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    His Redemption: The Albion: 1892
    His Redemption: The Albion: 1892
    His Redemption: The Albion: 1892
    Ebook138 pages2 hours

    His Redemption: The Albion: 1892

    By Natalie-Nicole Bates

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    About this ebook

    With a baby on the way, it should have been the best Christmas ever for Evie Stanton. Instead, she finds herself a widow, and alone in a strange town. Luck seems to shine on Evie when she meets police officer Marty Burke. Marty is everything her late husband was not – kind, caring, and loyal. Marty offers to marry her and give her and her baby a home.


    It's almost too perfect until Evie hears rumors about Marty's past. 


    She finds it impossible to reconcile the handsome, wonderful man she knows, with the dark and dangerous man she is told about.


    For Evie, her choice becomes one of uncertainty. Marry a man with a questionable reputation, or find herself homeless with a new baby.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPerfectly Poisoned Press
    Release dateSep 13, 2023
    ISBN9798223375500
    His Redemption: The Albion: 1892
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    Author

    Natalie-Nicole Bates

    Natalie-Nicole Bates é escritora e revisora. Suas paixões na vida incluem livros e Hóquei juntamente com fotografias sobras as eras eduardianas e vitorianas. Natalie atribui seu amor incaracterístico pelo hóquei por ter nascido na Rússia. Ela mora atualmente no Reino Unido onde vem trabalhando em seu próximo livro e adicionando fotos póstumas do século XIX à sua coleção. Visite Natalie-Nicole em www.natalienicolebates.com

    Read more from Natalie Nicole Bates

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      Book preview

      His Redemption - Natalie-Nicole Bates

      1

      I t is so cold, and she stands there alone, hour after hour waiting for someone who never arrives.

      Marty Burke used his hand to swipe at the condensation that had gathered on the window of Jonathan Amir's tobacconist shop. Almost immediately, the warmth of the room waged war with the frigid, late November air outside, and the window clouded again. He took one more swipe and peered outside before the window clouded once more. He didn't like to be held up by ridiculous situations such as this. Then again, it was heavenly warm inside the shop, and the fragrant tobacco aroma hanging in the air was intoxicating.

      A young woman stood outside the shop, near the corner of Carlyle Street. Dressed warmly, and her hands covered with gloves, she did not appear to be in distress of any sort.

      After all, when had it become a crime to stand alone on a street corner?

      Marty shrugged his shoulders beneath the heavy coat he wore over his sharp, black policeman's uniform. What do you want me to do, Amir? She doesn't appear afflicted in any way, and she is not trespassing. Perhaps this is how she chooses to spend her days. The Christmas season is fast approaching. Maybe she is waiting for a loved one to arrive by coach from the train station. With this frigid weather, surely delays abound.

      Jonathan stalked from behind the counter and stood beside Marty near the window.

      Maybe I have more compassion in my little finger, than you have in your entire body, Burke. I also have a heart.

      Marty was jolted by Jonathan's accusation. Where in the hell did he get off telling him he lacked compassion or hint he did not have a heart? He was an officer of the law. A protector of the citizens on his beat.

      Jonathan was merely a man who fell into a comfortable family business. I do not get your meaning, Amir.

      Jonathan let out an exasperated sigh.

      What is it, that you don't get? She is a woman alone, who for the past three days has stood on that corner in frigid conditions. I have tried to coax her inside for a cup of tea to get the cold from her bones, but she is very skittish, like a lost kitten. And… Jonathan paused.

      And what? Marty took another swipe at the cloudy window.

      I believe she is with child. There is a very large bump beneath the coat. She should be home, resting in a warm bed. Not on her feet. With conditions outside, she and the child are in danger. She appears very pale and fragile.

      Again, I ask you, Amir, what do you want me to do?

      Speak to her. You are a police officer, are you not? You are supposed to care about the welfare of the citizens. You are paid by my tax dollars.

      Fine. I will speak with her to appease you, tax-paying citizen of Carlyle Street.

