Taming of the Beast (Scandalous Affairs #2) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,26

at last remembered the two women standing there and staring, the boy blushed. “Ye can wait in the kitchens. Only room that’s got a fire.” He jabbed a finger down the hall, and Faye immediately led her friend onward, following the now-familiar path she’d traveled not so very long ago. That room where Tynan Wylie had stroked her lower lip, and she’d believed he’d again intended to take her mouth under his. And had wanted it and—

Faye gave thanks for the shroud of darkness that concealed her suddenly burning cheeks.

They reached the kitchens, and the moment they were inside, the boy folded his arms at his small chest. “’E’s not going to be happy to see you.”

He wasn’t going to be happy to see her? Well, that would make them a perfect pair, as she would be none too happy about seeing him. Not under these circumstances. “Given he never had intentions of honoring our arrangement and took my money and will now find me here, then yes, I expect you’re right,” she allowed. Tugging off her gloves, she set them upon the bare table.

Faye did a sweep of the kitchens. Since last night, the tub had been put away, and there was the faintest hint of bread that lingered in the air.

“Ye ain’t going to change his mind,” he said around another mouthful of candy. That observation, however, was directed at the sack as he sifted through the article. He withdrew his fingers, revealing an empty grip this time.

She looked over the top of his head.

Wordlessly, Daria instantly withdrew another small satchel and dangled it before him.

The boy’s eyes brightened, and he grabbed the bag.

“What is your name?” Faye asked after he’d swallowed down two more lemon drops.

More of that suspicion deepened a gaze far older than the eight or nine years the child surely was. Her heart tugged for the unfairness of his circumstances.

“Finn,” he said with a grunt.

“Finn,” she said with another smile. “Perhaps we might speak… for just a bit?”

Chapter 8

There were two matters of business Tynan needed to see to following his release from Newgate. The first meeting concluded, he braced for the next, which took precedence over all. Because, given his current circumstances, all hinged upon this meeting.

As such, it should have been his first appointment.

And yet, it hadn’t been.

“This way, Mr. Wylie,” the butler was saying as he escorted Tynan through the unlikeliest Grosvenor Square residence.

In truth, the fellow had always been polite. He’d never turned his nose up at having to deal with Tynan. But then, servants followed the way of their employers, and the man who commanded this household had never been anything but respectful of Tynan, treating him as though he was a man of honor.

More the fool was he.

Tynan, however, was hoping for one more spot of magnanimity from Lord Lothian.

“I did not doubt you would find yourself freed, my boy.”

My boy. Lord Lothian was the only one to call Tynan by that ridiculous moniker. As the boy who’d had it directed his way, Tynan had gone through an evolution from disdain to annoyance and then, ultimately, acceptance, where he ceased to hear it. Particularly in light of the former revelation contained within that statement.

Tynan tipped his lips up at the corners. “Ah,” he drawled.

“Oh, hush with that tone and that silly grin.”

“I don’t—”

“Know what I’m talking about? You absolutely do. That veneer of ice and frost you present to society. I know you for what you are, Tynan Wylie…even with the crime of bribing against your name.”

Just like that, Tynan erased the smile from his face. Lord Lothian was the only one to have ever called him out for presenting a facade to the world.

And the truth was, the only actual facade was the one the man believed to be fact. He saw Tynan as the same pathetic, begging boy he’d given coin to on a chance meeting at Covent Garden and then saved from the workhouse. Tynan hadn’t been that scrawny, pitiable creature in a long, long time.

The marquess, however, had been entirely too generous for Tynan to go about debating that point. “You knew, then,” he said needlessly.

“That you not only lost your post in Newgate, but saw yourself behind those same prison cells?” Lord Lothian asked. “Yes, I knew that.”

He stood there, stiffly as the benevolent lord stared contemplatively back. This hardly proved promising. And yet, oddly Tynan’s regret came in knowing Lord Lothian was aware of his crimes. The other man had admired him