“Indeed, I am,” Tom agreed.
Blackwood cocked his dark head to the side. “And did she take your warning well or did you shock her to her shoes?”
“I did not shock her,” he informed, his own mind drifting back to the meeting and how fierce she was… and how he had felt a shocking affinity for her. “She was strong, like tempered steel. She was wary of me at first, wise young lady that she is, but she took what I said, and I’m glad of it.”
Blackwood nodded “A good deed done then. Hopefully, it shall work out as you hope and she will be safe.”
Safe.
It was a difficult word. He did not think she would. How could she be in a society meant to tear young ladies down? He dug his fingernails into his palms. Surely there was more that he could do than simply warn her. But she did not know him. She did not trust him. They were not friends.
“Blackwood,” he began, hardly believing he was daring to ask. “Do you think you could introduce me to her father?” He paused then boldly launched himself into dangerous waters. “Do you think you could introduce me to her in a proper capacity?”
Blackwood’s hard eyes widened. “You wish to be introduced into society, Tom? Not the demimonde, but the ton? Truly?”
Suddenly, Tom felt a chasm open up. Had he reached too far? Was he about to be shoved back to where hebelonged?
And as he felt the age-old fear of not truly belonging anywhere rear its head, he squared his shoulders and stated, “I think I would.”
“My God, Tom, she must have affected you greatly,” Blackwood marveled. “You have no great love of lords and ladies. For you to be willing to put yourself in their midst, you must like her a good deal.”
“I’ve not been in her presence more than ten minutes,” Tom reminded, “but I need to know, for whatever mad reason, that she will be well. I want to watch over her.”
Blackwood stilled “What the devil do you mean by that?”
Tom looked to the window, uncertain how to explain the strange feelings growing inside him. “If I can be near her, I can assure the fact that she will not be harmed.”
“Her bodyguard, Tom? That’s not the role of a gentleman of society.”
“I have no interest in being a gentleman of society,” Tom said tightly.
He ground his teeth together, and then admitted, “But there is something inside me that insists I see to her safety, that I make certain that she is unharmed, that I am sure that she finds the right life.”
He thought of his best friend, his childhood friend that he had raced the streets with, who had lost her life when she was about fourteen years old to darkness, to cruelty.
He did not let himself think of her often because if he did think of Mary and the way that she had been seized from him… well, all his peace would abandon him.
But if he helped this young woman, surely Mary would be pleased. Surely it would be a way of honoring his childhood friend and maybe then his childhood friend could know more peace as she slumbered in the earth, in her pauper’s grave.
He had tried to find Mary, tried to move her to a proper graveyard, but it had been impossible. The records had been lost.
After all, she had been no one. Nothing.
He had erected statues in his own personal garden, angels weeping, to remember her.
It had not been enough.
And now as he stood in his office above his club, which was a place full of joy and openness, he did not feel joyful or open. He felt… he felt brittle, as if he might not be able to bear the coldness of the world despite the warmth that he tried to bring to it.
Not when women like Lady Elizabeth and Mary were in such dire trouble every day.
But perhaps, perhaps, he could do a good turn and that might lift his soul from its dark mood. Yes, perhaps he would be able to shake off this strange sadness which had begun to cling to him as of late and he could at least find purpose again.
“Right,” Blackwood said, committing himself. “If it’s what you want, Tom, I’ll introduce you. I’ll make certain that no one can turn you away. Everyone will know for sure that you are approved by me.”
Blackwood gave him a dangerous smile, his eyes flashing. “And then, Tom, once they find out how wealthy you are, no one will care that you were born in the East End. You’ll have a line of mama’s hoping for a vast fortune. For I shall make certain that everyone knows that you are a man of worth and that, and your coin, is all that will matter to those silly blue blood fools.”
Chapter 6