Wedded in Sin (5 page)

She closed her mouth and eyed him with exasperation. But she didn’t say anything.

“Miss Shoemaker?”

“I’ll be happy to tell you, Mr. Morrison, but not in front for your jilted lover.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Instead of answering, she gestured vaguely to the area behind him. He spun around, nearly splitting open her bag of feet on a nearby tree. But that was nothing compared to the horror he felt when he saw the woman who was right then breaking speed records as she ran pell-mell at them.

“She’s not my mistress!” he snapped. “She’s much, much worse.”

“Oh?” came Miss Shoemaker’s amused response.

“Yes. She’s my brother.”

Miss Shoemaker snorted. “How can a woman be your brother?”

“Same way Tommy’s father is your shoemaker.” He sighed because she clearly didn’t understand. And because there was no way to avoid Georgette. “You’ll see,” he said darkly. “My brother, his wife—they both have the same brain. And it’s not that fond of me.”

Chapter 3

Penny knew enough to keep her mouth shut when the
stern-looking German woman finally stopped, huffing and puffing, right in front of them. She was fast, despite her bulk, which meant that Mr. Morrison had no time to run, though his gaze darted left and right, obviously searching for an escape. Meanwhile, Penny had time to look at the woman more clearly.

Under normal circumstances, Penny would have called her cheery. The woman looked exactly like the mother in a set of nesting dolls she’d once played with. She was rosy cheeked and dressed in a bright gown of yellow with light blue accents. But the gimlet eye she trained on Mr. Morrison was just short of evil. Fortunately, she hadn’t the breath to speak, which allowed Mr. Morrison to try an escape.

“Ah, Georgette!” he cried, in clearly false cheer. “Lovely to see you, having fun shopping? Well, I can see that you’ve got other things to do, so I shall leave you to them. Good day!”

He made to move away, but the woman grabbed hold of his arm and clutched tight enough to make Mr. Morrison wince.

“Hold still, Samuel,” she snapped. “Your brother needs a word.”

“Then I shall contact him in due time—”

“Just a moment! I shall tell you it directly.”

“But you never stop at just one word,” he drawled as he eyed the midday sky. “And it’ll be dusk before you’re done.”

Penny raised her eyebrows at that, but Georgette looked positively thunderous.

“We wouldn’t use so many words if you would but
listen
to us.”

Mr. Morrison heaved a mighty sigh. “You make a common mistake, Georgette. Listening is not the same thing as obeying. I do listen. I can hardly help but listen.”

“And then you forget and go about your merry way without a thought in your head.”

“Never that, Georgette. Never, ever without a thought in my head.” He sounded downright morose at that. Meanwhile, Penny realized that she ought not to be standing there listening to what was obviously a family squabble. So with a slight nod, she started to step away.

“I shall leave you to your family,” she began, but Mr. Morrison was quick to grab her elbow.

“No, no. We have business, you and I. Urgent business, that cannot wait.”

“Urgent!” the woman scoffed. “As if you have anything urgent in your life! Your brother was just commenting the other day about the company you keep! Tarts and artists.” She sniffed and curled her lip.

Up until that moment, Penny was inclined to be neutral toward the woman. After all, she understood how men could be exasperating, and so she was prepared to remain silent. But at those words, she stiffened her spine. This woman had no cause to be bringing her into her family spat. But long before she could say anything, Mr. Morrison stepped forward, his face dark and cold as Penny hadn’t seen before. Not even when he was facing the thugs who had stolen her home.

“You forget yourself, Georgette,” he snapped. “May I present Miss Shoemaker and her brother, Thomas.”

“Does she write poetry?” the woman sneered.

“She’s my client, Georgette. Miss Shoemaker, my brother’s shrew of a wife, Baronness Georgette Morrison.”

Penny smiled politely and nodded. She managed to force herself to say, “Baronness,” in greeting, but that was all. Meanwhile, the woman’s expression slid from disdain, through outrage, to a slow but very clear shock. In fact, her mouth opened and closed twice before she found her voice.

