King clutched his belly and gave her a mournful look. “I’m starving. A man cannot survive on bread and water alone. I know you have a crown.” He knew because he’d given it to her. “I’ll buy food for our supper and bring you the change.”
She shook her head. “I’ll buy food for supper. You stay here and scrub, and if you don’t do your part, you won’t get anything for supper.”
“That seems rather harsh.”
She made a sound of dismissal and turned on her heel.
King stepped into the tavern and spotted the maid behind the bar. “I’ve been sentenced to hard labor,” he told her. “What should I do?”
The maid giggled and stammered. Finally, she calmed enough to give him the mop while she went on her knees with the scrub brush. King mopped at the sticky floor, privately thinking it would never be clean, but he was hungry enough to do anything at this point.
The bell of a distant church chimed five, and the maid rose, dried her hands on her apron, and dropped her brush in the pail.“Well, I’m off, then,” she said, peeking at him from under her lids.
“What do you mean, you’re off?”
“I stop work at five. I go home and make supper for my ma. She’s a healer and forgets to eat most days. She’ll be hungry as a horse.” She smiled and added, “Usually I come back at night to help Vi with the washing and cleaning, but she won’t be open tonight.”
King looked about the tavern. It was in better shape than it had been this morning, but it wasn’t yet ready for patrons. “No doubt Miss Baker will blame me for the loss of business.”
“She does have a bit of a temper, but if she was all soft and weak, she’d never have survived this long. Nor those brothers of her, neither.”
“Why is she all alone?” he asked. “No husband? No father? Her brothers are too young to protect her.”
“Joshua tries, but he’s only thirteen, and little Georgie is barely six. Vi has to be mother and father to them since her pa passed away.”
“When was that?”
Peggy scratched her head and drew her hand away, examining her finger to see if anything came with it. “Maybe three years ago? But he were sick longer than that. She’s been running the Silver Unicorn for almost five years now. Least, that’s what Archie told me.”
King would have asked who Archie was, but he didn’t know when Miss Baker would return, and he wanted more of her story before the maid left. “And her mother?”
“Oh, her mother died when she was a baby. I don’t think she ever knew her.”
“How is that possible, if she has two brothers?”
“Those are her stepmother’s boys. She moved in with young Joshua and the baby when she married Mr. Baker. But it wasn’t long before she took ill with cholera.”
King leaned against the counter. So Violet Baker was not only on her own, she was caring for two boys who were not even technically related to her. She could read and write and do sums. She could have worked in a shop or applied to become a teacher. The pay might not have been much, but she might have escaped Seven Dials and had some measure of security. Instead, she was stuck here with the burden of two young boys tied about her neck.
And now he had added to that burden as well.
King shook his head. He’d offered to pay her for the damage to the tavern—even if he wasn’t exactly responsible. And he’d mopped at least a foot of the floor. If anything, he was helping her.
“May I go, my lord?” the maid asked. “My ma will be very hungry.”
“You’re dismissed,” he said, giving her a wave of his hand.
She scurried away, and King was tempted to put the mop down. He swished it about one more time then leaned on the bar. Underneath, Miss Baker had stacked the unbroken bottles of spirits. He found a half-full bottle of sherry and peered about for a glass. Finding one, he held it near a tallow candle, trying to determine if it was clean or not. Then, with a shrug, he uncorked the bottle.
“Pour me a glass too,” said a voice from the doorway.
King looked up and spotted the figure of Carlisle in the entryway. He set the glass down and came around the bar. “Henry, thank God.”
Henry raised his brows. “That’s probably the first time anyone has thanked God for me. Things must be worse than I thought.”
“Much worse. You heard about my father.”
Henry, the Duke of Carlisle, strode into the tavern and looked down his nose at the place. “This seems vaguely familiar. But your father, yes. It’s all over the papers. He’s in the Tower, and everyone says he’ll be hanged for treason. I’d offer you my condolences, but I know you hate the man.”
