reason.”
“I’ve had enough of your sentimentality.” Geoffrey shook his head then marched to the door. “Good day.”
“Good day,” Captain Hazard called after him.
Regan sighed as Geoffrey’s footsteps retreated down the hallway. The intricate patterns of the blue and white rug beneath her feet stared up at her. Silence filled the room and Regan tensed under Hazard’s watchful gaze. “My family is not. . . Pleasant.”
“Most families aren’t.”
Regan lifted her chin and turned to him. In the cool morning light, he should have looked tame. His tailored dark coat fit his frame in good lines, but it merely served as a container for the raw energy just beneath the captain’s surface.
“You sound as if you speak from personal experience,” she observed.
He cocked an eyebrow at her and strode over to the fire, spreading his long fingers towards its warmth. “Happy families are a myth. A myth that is spread so that people will marry and preserve the human race.”
Regan blinked. Not certain if he had truly just uttered those words. “That is a very cynical point of view.”
Rubbing his fingers together, he stared into the flames. “Name me three happy families in London. Truly happy families. Happy like you read of in books.”
Regan pressed her fingers over the folds of her perfectly smooth skirts. “Well, I—“
She stopped. And she struggled to think of a happy ton family. Sadly, she could not.
He straightened, his eyes tired and knowing. “There. You have your answer. If there were so many happy families, you would not have to pause to think of one.”
Letting out a long sigh, Regan strode towards the door. “My father and I were very happy.”
Silent, Captain Hazard leaned his shoulder against the tall mantel.
Did Captain Hazard believe her? She wished him to. Because that was the only true happiness she had, knowing that she and her father had shared such a wonderful relationship.
“This afternoon, I intend to go to Whitechapel,” she finally said.
“Then you will go. But first we will need to find you a pistol small enough to fit in your reticule.”
Arm herself? Regan strode towards the door then grabbed at the frame and shook her head. “With you at my side, that is hardly necessary.”
“It’s bleedin’ necessary,” he growled, the rough tones of an East End accent marring his perfect speech.
She had been dreading this moment. “I do not approve of weapons. I am a pacifist.”
“A pacifist?”
“Yes. Someone who—“
His laughter rolled through the room, shaking his shoulders. Captain Hazard coughed then laughed again. “I know what a damned pacifist is, Lady Regan,” he scoffed, the mirth fading from his eyes. His mouth hardened. “I just find it amusing that someone of your. . . lineage should have such scruples. ”
Regan squeezed the door frame, the edge biting into her fingers. He’d spit the last word out like an insult. And it struck like a solid blow.
The recent Chance fortune lay largely in munitions that had been made during wars with Napoleon and the Americas. “My lineage is something I must live with every day. There is no need to point out the obvious.”
“No. I suppose not.” He tapped his fingers on the marble mantel. “Your family made money off of my stock and trade. How odd that you now require my assistance.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Oh, we always have a choice.”
“I will be ready to leave within an hour.”
“As you wish.”
Regan turned on her heel and hurried down the hall. Captain Hazard’s dark past haunted him. It was hard, and hot, and his gentlemanly manner could barely hide the anger inside him. She could feel it touching her, leading her down a path she had never known. . . A path of darkness.
Chapter 10
“Isn’t it beautiful?” breathed Lady Regan as she pointed the feral of her umbrella at the building.
Jack eyed the half-finished, four-story, sprawling structure that covered a good two blocks
“I’ve had enough of your sentimentality.” Geoffrey shook his head then marched to the door. “Good day.”
“Good day,” Captain Hazard called after him.
Regan sighed as Geoffrey’s footsteps retreated down the hallway. The intricate patterns of the blue and white rug beneath her feet stared up at her. Silence filled the room and Regan tensed under Hazard’s watchful gaze. “My family is not. . . Pleasant.”
“Most families aren’t.”
Regan lifted her chin and turned to him. In the cool morning light, he should have looked tame. His tailored dark coat fit his frame in good lines, but it merely served as a container for the raw energy just beneath the captain’s surface.
“You sound as if you speak from personal experience,” she observed.
He cocked an eyebrow at her and strode over to the fire, spreading his long fingers towards its warmth. “Happy families are a myth. A myth that is spread so that people will marry and preserve the human race.”
Regan blinked. Not certain if he had truly just uttered those words. “That is a very cynical point of view.”
Rubbing his fingers together, he stared into the flames. “Name me three happy families in London. Truly happy families. Happy like you read of in books.”
Regan pressed her fingers over the folds of her perfectly smooth skirts. “Well, I—“
She stopped. And she struggled to think of a happy ton family. Sadly, she could not.
He straightened, his eyes tired and knowing. “There. You have your answer. If there were so many happy families, you would not have to pause to think of one.”
Letting out a long sigh, Regan strode towards the door. “My father and I were very happy.”
Silent, Captain Hazard leaned his shoulder against the tall mantel.
Did Captain Hazard believe her? She wished him to. Because that was the only true happiness she had, knowing that she and her father had shared such a wonderful relationship.
“This afternoon, I intend to go to Whitechapel,” she finally said.
“Then you will go. But first we will need to find you a pistol small enough to fit in your reticule.”
Arm herself? Regan strode towards the door then grabbed at the frame and shook her head. “With you at my side, that is hardly necessary.”
“It’s bleedin’ necessary,” he growled, the rough tones of an East End accent marring his perfect speech.
She had been dreading this moment. “I do not approve of weapons. I am a pacifist.”
“A pacifist?”
“Yes. Someone who—“
His laughter rolled through the room, shaking his shoulders. Captain Hazard coughed then laughed again. “I know what a damned pacifist is, Lady Regan,” he scoffed, the mirth fading from his eyes. His mouth hardened. “I just find it amusing that someone of your. . . lineage should have such scruples. ”
Regan squeezed the door frame, the edge biting into her fingers. He’d spit the last word out like an insult. And it struck like a solid blow.
The recent Chance fortune lay largely in munitions that had been made during wars with Napoleon and the Americas. “My lineage is something I must live with every day. There is no need to point out the obvious.”
“No. I suppose not.” He tapped his fingers on the marble mantel. “Your family made money off of my stock and trade. How odd that you now require my assistance.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Oh, we always have a choice.”
“I will be ready to leave within an hour.”
“As you wish.”
Regan turned on her heel and hurried down the hall. Captain Hazard’s dark past haunted him. It was hard, and hot, and his gentlemanly manner could barely hide the anger inside him. She could feel it touching her, leading her down a path she had never known. . . A path of darkness.
Chapter 10
“Isn’t it beautiful?” breathed Lady Regan as she pointed the feral of her umbrella at the building.
Jack eyed the half-finished, four-story, sprawling structure that covered a good two blocks
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