“Client?” she finally asked.

“A small legal matter. Miss Shoemaker hired me to help her sort it out.”

“You’re working? You have a job, Samuel? Sweet heaven, that’s wonderful! Your brother is so pleased!”

“My brother is nothing of the kind as he does not know. Now if you’ll excuse us—”

“Wait! Wait!” She huffed out a breath and had the grace to look ashamed. “I am terribly sorry for misjudging you,” she said to Penny. But then she turned to her brother-in-law, and her eyes went cold. “Your brother is most vexed with you.”

“That is hardly news—”

“It’s about Maximilian.”

Mr. Morrison froze and even Penny could see the sudden wariness in his expression. “Yes?” he said slowly.

“You forgot!”

“I could hardly forget I have a nephew, Georgette. I—”

“Idiot! You forgot his birthday!”

“I most certainly did not! His party is…It’s…” He frowned and looked at Penny. “Oh, bloody hell, what day is it today?”

“It was yesterday!” his sister-in-law snapped. “Yesterday was the party and yesterday you were not there! Please, God, tell me you were busy obtaining work or abducted by pirates or something meaningful!”

Both women looked at his face, hoping for a ready excuse, but he had none. The guilt was written plain as day, and all he could do was shake his head. “I was sure it was tomorrow.”

“Harumph!” snorted his sister-in-law. “I cannot tell you how disappointed Gregory is in you.”

Mr. Morrison rolled his eyes at his sister, and truly Penny was a half breath away from doing the same thing. It was clear the man felt guilty enough. The woman did not have to heap on more blame. And in the way of families, Mr. Morrison only made it worse.

“Really, Georgette? Gregory is disappointed? One would think it would be the boy who expressed dismay. Or do you simply tell the boy what to think as you do everyone else?”

“Max? Max is a boy. He doesn’t say anything but kicks furniture and mopes about! If you have a brain in your head—”

“Oh, my God!” snapped Penny, her patience completely exhausted. They were on Bond Street, in full view of everyone, and were picking at each other like a pair of magpies. “Mr. Morrison, pray say that you are sorry and that you will bring round a gift immediately. And, Baroness Morrison, please will you simply accept his apology? Scolding at a man never does anything but stop his ears up tighter than a drum.”

Penny expected to be roundly cursed by both parties. After all, she was the interloper here, but really, they had both lost any semblance of reason. Far from cursing her, however, the lady stared at her in shock. And then a moment later, she rocked back on her heels as her gaze swept the street around them. They hadn’t attracted much attention. Truly, family squabbles happened every day on Bond Street, and this one had progressed in icy cold tones, not screeching yells. But it was embarrassing nonetheless.

“Of course, you are quite correct, Miss Shoemaker,” the baroness finally said. “You are a clever girl and quite above his usual company. Are you sure you want to employ him?”

Penny had nothing to say to that, though naturally Mr. Morrison did. “Oh, leave off, Georgette. And I shall do you one better than a promise of a gift. Here, give the boy this.” He passed the woman Penny’s satchel of molds.

“Hey!” cried both women, but for entirely different reasons. Penny had just risked everything to save the likes from Mr. Cordwain. She did not want them passed to some relation’s son! What the baroness thought of the heavy satchel was written in her very curled lip. But before either woman could say more, Mr. Morrison held up his hand.

“Please, ladies, give me a moment to explain. Georgette, the bag is not the gift, but the puzzle is. Have Max inventory it and make a list of all the people who might want to kill for it.”

“Kill!” the woman gasped. “He’s just a boy!”

“Exactly! He will love it. Not a boy alive who doesn’t love murder and mayhem.”

Apparently the baroness couldn’t argue that, so that left time for Mr. Morrison to turn to Penny.

“And, Miss Shoemaker, your things will be quite safe there with Max. He’s a most clever boy, very careful with his things, especially my presents to him.”

