Lord Day and Lady Night

09. Plans for the Night

Several minutes later, Lord Patrick still sat in the living room, dripping with tea and trying to figure out what had just happened. His heart had filled with sympathy for the poor woman, he had generously offered his help, and then...

Well, then things hadn't gone exactly as planned.

Angeline stuck her head through the door again. "Another towel, brother?"

"Yes, thank you."

Absent-mindedly, Lord Patrick took the proffered towel and starting dabbing at his shirt without noticing whether he was actually hitting the wet spots.

"What the...why the blazes did she react like that?" he demanded.

"Very annoying if people aren't suitably grateful, isn't it?" Angeline enquired sweetly. Taking the towel and leaving the room, softly closing the door behind her. His Lordship stared after her—then slammed his fist down on the coffee table.

"Damnation! Why shouldn't she be grateful? I offered her a chance to change her life! She has nothing! Absolutely nothing!"

Wrong.

He suddenly remembered the look in the young woman's eyes. She looked at him like an ancient Greek Amazon might have looked at a cockroach she was about to squash. He remembered...

"Flo! We're leaving!"

It took about zero dot seven four seconds for the little girl to race down the stairs and take up her position beside the young woman. Clutching Amy's hand, the little one glared at Lord Patrick as if he were the villain in this scenario. Which, considering the whole kidnapping thing, from her perspective, he probably was. Damnation!

"Wait a minute!" Lord Patrick raised his hand. "You can't mean...you're refusing my help? You can't just—"

"Ye bet I can!" Amy, already turned away, cast him a glance over her shoulder. "I've survived on me own for over fifteen years! What makes ye think I suddenly need yer charity? I don't take 'andouts from nobody! Least of all from arrogant, girl-snatching arseholes! Mark me words—one day, ye'll pay for dis!"

And with that, she had grabbed the girl, tossed her raven-black hair over her shoulder and marched out of the room. Lord Patrick had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

He thought she had nothing?

Wrong. So wrong.

She had her pride. A boatload of pride. Enough of it to keep her straight and fighting, no matter what might happen.

A truly beautiful sight.

Which was a good thing, because the next thing Lord Patrick got to see was his own door slamming in his face. Not quite so beautiful.

"Patrick? Patrick! Hey, brother!"

"W-what?" Patrick blinked, resurfacing from his memories. "What's the matter?"

Angeline, who apparently had somehow appeared in the room again without him noticing, raised an eyebrow. "You tell me. I've been waving this," she held up another pot of tea and a towel, "under your nose for the last few minutes, but haven't gotten a reaction yet. So, do you want some or not?"

"Err...yes. Yes, thank you."

Lord Patrick filled himself a cup of tea and took a small sip.

"So what next?" Angeline demanded. "Seems like you've lost your only witness. What are you going to do?"

Eyes narrowing, Patrick scrutinized her. "You couldn't have been listening. I checked the door."

Angeline gave him a big, warm, sisterly smile. "There's a spot upstairs where you can take a loose brick out of the wall. It's amazing how well sound travels through a chimney shaft."