Chapter Sixteen
Later that night, Quinn paced back and forth on a deserted street corner in Mayfair, cursing himself for having agreed to this. But he’d seen the look of determination on Allison’s face and known she’d come whether he agreed to it or not. She’d just looked so... vulnerable. He’d never seen her that way, and it had slayed him.
Truth be told, he wanted to make her feel better, even if it were her own foolhardy notions that had upset her so much. Those children had really affected her. She didn’t understand that some people couldn’t be helped, mostly because they did not want to be helped. The gang bosses who recruited those children gave them food and shelter, but more importantly, they made them feel like they were part of a family, as though they belonged. It would be hard for Allison to ever recreate that, no matter how much money she threw at the problem. She had such big dreams and wanted to help those less fortunate than her. He didn’t want to crush those dreams, didn’t want her to give up, but reality had a way of showing you that some things were just beyond fixing.
The sound of a gate latching broke the silence, and he glanced down the street to see a figure in a hooded cloak hurrying toward him. When she drew closer, he caught a glimpse of Allison’s lovely face.
“You’re here,” she said softly, throwing her arms around his neck. “I wasn’t certain that you would be.”
He held her tightly, breathing in her scent, vanilla and cinnamon. “Of course, I’m here. I told you I would be, didn’t I?”
She brushed her lips against his throat then backed away, smiling widely. “Let’s go then. I have so much I want to talk to you about.”
He motioned toward the hack he’d had wait down the block, once again wishing he had a coach of his own to offer. “Your chariot awaits.”
She smiled and followed him down the street. He handed her up into the hack then settled beside her.
“Are you cold?” he asked. The day had been warm, but a definite chill hung in the air now.
She shook her head but pulled her cloak more tightly around her. “I’m fine.” Tucking her head under his chin, she snuggled up against him. “Thank you for coming for me. I really didn’t want to ride across town all by myself.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her even tighter against him, an uncanny feeling of peace wash over him. Despite everything, it felt so good to hold her this way, as if she were actually his.
For the rest of the ride, they just stayed snuggled silently together. He knew she wanted to talk about what had happened today but now didn’t seem to be the time. He didn’t want to push her by bringing it up himself.
At last, they arrived at his house, and he ushered her in, quickly shutting the door behind him. Once again, he was very aware that she didn’t belong here, in his modest house in Bethnal Green. But before he could dwell on all the reasons why, she turned around and threw her arms against his neck, pressing him to the door as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him wildly.
For a few moments, he let himself get lost in the taste of her, in her warmth and sweetness, but then he forced himself to break the kiss and put a little distance between them. “Allison,” he whispered, “I think we need to talk.”
To his surprise, she nodded. “Yes, we do. After the way I acted last time, I know you might find it hard to believe, but that’s why I wanted to see you tonight. I just... wanted to be with you.”
He took her hand, drawing her toward the parlor, wondering if he were relieved or disappointed. “Would you like something to drink or eat?”
“Something to drink, please,” she said softly as she sat down on the sofa.
He paused to stare at her for a moment, still so taken with the picture of her in his home. Every time he’d walked by his sofa during the past week, he’d pictured her there. He couldn’t get the image of her sensual abandon out of his mind. He cleared his throat. “I have tea, red wine, and whisky.”
“Wine, please,” she answered, pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapping it tightly around her.
He smiled, loving that she was making herself at home, and went to get the bottle of wine and some glasses from the sideboard. “I’m certain that you’re used to drinking out of crystal,” he said somewhat apologetically as he poured her a glass and handed it to her.
“Is that truly what you think about me?” Her face fell as she took it. “That I care whether I drink out of crystal?”
He sighed and sat down beside her with his own glass. “That wasn’t meant to be an insult. I suppose I’m just feeling a little self-conscious about my inability to give you the sorts of things you’re used to.”
Cupping his face with her hand, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. “I don’t care about any of that. I’m here with you tonight because I like and trust you. I want to learn everything about you.”
He shook his head, charmed by her words but also a bit frightened by them. He wondered if it was time to discuss his past, the woman who’d hurt him so badly, the way he’d risen above his station in life. He couldn’t let this woman, beautiful and sweet as she was, make him into her plaything. He couldn’t let himself believe that she cared for him. “I like and trust you, too, Allison.”
She took a deep drink of her wine, then sat it down on the side table. “Those children we saw today really upset me,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to be alone with my feelings tonight.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her a bit closer. “People shouldn’t have to live like that,” he agreed. “With no hope, no way to better themselves.”
“Seeing that... it just makes me feel so embarrassed about all the riches I’ve been given. I want to help, but I’m finding out that I have no idea what people need. The women at Mercy House obviously thought my rules imprisoned them. But when I asked them what they truly wanted, it was just to drink and have fun. I wanted to think I was helping them become better people, but I’ve realized that I have no right to decide for them how they should best live their lives.”
He frowned, trying to figure out what he should say, how honest he should be with her. How could she ever understand the concepts of hunger, poverty, or the fear of homelessness? It wasn’t her fault she’d been born into such a privileged life. “In my experience, you can only help those who are willing to help themselves, and those who are willing to help themselves rarely need help.”
“That’s insightful,” she said with a smile. “But I don’t think it’s that easy.”