good at stirring her up in improper ways.
He merely touched her lower back firmly and led her in a gallant fashion toward the Hobbses’ sitting room, but she couldn’t help recalling the purposeful yet careful way he’d held her on the floor at Hodgepodge, as if she were precious.
That memory softened her. It did more than that, actually—it bewildered her. Almost brought tears to her eyes.
Hector had never treated her so.
She’d never felt … womanly in his presence. Like a goddess adored. Yes, that’s how Captain Arrow had treated her, like a goddess.
In the sitting room, she made the decision to allow him to help her with the Hobbses, after all.
Mrs. Hobbs rose from a chair, where she was knitting. “Welcome,” she said with a broad smile.
“Sit down, Lavinia.” Mr. Hobbs used a firm tone from his plush red armchair, where he was reading a newspaper.
Mrs. Hobbs did sit down, and she looked none too happy about it.
Her husband lowered his newspaper an inch. “I told Lavinia we don’t have time for your nonsense, but she insisted we should see you. So say what you have to say and get out.”
He put the paper back up in front of his face.
“Mr. Hobbs,” Jilly said, “could you please lower the paper?”
He merely shook it.
“Mind if I take a seat, Hobbs?” Captain Arrow asked.
Mr. Hobbs lowered the paper and scowled at him. “If you insist.”
The captain leaned back in a lovely Chippendale chair and pulled out a pair of cheroots. “Care for one?” He held it out to Mr. Hobbs. “They’re the finest I’ve ever found in the Indies.”
Without waiting for an answer, the captain lit the cheroots from a nearby taper—Jilly was impressed by his sangfroid—and the men both began to puff away. Mr. Hobbs looked like a grumpy dragon, Jilly thought, scowling and puffing, scowling and puffing.
Captain Arrow took what appeared to be a few blissful puffs and let out a long sigh. He smiled and leaned over to Mrs. Hobbs and asked her about her knitting.
Good. Now Jilly could concentrate on Mr. Hobbs.
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Hobbs, you’re a hardworking man.”
“Yes, I am,” he said, and rattled his paper.
She racked her brain. “You—you deserve to come home and have your home be your castle.”
“Indeed, I do.” He coughed, and a curl of smoke floated above the page.
Jilly took a chair, pulled it up next to him, and folded her hands in her lap. “I know you can’t see me through your paper,” she said, “but that’s all right. There’s so much fog on this street—we often can’t see each other. Sometimes it tends to make one feel a bit … alone.”
Silence from behind the paper.
Jilly squeezed her fingers together harder. “I just want you to know, Mr. Hobbs, that your family isn’t alone. It might seem like it, but it doesn’t have to be that way. And if you feel like your castle is under siege, there are actually people on the street who want to help you fight for it.”
She waited, and he lowered his paper just enough that she could see one eye. “No one can help me,” he mumbled around the cheroot.
Oh, dear. He sounded angry and despairing, all at once.
“But I think we can,” said Jilly. “We can earn enough money from the street fair to—”
Mr. Hobbs dropped the paper in his lap and pulled the cheroot out of his mouth. “The bloody lease is just the beginning,” he hissed. “My financial woes extend far beyond the requirements of that lease.”
Mrs. Hobbs turned at the sound of his voice. “Mason?”
He looked at her. “These people can’t help us, Lavinia.”
He put the cheroot back in his mouth and the paper back up. Mrs. Hobbs’s face fell. Jilly looked at Stephen.
She gave him a brief shake of her head, but a part of her simply felt happy to have someone to rely on.
She inhaled a breath and went back to Mr. Hobbs. “I can’t make any promises beyond the lease, Mr. Hobbs,” she said in a firm, no-nonsense tone. “But one step at a time.
“The rest,” he said contemptuously from behind his newspaper.
“Yes, the rest,” she asserted. “Meanwhile, your wife and children can help with the fair. Anticipate success there, Mr. Hobbs. And with that momentum, you can go forward. Giving up isn’t an option. In fact, we’d like you to help with the fair, too.”
He lowered the paper. “No.” His tone was still flat.
“Very well.” Jilly stood. “But we do need Mrs. Hobbs and the children.”
“Mason?” Mrs. Hobbs’s voice was thin.
Mr. Hobbs looked at the frayed Aubusson rug then back at his wife. “You can help with the fair,” he said. “But—”
“But what, dear?” Mrs. Hobbs asked him.
“Nothing.” He stood and sighed. “Miss Jones, you’re an interfering young lady.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
She heard Captain Arrow behind her give a small cough that sounded rather like a laugh. “You won’t regret this, Hobbs,” he said.
Mr. Hobbs’s brows drew across his nose. “We’ll see about that.” He flung his hand toward the door, the cheroot still smoking between his fingertips. “Now out with you both.”
“Thank you for coming,” said Mrs. Hobbs with a happy smile.
“Come over tomorrow with the children,” Jilly said, “and we’ll talk about what you can do.”
“I look forward to it,” said Mrs. Hobbs.
Jilly hugged Mrs. Hobbs, then took Captain Arrow’s arm. Together they strode out the door, past the butler, who winked at the captain, and out onto the street.
She looked at Captain Arrow, and he, at her.
At the same time, they laughed.
“Well done,” he said.
“Thank you for sharing your whisky and cigars.”
“My pleasure.”
The biggest thing she’d noticed at the Hobbses’ was that she and the captain did well together. Not that she would tell him that. He’d be sure to remind her they meshed perfectly in another way, too—a way she was sure she should forget but already knew she wouldn’t.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“So what’s next, now that we’ve got the Hobbses on board?” Stephen asked on the street. Not that he cared overly much. All he wanted was to be next to Miss Jilly Jones.
“We’re off to see Susan and Otis,” she said. “I’m longing to see how their handkerchiefs are coming along, but don’t you have those house repairs to make?”
He shrugged. “The needs of the fair take precedence.” As did escorting an enchanting bookseller about Dreare Street.
“Are you sure?” She looked a little uncertain.
“Trying to rid yourself of me?”
“No, but I plan on stopping at Nathaniel’s before I go to Susan’s.”
“Oh?”