His sister-in-law nodded, oddly in accord on this point. “They are like two peas in a pod, those two. I cannot understand it, but rest assured, my Max will treat this like gold.”

“But—” began Penny, only to be overrun once again by her daft toff.

“And what will you say if a certain gentleman claims that they are lost? He will come round looking for them, will he not? And this way you can truthfully say that you have no idea where they are.”

“But I will know,” she said with a sigh.

“Do you know where my brother lives? Of course not—”

His sister-in-law spoke up. “Well, that’s easy enough. Our house is in—”

“Georgette! Hush! My God, what are you thinking? She cannot know where you live.”

“But—”

“Oh, spare me from a woman who cannot think!”

Baroness Morrison was about to snap back at him, but Penny intervened. “I believe Mr. Morrison is playing a game with the constable. Pray do not argue with him. He believes he is being very clever. But he doesn’t understand that I am not one to lie to the authorities. That will only make my problems worse.”

Mr. Morrison grimaced at her words, but he didn’t have time to speak before his sister-in-law cried out in horror.

“Constable? Authorities? My God, Samuel, you cannot involve Maximilian in such things!”

“Do not be so dramatic!” he returned, his brow furrowing as he glared down at the cobblestone. “Miss Shoemaker, it matters not what you say to the constable, so long as you don’t have the thing at hand. We need time, don’t you see? Time to prove the fraud. And if Cordwain gets his hands on that bag, you will never see it again. Of that you can be sure.”

He had a point. She had just risked everything to take it out of the shop. She did need a good hiding place for it. Why not leave it with a young boy who would take great care of it?

“He will not harm them?”

“I assure you,” the man continued, “this will be a great treasure to Max. And you would have my deepest gratitude as well. Pray, do not disappoint the child. That would be very cruel.”

He was charming her, his expression so earnest she couldn’t help smiling. To the side, Baroness Morrison was similarly exasperated and amused. “I never understand half of what he says, Miss Shoemaker. Your word of honor that no harm will befall my boy for taking…whatever it is in this bag?”

“Oh, good God, Georgette. They’re not dangerous!”

The two were about to start squabbling, so Penny once again stepped between them. “There’s nothing dangerous about them,” she said gently. “And I would be grateful if your son could keep track of it for me for a bit. Now if you’ll forgive me…” Penny rehoisted her sleeping brother on her shoulder. “Tommy is rather heavy and it has already been a long day.”

The baroness took the cue and her leave. She carried the satchel awkwardly, but with a firm grip. And a moment later, she was stepping into a hansom cab, presumably on her way home to her son.

Meanwhile, beside Penny, Mr. Morrison was releasing a sigh of relief. “Good God, but the woman’s exhausting!”

Penny snorted and began walking again toward the dress shop. “I rather think she says the same about you.”

“I don’t doubt it!” he said as he fell into step beside her. “Thing is, she’s the perfect woman for my brother. And she gave birth to a wonderful boy, that Max. Smart as can be. But she can’t get it into her head that I’m not part of her circle of management.”

Penny nodded, unsure how to take that comment. After all, the baroness did indeed seem to be a managing sort of woman. But on the other hand, she suspected that, as men went, Mr. Morrison could do with a little direction. He seemed to be a little—or perhaps a lot—out of step with the rest of the world. She could only be grateful that his current step was alongside hers. Assuming, of course, that he was able to help her. To that end, she turned to him.

“Do you really think you can expose the solicitor as a fraud?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. That shall be easy. Proving that he had your parents murdered, now that will be a challenge!”

Penny stumbled, the bluntness of his words cutting straight to her heart. They had been talking about this, of course, before his sister-in-law appeared. He had asked her about their murder, but her mind had been so preoccupied with losing the shop, with who exactly he was, with everything that had happened this day, that she had not comprehended his thoughts. The solicitor had her parents murdered? But…but…They had been killed by footpads or so the constable had told her. Could all of this be one piece? The idea was monstrous and it was more than she could handle at that moment.