Page 46 of Love with a Notorious Rake

Aidan placed the cup and saucer on the table. “Is it not for the young lady to decide? Are you her guardian? Unless you have other justifications for protecting her.”

Paris shrugged. “Perhaps I do. I esteem Cristyn greatly. We would make a formidable couple, considering our mutual interest in medicine and assisting those less fortunate.” Paris gave her a heated look that, frankly, shocked her. Why was he spouting this nonsense?

Aidan stood, his expression dark. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Trubshaw. If you wish to examine the children, Doctor, make an appointment with Mr. McRae. For I care not. Good evening, Miss Bevan.” He bowed and left the room.

Cristyn could only stare at Aidan’s broad back and shoulders as he departed. What had happened?

“Doctor, I must say, I have never seen you act so rudely before,” Mrs. Trubshaw huffed. “Excuse me.”

When she left, Paris blew out a breath. “Are you angry, Cristyn?”

“Yes, I am, rather. I said I would handle this. Now Aidan believes you have designs on me. Mrs. Trubshaw as well.”

“I apologize for being facetious. I had no right to interfere. I purposely baited him to ascertain his character and his motives, toward you and the mill. It appears he is the same manner of man as McRae. Surely you see this.”

Heavens, could it be true? Aidan had said it plainly: He cared not for the children. But there had to be an explanation.

Paris met her gaze. “I do care for you, my dear. I don’t want to see you hurt. That is a man with a cold, dark soul—I would bet my life on it.” Paris stared at the door. “As far as your landlady, I must make my apologies. Do you accept mine?”

Cristyn frowned. “Only if you do not interfere again. I am more than capable of making up my own mind. If only everyone would stop interfering in my life.” Her voice had a hard edge to it, for she was trying to keep her fury and frustration under control.

“I am suitably admonished, and deservedly so. But do not dismiss Mr. Black’s words and actions here tonight.” Paris stood, briefly touched her shoulder, then left to seek out Mrs. Trubshaw.

Left alone in the parlor, a tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly dashed it away. Surely Aidan wasn’t as cold and dark as he had been moments ago. How could he not care about what was going on at the mill? The state of the children, the grinding poverty all around them?

Yes, perhaps she had colossally misjudged a man, who, because of his handsome face and stunning build, had blinded her to his true nature. Was she that shallow? It was a sobering thought. Cristyn was deeply disappointed and hurt. Perhaps she should rethink her feelings about Aidan—or perhaps she needed more proof. She was not one for brooding or jumping to conclusions. One way or another, she would get to the truth of it, even if she had to confront him head on.

* * * *

By the following day, Aidan had managed to tamp down the potent mix of anger and jealousy, but it simmered under the surface nonetheless. What in the hell had the doctor been trying to prove? Obviously, Middlemiss wanted to damage him in Cristyn’s eyes because he had designs on her himself. Now that he had met the man and seen him up close, it was obvious he was years older; the many lines fanning out from his eyes and the threads of gray at his temples placed him at mid-forties, at least. Far too old. But when had that stopped most men from pursuing younger women? It was predatory, and churned Aidan’s insides.

Enough of this. He had to concentrate on the task at hand: playing the overbearing overseer. Once he left the raised platform, he strode along the rows of spinning machines, glaring at everyone who dared to meet his eyes.

Aidan focused on a child coughing furiously. A woman was holding her close and rubbing her back. “You there!” he thundered. “The child is sick. Too sick to work. It is yours?” he asked the woman, who held the little girl closer, as if to protect her.

“Aye, sir.”

“Send her home. Immediately. I’ll not have the other workers catch her disease.”

“We can’t afford to give up her place, we need—”

“Not my concern. Escort her home, and if you are not back here in fifteen minutes, I’ll replace you.”

The woman took the child’s hand and scurried away. Those nearby were watching him, dislike plain on their faces. Good. “Get back to work!” he roared. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mr. Meeker taking notes. He might as well continue to play the role of the hated overseer.

With hands clasped behind his back, he continued on his journey up and down the narrow aisles, barking orders, admonishing those not working fast enough. He came upon Tessie, who was trembling and would not look his way. Aidan grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the machine. He pointed to a man repairing the leather band on the machine next to it. “You! Take her place.”

Tessie nearly tripped, but he pulled her along regardless. The fright on her face made his insides clench, but this had to be done. There was no way in hell he could stay the full two months and act this way. It would destroy him utterly. Damage his already shriveled soul beyond all repair and redemption.

Tessie was crying openly now. He pushed her into the small storage room and slammed the door, but not before he glanced at the spinning room floor. Most workers had kept their heads down, but some glared at him with looks of hatred.

“Please, sir, don’t hit me. I’ll do anything.” She dropped to her knees. “I’ll suck you here, now…”

He gently grasped her arms and brought her to her feet. “Why would I hit you?” he asked, his voice hushed. “Did Mr. Hanson or Master ever strike you? Tell me the truth.”

“Y-y-yes.”

A fresh roll of indignation moved through him at the thought of these loathsome men bullying and assaulting this young woman. Oh, they would pay. “My offer stands: three shillings for information. It must remain between us. Now, when Mr. Hanson brought women into this room, it was for sexual favors for extra coin, correct?”