“You mentioned that someone might be looking for you,” he pressed.
The thought of Mr. Finch was enough to cause fear to choke her once more. She laid a hand against her suddenly pounding heart, unable to think of that terrible place, let alone speak of it. Not yet. She shook her head and glanced away.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
She looked back at him, wondering how much to say. Whether it was the quiet, deep timbre of his voice or those compelling golden eyes that spoke of trustworthiness, she found herself sharing the whole story in fits and starts, beginning with her father’s death, her arrival in London, the visit to the registry office to apply for work, and the few parts she remembered after that. Unfortunately, much of it was a blur.
The man said nothing as she spoke, only nodding a few times as if to encourage her to continue, waiting patiently for her to find the words when she paused and providing a handkerchief when emotion overcame her.
“I certainly don’t wish to cause you further unease, but the authorities should be notified of all that happened to you.”
Though his gentle suggestion held only concern, her heart nearly beat out of her chest at the thought. Guilt weighed on her as her thoughts flew to Mary. The woman probably wasn’t the only one in trouble in the brothel. But the thought of confronting Mr. Finch, Mrs. Cole, or the others she suspected were involved sent fear pulsing through her and made it difficult to breathe.
A knock on the door caused her to flinch.
If Mr. Walker noticed her reaction, he didn’t comment on it.
“Enter,” he said, and the door opened to reveal another gentleman, who appeared some years older than Mr. Walker.
He remained in the doorway with a guarded expression as a middle-aged, stout woman carrying a tray bustled into the room.
“My goodness! Look at you awake at last.” The woman’s expression was filled with concern and sympathy as she looked over Beatrice. “You poor dear. You must be near starved.”
The aroma of food caused Beatrice’s stomach to growl in response, and she managed a smile. “I must say a meal sounds wonderful.”
“Miss Linfield, this is Pierre, my valet.” Mr. Walker gestured toward the door. “And Mrs. Beverly, our housekeeper.”
Pierre bowed then disappeared from sight.
“It seems as if you’ve had a terrible time of it as of late, miss.” The woman sat the tray on the bed beside Beatrice and lifted the silver cover. “Mr. Walker will set you right as rain. Mark my words. But no meaningful conversations can be held on an empty stomach.”
“How kind of you.” Coddled eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast had Beatrice’s mouth-watering.
“I included a cup of warm chocolate, but I can bring tea if you’d prefer,” Mrs. Beverly offered as she stepped back with a nod.
“This is perfect. Thank you so much.” She couldn’t think of the last time she’d had such a fine breakfast.
“Of course, dear. My sister is near your size and sent a gown for you to wear if you’d like. It might not fit you well but ’tis better than nothing and should do for now.”
“I would appreciate that. Thank you.” The kindness had Beatrice blinking back tears again.
“Oh now,” Mrs. Beverly said as she adjusted the covers over Beatrice in a motherly fashion. “No need for tears.” She glanced at her employer before looking back. “Once you and Mr. Walker are finished with your conversation, I’ll bring up the gown, and we’ll have ourselves a nice chat.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Eat before it grows cold,” the housekeeper ordered.
Beatrice nodded as she reached for the warm chocolate. She didn’t think she’d ever tasted anything so lovely.
“I’ll tell you right now that Mr. Walker is a proper gentleman,” Mrs. Beverly continued as she tidied up the room. “You’ve nothing to worry about with him.”
Beatrice glanced at Mr. Walker to see an amused expression softening his face.
“Thank you, Mrs. Beverly.” He dipped his head, a hint of a smile curling the corner of his mouth. “I appreciate your confidence in me.”
The woman smoothed her gown. “My pleasure. Your breakfast will be ready when you are, sir.” She bobbed a curtsy and departed.
It took all of Beatrice’s will to stop from gobbling down the delicious meal. But with Mr. Walker watching her, she did her best to eat slowly, pausing often to enjoy the chocolate. He spoke of inconsequential matters, including the weather, and avoided asking questions as if aware that would keep her from eating.
As her father used to say, a good meal could cure many ills, and she felt much restored by the time she’d eaten half. There was no possibility of finishing it all.
Now that her stomach was full, weariness dragged at her once again.
“Why don’t you rest?” he suggested as if her exhaustion were written on her face. “We can visit further later.”
She could hardly keep her eyes open as he removed the tray and left the room. Though she didn’t like to take advantage of the man’s kindness, determining how to proceed would have to wait until she felt better. To her surprise, images of her handsome rescuer comforted her in her dreams, especially his smile and those golden eyes.
DANIEL FINISHED HIS breakfast then moved to the study, his thoughts still on Miss Linfield. Her story was shocking. Horrifying, in fact. Had what she’d endured been all the more terrifying to her because she was a vicar’s daughter and most likely led a sheltered life?
He admired her pluck for having escaped the brothel and shuddered to think of what might’ve happened if she hadn’t. From what she had told him, she’d narrowly escaped before being forced into prostitution.
The authorities needed to be informed of the situation. Perhaps after resting more, she’d be
