Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (25 page)

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ings. However, she wasn't about to mistake uncomfortable with vulnerable. The set of his shoulders indicated he was fully prepared to defend himself if the need arose.

To his credit, Stockport swung off the bench and joined in, loading himself down with the heavier baskets. Well, she'd see how much he was

willing to participate once they got inside.

Nora led the little group to the first floor and stopped in the dingy hallway. She gave orders regarding the delivery of the baskets and sent them off. She motioned for Stockport to follow her.

They went from door to door, delivering packages from the baskets, sometimes food, sometimes a tiny pouch of coins, sometimes oranges and wooden toys for children. At each stop the cry was the same, 'God bless The

or a similar varia-

tion of the phrase.

It tore at Nora's heart. There was so much need and her baskets were empty far too quickly. It was tempting to bring in the other baskets, safely covered up in the wagon, but then there would be nothing left for the other neighbourhoods she must visit.

They didn't stop at every door and Nora wondered if port would notice the doors without the discreet marker that indicated The Cat was welcome.

Not everyone was receptive to her aid and reciprocally, not everyone was deserving of her efforts. Nora had decided ages ago that there were some who her efforts could not drunks and ne'er-do-wells who didn't lift a finger to help their families or change their lots in life.

Climbing back up on the wagon, amid cries of gratitude and wishes for a Happy Christmas, Nora gave directions and they drove on to repeat the process. The day passed rapidly as they moved from slum to slum, stopping in Chorlton-on-Medlock, and Beswick, the neighborhoods all

the same with

their uniformly terraced workers' houses.

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Pickpocket Countess

The last visit was Anacoats, the poorest section of all, where she stopped at Widow Mary Malone's.

Nora knocked on the door. Excited voices of children whooped and shouted on the other side, followed by a light scolding for manners and a of coughing. Her heart sank. Desperation seized Nora and she gathered her strength for what lay beyond the door. If she didn't think of some way to help the widow recover, the children would be orphans by spring.

'What is it?' Stockport asked quietly, coming up beside her, so near she could feel the heat of his body next to her.

'It doesn't sound like Mary

has got better. She took

sick in November and that cough has been lingering.'

she seen a doctor?'

Nora shot him an incredulous look. 'If they had that much money, she probably wouldn't need one in the first place.' She pushed open the door and entered, leaving S tockport to follow in her wake. No matter what lay ahead, the kids deserved the best

she could manage for them. Originally, she'd felt very good about the entire basket she'd put aside for the Malones. But now, Nora felt like the basket was inadequate.

She should have done more.

The moment she entered, children ran to her, dancing around her skirts and begging to be picked up. She picked up the smallest, a blonde-haired girl of three with huge brown eyes that gave her an irresistible doll-like appearance. 'Anna, have you been a good girl?'

The little girl nodded solemnly,

on a dirty thumb.

She pointed at Stockport. 'Who's dat man?'

'He's my special helper today,' Nora said, setting her basket down on the one table in the room. The two older boys looked at the basket in anticipation and Nora gathered them to her.

'I've brought treats for a

dinner.

need your help

getting everything ready. I might even have a few presents.'

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She assigned the boys their tasks, set aside her figure-dis-guising voluminous cloak and veiling and rolled up the sleeves of her dark blouse. She looked around the room for Stockport, amazed to find him deep in conversation with Mary He'd discarded his greatcoat and had rolled his own shirtsleeves up. He nodded at something Mary said and leaned over to tuck a thin blanket about her knees.

Nora put a kettle on over the fire to warm the hearty soup she'd brought and set to sweeping. Mary did the best she could, but since her illness, she'd been less able to keep the two rooms clean. All her waning energies were spent on providing food and meals for her three children. By now there had to be very little money left from her husband's death settlement.

Nora worried what Mary would do when the money ran out.

She certainly couldn't work in her condition. Her oldest son, eleven-year-old Michael, was

at the hat factory, but the

two shillings and three pence he brought home weekly would barely be enough for bread, let alone rent or other living supplies.

Nora cast a quick look at Mary's younger son, Robert. He was six and old enough to work as a scavenger, one of the many who crawled beneath the machinery at the cotton mills to gather up loose cotton. She shuddered at the thought. The little money he would make doing such a perilous job would not be worth the risk. Each year children died, crushed beneath the heavy machinery if they slipped or were too slow. At best, Robert would end up crippled or permanently stooped from the demands of the job.

Behind her mask, Nora shut her eyes briefly and whispered a prayer. She would find a way to help the Malones. She thought of the three hundred-pound notes she had discovered in Stockport's breast pocket last night when she undressed for bed. It had been tempting to keep them. It was tempting now to give them to the Malones. Three hundred pounds would be a fortune to them. She fought the temptation. The money wasn't