“Not a chance, my friend.” Bergen’s lips twitched. “I plan to savor every word which comes from the gentleman who swore he would never marry.”
Chapter 12
A small apartment in East End…
“What do you mean, he overheard you speak, woman? You have told a man—a man who deals in children like cattle—where to find my… mother’s orphanage?” A thick vein pulsed in Lord Wilford Whitton’s neck and his bulbous nose flattened in rage. “Tell me again how you spilled my business to a stranger, and how you know this man!”
“I should ask you the same,” the woman muttered, her voice barely audible.
“What did you say?” he roared, propelling his flaccid body from the chair beside her bed.
She stepped out of his path and moved to the window overlooking the street and stared outside at nothing.
“I swear, Lord Whitton, I did not know the man was lurking in the shadows. I had to find a place for the child. He already has a cough… that cough that small children get what crawl in chimneys. He would not survive a life like that. I ’ad to do something.” Tears streamed down her face as she turned to face him.
“You took a child from the chimneys and moved it to the orphanage? To my mother’s orphanage? My niece lives there!” he bellowed. “If something happens, they will blame me. My mother will never forgive me—she is not one to cross.” He paced the small room.
“I am sorry…” Jenny Maven let her voice trail off. She had grown tired of Whitton’s huffy attitude, and after all she had done for him. A lord, indeed! she thought acidly. Instead of finding a protector, she had trapped herself with this odious excuse for a gentleman. He still had not told her why he was here, and she had stopped asking. It no longer mattered. She had hoped he felt something for her, yet now knew he cared only for his own hide. A sigh escaped her.
“Did you say something?” he thundered. “My niece has two women and about a dozen children living there, and you tell a blackguard who would do them all harm where to find them?” He held her gaze. “I cannot trust you with any information.”
“Is that so, your lordship?” Furious and no longer afraid, she walked right up to him and pointed her finger close to his face. “Keep your voice down. I have some pride, and I do not need everyone to hear us. As far as your niece and the children are concerned, do not pretend to care about anyone but yourself. And I might suggest you stop shouting, considering you may want no one to know you are here.” To her surprise, he stopped blustering and stared, boring into her with obsidian eyes. “Yes. I took Benjamin there. What of it?” She refused to cower to this man.
“You know his name? Is he your bastard?” He squinted, and his mouth pulled into a sneer as he taunted her.
“What business would it be of yours, if he was?” She hurled the quickest response she could think of in return. Were he standing closer, she might have slapped him. He had repulsed her. Lord Whitton was not a handsome man. He looked utterly revolting, like a squat, red-faced toad. How had her life become so desperate that she had committed any of her time to him? Jenny resolved, in that moment, that Whitton would know nothing further about her life. “I did not know he had followed me.” Her voice sounded calmer and more measured than she felt. She had not even considered the possibility. Realization of her carelessness sent shivers of fear quaking through her. It was likely the child she had tried to save was in danger, thanks to her stupidity. If Sneed sees him, he will take him. She had been nothing but stupid lately, starting with allowing this short wad of a man into her apartment.
“What business is it of mine?” he mocked. “The man is a murderer!” Whitton continued his rant as he paced the room. “He has no conscience. The children play only a small part in his evil deeds.”
It was clear Whitton feared his mother’s wrath. Guilt over her sharp criticism of him—even though it be to herself—made her consider the possibility that he cared for at least, some of his family. He blustered enough about each of them. She surely knew every member by now—at least, everything he felt was wrong about them. His niece was a spinster, and according to her uncle, it was because she shunned the ton and all it afforded her. Jenny could not imagine spurning such a glamorous existence.
His niece’s father was a stupid man, according to Whitton. He could have appealed to his mother for funds to care for his family when the family business fell on hard times, yet pride had kept him from asking. And Jenny could not even start on the confused web of insults and attributes he directed at his sister, although it seemed he cared for her.
“You have placed me in a difficult position,” he finally said. His voice sounded calmer.
“I have apologized. Do you not think I feel bad enough about it? I could have kept my suspicion my own secret and not shared it with you.”
“There has been nothing else you should tell me about, has there?” he taunted again.
“Fret you not, my lord,” she said with a firm note of sarcasm, adding untruthfully, “I have said nothing to anyone about you being here. I merely feel sorry about the boy—Benjamin. However, your being in this difficult position is of your own doing,” Jenny derided, holding her hands on her hips. “Do not forget that. You stabbed a peer.”
He started at her words, causing her to back away a step.
Pretending more courage than she felt, she caught his gaze. “Yes, I know what you did. You refused to tell me, and
