Page 67 of Love with a Notorious Rake

They hurriedly dressed; Aidan even assisted her in pinning her hair in place. With a quick inspection of the hall, they quietly descended the back stairs and exited through the rear door. Once on the street, Aidan offered his arm and they strolled along the cobbles toward Church Street. Once they neared the corner, Cristyn halted. “We should part here.”

“God, I want to kiss you senseless. When can we meet again?”

“Shall we try for the clinic? Tomorrow night at seven?”

They were not going to his room. Though disappointed, he hid it. “Yes. Seven o’clock. I will arrive once I extricate myself from the mill.” He bowed slightly. “Good night, my angel,” he murmured.

“Good night, Mr. Black.” In a quieter voice, she whispered, “My dearest.”

The endearment warmed his heart, and like a smitten, love-struck idiot, he stood and watched until she disappeared into the widow’s residence. Making his way toward the inn, Aidan decided he would head to the mill for one last pass at Rokesmith. The sun had all but set, and the darkness would hide their meeting.

Once he entered the inn, he strode into the tavern room. The innkeeper stood behind the bar, wiping glasses. “Mr. Atwood, what have you left in foodstuffs?”

“Four pork pies, some bacon. Two cottage loaves, rice pudding.”

Aidan pulled out a couple of pound notes. “I will take it all. If you can spare any paper napkins, and cutlery, along with an old bowl and a few spoons you no longer need. Do you have any milk?”

Mr. Atwood’s eyes widened at the money on the counter. “Aye, enough to fill a large jar.”

Aidan slapped another pound note on the counter. “If you have any tin cups and plates you can spare, toss them into a box as well. I need it all right away.”

“Aye, sir!” The innkeeper snatched up the bills and hurried off. Less than five minutes later, he returned with a large basket.

Aidan took it. “Good man. When I return in forty minutes, I would like a meal delivered to my room. I am sure you keep prime cuts of beef for your best customers—”

“Of which you are, Mr. Black.”

“Thank you. A cut of beef and whatever vegetables you can muster.”

“I will see it done, sir. Never fear.”

Aidan glanced about the empty tavern room. “What I purchased here is no one’s business. Understand?”

Mr. Atwood touched his forelock. “You can count on my discretion, sir.”

Satisfied, Aidan carried the heavy basket outside, then walked briskly toward the mill. The rain had finally dissipated the night before, and it left warm weather in its wake. The moon cast enough illumination to light his way. When he arrived at the warehouse, many of the children were still outside.

When Lottie spotted him, her sweet face lit up and she ran toward him. “Mr. Black!”

She encircled his waist and hugged him close. No doubt the child was happy to see him because of the food.

Still gripping his trousers, Lottie gazed up at him, admiration in her eyes. “Are you a fairy-tale prince?” she asked.

Aidan wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, and give the little girl a dismissive comment. But looking down into those innocent, wide orbs, he couldn’t be cruel to her. “No, child. Not at all,” he replied in a soft voice. “I will never be, I’m afraid. Go and fetch Rokesmith. There’s a good girl.”

She smiled, gave him another hug, then scampered away, leaving him wondering how the young girl could still retain any semblance of childhood wonder and playfulness in this dismal place.

Rokesmith emerged from the cellar. Aidan thrust the basket at him. “See the children are fed. The dishes and cutlery are to stay with you. Keep them hidden. I’ll need the basket back. We need to talk. Alone. Dismiss everyone else.” His words were clipped, because he was at the end of his tether in dealing with this stubborn youth.

Rokesmith motioned to an older girl and boy and whispered instructions to them. They disappeared into the cellar with the food, along with the rest of the children.

Rokesmith closed the cellar doors, then turned to face him. “What brings you here?”

“My time here is coming to end sooner than I thought. You have two days to tell me everything you know about the pregnant women and the missing children. In return, if the information is useful in my endeavors, I will keep my promise of suitable placements for the children and assisting you in finding justice for your situation.”

Rokesmith curled his lip. “Sorry, the trust isn’t there, Black—if that is your name. How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

Aidan pushed Rokesmith against the warehouse wall. “You had better locate the trust, and swiftly, or I will be washing my hands of this place and leaving you and everyone at the mill to the fates. I promise you, the future will be a bleak one. Those children will be scattered to the four winds, and there will be no justice—not for you or anyone here.”