pray that it’s not too sentimental an attachment or I may forgo giving you this opportunity to settle your accounts amicably with the young lady and, instead, contact my solicitor and the authorities.”
“Wealthy?” The snort returned with a bit less force, but