Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [97]
‘Will she mind me staying here?’ Beth asked, pulling the dressing gown under the covers with her so she could put it on without revealing any flesh.
‘No, not at all. I explained what had happened to you,’ he said. ‘You can meet her tomorrow.’
Later that night Beth lay in the bed feeling strangely disappointed. Theo had danced attendance on her. He’d brought her a lovely big meal, run her a hot bath and given her a couple of glasses of whisky mixed with honey and lemon which he claimed would ensure she didn’t come down with a bad cold. But he hadn’t even kissed her.
She could smell his hair oil on the pillows, she could almost feel the imprint of his body in the mattress, but he was sleeping elsewhere in the house and he hadn’t made so much as a tiny hint he’d like to share his bed with her.
Would she have let him if he had?
Beth didn’t know the answer to that. Her head insisted she wouldn’t have allowed it. But if that was so, why did she feel let down?
Then there was the question of where he’d been all these weeks. He’d made no explanation or apology about that. It seemed likely that he had another woman tucked away, but if that was the case, why would he say he’d take Beth to Philadelphia?
He must love her. Why else would he have planned and executed her rescue? He’d told her about how he discovered that Fingers owned property in both Blind Man’s Close and Bottle Alley and that he stormed into every room of every house until he found the little girl who said she’d heard banging and shouting. Sam, Jack and Jack’s friends were there too of course, but it was clear Theo was their leader.
During the evening she’d wandered around his room and taken note of many things: photographs of his family in silver frames, good-quality clothes and shoes, gold cufflinks, silver-backed hairbrushes and at least a dozen silk ties. The furnishings in the room were worn and old, but there was no mistaking that this had once been a wealthy person’s residence; she wondered why he’d led her to believe that he lived much like her and Sam.
That could be because he might not know that poor people like her didn’t have bathrooms or a water closet just down the hall. Maybe he actually believed he was roughing it because he had to live and sleep in one room?
But if this was roughing it, with soft sheets on the bed, a feather eiderdown and a roaring fire, then she would gladly rough it with him. This house was as quiet as a church — no babies crying, no raised voices or drunken footsteps on the stairs; the only sound she’d heard all evening was the occasional rumbling of cab wheels in the street below.
She wanted to believe that Theo had kept his distance tonight because he both loved and respected her, for that was how gentlemen behaved in romantic novels. But a small voice in her head warned her against thinking that way; he had never said he loved her, and as Ira had pointed out more than once, gamblers were a law unto themselves.
Beth woke the following morning to a knock on the door. Before she could even gather herself, the door opened and a woman came in, carrying breakfast on a large tray.
‘I’m Miss Doughty, Miss Marchment’s housekeeper,’ she said, her face stern and cold. ‘Mr Cadogan asked me to bring this up and tell you that he will see you this evening.’
‘But it’s Christmas Day,’ Beth exclaimed. She was very pleased by the breakfast of bacon, eggs, pancakes and coffee, but she couldn’t believe Theo intended to leave her alone all day.
She also sensed the housekeeper’s disapproval. The woman was thin, with sharp features and iron-grey hair, and she certainly didn’t look like someone Beth could win round.
‘Mr Cadogan would have made his plans for today some weeks ago,’ Miss Doughty retorted. ‘Gentlemen do not cancel such arrangements lightly and he has asked me to make sure you rest and do not go out.’
‘I’m sorry