“The Queen’s Palace, and it’s supposed to be here on Queen Street.”
The boy snorted. “Now that’s a good one. The queen’s palace ’ere in Seven Dials.”
“There’s a shilling in it for you, if you find the place for me.”
The boy’s muddy eyes widened. “Be right back, gov. Watch me sow, will you?” And he was off and running, calling out to the men slouching here and there to ask if they knew of the Queen’s Palace. The replies were far from helpful, and Stephen kept moving, scanning what few signs there were.
He was so intent on his work that at first he didn’t hear the tinkle of laughter from farther up the street. And then the sound of mirth, so foreign to this place, penetrated, and he turned and looked. His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of a pink muslin gown housing a familiar feminine figure.
Stephen rubbed his eyes. He told himself it couldn’t be. That it shouldn’t be. But when he opened his eyes again, there she was.
“Josephine Hale,” he barked.
A few yards away, the tall flame-haired woman with cropped curls, cocked her head. Then shaking it as though she’d made a mistake, she looked back at her companions, and Stephen was even more shocked to see that she was in the presence of two other ladies—one blond and one brunette. They were not alone. Stephen counted four footmen, but it didn’t matter. They should not be here.
He started for them, then noticed that the sow he was supposed to be minding wasn’t following.
“Pig,” he called. “Pig, come here.”
The pig snuffled at the dirt and meandered farther away.
“Bloody hell.” Stephen went after the sow, trying to ignore the jingling laughter of the women. Finally, he managed to catch the rope leash tied around the pig’s neck, and he led her up the street.
All three girls stared at him, the blond and Josephine trying to hold back giggles. The brunette had managed to regain her composure.
“Lady Madeleine,” Stephen said, bowing to the brunette woman he now recognized as the Earl of Castleigh’s daughter. His bow thrust him a few more feet than anticipated as the pig was not as keen to stop as he. But finally he had her under control. “This is an unexpected pleasure,” he said after backing up.
“My lord,” Lady Madeleine curtseyed. “Truly, this is an unexpected sight. Have you—er, come to make a donation? Or is your business purely . . . agricultural?”
“Donation?”
“He’s not here to make a donation to the orphanage, Maddie,” Josephine said. “He’s here for other reasons—undoubtedly disreputable reasons.”
“Perhaps he’s a pig thief,” the blond woman said, covering her mouth to hide a smile.
“Am I correct, Lord Westman?” Josephine asked.
“No, Miss Hale,” he said, telling himself not to notice how pretty she looked in her pink gown, her cheeks pleasantly flushed and her lips red and ripe for kissing. “As a matter of fact, I am here on a matter of legitimate business.”
“What business?” she demanded. “Pig business?”
“Personal business,” he answered, trying to shake off the sow who was pushing her nose into his boot. “What the devil are you doing here? This is no place for ladies.”
“Or gentlemen,” the blond added. Stephen gave her a tight smile, then glanced impatiently at Josephine Hale.
“My cousin,” she said in answer to his look, “Miss Ashley Brittany.”
“Of course,” Stephen bowed and gave her his best rogue’s smile. “I’ve heard of you, Miss Brittany. The rumors pale compared to the real thing.”
Ashley fluttered her eyes at him—a true flirt. “Thank you, my lord. And the rumors I’ve heard of you, well”—she looked at the sow—“clearly I have not heard the whole story.”
“Oh, bother.” His beguiling next-door neighbor sniffed. “If you want to simper and make love to each other all day, I’ll be off. Maddie and I have things to do.” And she swept past him, headed for the entrance to a dingy building with a simple sign reading “Foundling House” above it. Stephen almost laughed. The little chit was jealous. Not a moment ago, he’d been thinking about kissing those ripe lips—an act that would surely ruin all his good intentions—and she thought he wanted her cousin. If Miss Hale only knew how much he wanted her. He wasn’t about to enlighten her, nor could he allow her to escape, so with a quick nod to Lady Madeleine and Miss Brittany, Stephen went after her.
Or at least he tried. It took a good half-minute to convince the pig to stop eating his boot and trot toward the building.
“What the devil are you doing now?” Stephen said, tugging at the pig to make her keep up. “I insist that you and your friends go home at once.”
She kept walking. “Go home? You can’t tell me what to do. You go home.”
