Georgie glanced at the stern profile of the man walking beside her. He was tall and strong, his face attractive rather than handsome and just at the moment he looked annoyed. She supposed he was within his rights to be angry with her, because she had kicked him in the shins and she had stolen that packet from him. Most men would have cuffed her round the ear or sent for the watchman, but he had taken her to a decent inn and fed her. On the face of it he seemed trustworthy, but Georgie had learned in a hard school and she knew that people were often not what they seemed. She wanted to trust him, needed to be able to trust someone, because the last two weeks of living rough had shown her that she wasn’t very good at looking after herself.
She hadn’t thought much about what she was doing when she ran away. In her innocence she had thought it would be easy to fend for herself for a while—just until she thought about what she ought to do next—but losing her purse the very first day had changed everything. She had been so naïve, taking her money out to pay for food and just holding the purse loosely by the strings rather than tucking it away again. The man who had snatched it had been so quick that she had had no idea of his intention and he was away with it before she could recover from the shock. Since then she had been roaming the streets, wondering how she could earn or steal enough money to survive, and she had been desperate when she saw him…Captain Hernshaw, the innkeeper had called him.
What kind of a man was he? Georgie wondered. He looked like a military man, and, considering his title, he probably was—but he was nothing like the officers she had met in the past. There was something hard and wary about him, an air of being alert at all times…and the look in his eyes could send shivers down her spine. One part of her was telling her she ought to run now while she had the chance, because he would make a bad enemy and when he discovered she had lied to him he would be angry. But she’d seen him when they left the inn and it had sent shock waves through her, because she knew what would happen if he found her.
She had shrunk closer to the side of the man she had felt her protector, her fear very real until they were well away from him. Should she confess the whole truth to Captain Hernshaw, throw herself on his mercy and trust in him to help her? He was a stranger to her! If he knew the truth, he might try to take advantage. It was difficult to know who she could trust…if indeed she could trust anyone.
Georgie shivered. They were approaching a row of terraced houses in an elegant square. At least it was a respectable address, a place where she might be able to hide for a few days while she recovered her strength and took stock of her situation. She stayed close to her protector as he rapped at the door, which was opened by a gentleman of advanced years dressed in discreet black.
‘Ah, there you are, sir.’ The faded blue eyes flicked to Georgie’s face, but he gave no sign of curiosity. ‘You are early this evening, Captain Hernshaw.’
‘Yes, Jensen,’ Richard replied with a faint smile. ‘As you say I am early, though I may go out again later. Has Mrs Jensen retired yet?’
‘No, sir. She is in her sitting room. Shall I tell her that you require her services?’
‘She may attend me in the front parlour at her convenience. I wish to place this young lad under her care.’
‘Young lad in her care?’ For a moment Jensen’s face froze, but in seconds he had recovered. ‘Yes, of course, sir. I shall tell Mrs Jensen immediately. Is there anything else you require, sir?’
‘Well done, Jensen,’ Richard said and Georgie saw a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. ‘Nothing throws you, does it? No, I require nothing further. It is my intention to go out again once I have this small matter in hand.’
‘Just as you say, sir.’
The manservant went off. Georgie followed her protector into a parlour of medium proportions. It was furnished with heavy mahogany pieces that gave it a stately air, rather ponderous and definitely the home of a man who lived alone. There were cabinets filled with objects that looked to be of a scientific nature made of brass or steel, and two large globes on stands were placed one at either side of the window. A desk stood beneath the window, so that the light fell on it, and was cluttered with what looked like old pieces of bone to Georgie.
‘Are you a scientist?’ she asked, looking at her rescuer curiously.
‘No, but my uncle was,’ Richard replied. ‘He left this house to me and I have done nothing with it, as you see. Uncle Frederick never married. He left me his estate because I was his favourite and—’ He broke off, a look of pain in his eyes. ‘I shared some of his interests at one time, but I have been away for some years.’
‘Oh…’ Georgie picked up one of the pieces of what she now saw were fossils. ‘What is this?’
‘A part of the thigh bone of a dinosaur,’ Richard replied. ‘My uncle studied fossils of all kinds. I have no particular interest in bones myself, but I hardly ever use this house, except when I stay in town. I prefer the country and of course I have been away.’ He frowned at her. Here in the brighter lights of his house, he saw that she looked older than he’d first imagined, not truly a child. ‘You can’t be interested in any of this. Will you not tell me who you really are and why you ran away?’
‘I…’ Georgie began. She was still uncertain whether to trust him with the whole story and was relieved when someone knocked at the door. She saw his quick frown, but he did not hesitate.
‘Come in, Mrs Jensen.’
An elderly woman entered. She was plump, white-haired and looked approachable, though a little surprised and anxious. It was obvious that she did not know what to make out of the tale her husband had clearly been telling her.
‘There was something I can do for you, sir?’
‘Yes, Mrs Jensen,’ Richard replied. ‘I want you to help this young lad. He is in some trouble and I have rescued him and brought him here for his safety. He has eaten, but needs to bathe and requires more suitable clothes and a bed of his own to sleep in. Do you think you can help me out please, Dora?’
‘Yes, of course, sir.’ Dora Jensen gave him a look of such adoration that Georgie knew at once that the woman had known Captain Hernshaw many years and trusted him completely. ‘The poor little mite. I’ll take him away now, shall I, sir?’
‘Yes, if you please.’ He turned to Georgie. ‘Dora was my uncle’s housekeeper for many years, and we have known each other since I was in short coat s. She will look after you, Georgie. I have to go out again on business, but I shall see you in the morning. We shall talk further then.’
‘Yes…thank you,’ Georgie said, giving him an uncertain smile. ‘You have been…kind.’
He nodded to her, but made no further comment. Georgie saw the housekeeper was looking at her expectantly and she went to her dutifully, following her from the room and up the stairs.
‘We always keep a couple of rooms ready in case the captain decides to invite a guest to stay, though he doesn’t trouble us much,’ Mrs Jensen told her as she looked back, making certain Georgie was just behind her. ‘I often say to Jensen that things hardly changed when the old gentleman died.’
‘Was that Mr Frederick Hernshaw?’
‘Sir Frederick,’ Mrs Jensen corrected. ‘He was a gentleman of learning, quiet and scholarly. He sometimes had a few of the dons to dinner—university men like himself—but never ladies. There has not been a lady in this