      As Marty walked from the establishment, the first thing he noticed was the bite in the air. He huddled deep into his coat, which was so very heavy that sometimes it felt like it dragged his shoulders down. Today, the cold still penetrated. Perhaps Jonathan was right. This woman should not be outdoors for so many hours a day. He would at the least get her story. That should satisfy Jonathan. He had to admit though, when Jonathan mentioned the woman was with child, it got to him just a bit. He desperately wanted to be a father by now. Instead, he was a childless widower, doomed to spend this Christmas, and every Christmas in the foreseeable future, sitting alone in the corner at one of his sisters' homes.

      God, he was going to die a lonely old man.

      He walked to where she stood, but she did not seem to even notice him as he stood within a few feet of her. Her eyes were trained on the street and didn't deviate, even when he took a step closer to her. Maybe Jonathan Amir was right. The woman was lost, even the look on her pale face was one of hopelessness.

      Excuse me, Miss, he began.

      Instantly, she startled and turned to him. A tired, weariness registered on her face. Yes? Am I doing something wrong? she asked.

      He lifted a gloved hand. Of course not, Miss, but there is concern about you from one of the shopkeepers. He says you have been outside in this cold for several days. Is there a problem I can help you with?

      She looked back at the tobacconist, and then to Marty. I am very sorry if I upset the shopkeeper. Truly that was not my intention.

      No, no he is not upset in the slightest, Miss. He is concerned for your well being, that is all.

      She looked to the ground, and then a sudden gust of wind nearly took her over. Marty reached out at the last second and steadied her shoulders. Miss, where are you staying?

      The Albion Hotel for now, she replied.

      The Albion. A place that did not evoke fond memories for Marty. No, too much happened within those walls, and with the people who occupied the premises. Until the last year, people had disliked him, but he was never hated before. Poor decisions he made during a time of uncertainty and grief caused the loss of friends. Yet now was not the time to dwell on the past.

      Let us go inside The Albion and have a cup of tea and something to eat, shall we? You can tell me all about who you are waiting for, and in my capacity as a police officer, I will offer you any assistance I can provide. In truth, he wanted to get her into the warmth and off her feet. He would sacrifice his comfort by going into the hotel. Likely, there were people within The Albion waiting for the opportunity to poison his tea.

      I could not impose, she said softly. I will move on if it makes the shopkeeper happy.

      At that moment, Marty could see she was not only weary but unwell. Please, Miss, just a cup of tea, and get off your feet for a while to refresh your spirit. If not for yourself, please appease me so I know I have done all I can for you.

      She nodded. Yes, thank you. It is so cold outside, and my feet hurt very much.

      At once, concern flooded him. He offered his arm, which she accepted, and he slowly marched with her to the entrance of The Albion. A pot of tea, and perhaps a few bites of something savory, in the warmth of the hotel restaurant would help. Hopefully, she would relax enough to tell her story.

      The doorman held open the door, and he allowed the woman to step ahead of him. Warmth in the hotel lobby flooded over him. Walking the beat for so many hours, for so many winters, cold weather did not particularly bother Marty, but the warmth was nice. He retook her arm and led her to the hotel restaurant. A young woman in a hotel uniform showed them to a table.

      Marty helped the woman from her coat. Jonathan was correct. The woman was definitely with child, and from the looks of her large round belly protruding forward, it would not be long before the child made its appearance. She removed her gloves, and Marty spotted the thin gold wedding band on her marriage finger.

      He held the chair, and she carefully sat. He then proceeded to remove his coat, hat, and gloves and snapped his fingers to catch the attention of the waitress. A pot of tea, please.

      He took a seat across from the woman. She looked pale. So lost and forlorn.

      May I ask your name?

      Evie Stanton, she answered without hesitation.

      What a lovely name, he smiled. My name is Martin Burke. You can call me Marty if you like.

      She nodded. You may call me Evie.

      Marty lifted a menu and passed it across the table to Evie.

      I really could not eat right now, she said in a tiny voice.

      He looked directly into her large brown eyes. Please, it is my treat. They have a very good smothered pork chop and mashed potatoes, and their roast beef and gravy are nice as well.

      He could see her hesitation and silently wondered if she had not been eating well of late. Or perhaps her health was failing from spending so much time in the adverse elements, while so heavy with child.

      Evie, do you know when your baby is due to arrive? It was highly improper to ask a such question, especially of a woman with who he was not acquainted, but he was a police officer after all. Sometimes uncomfortable situations came with the job.

      Her hand rested on her round belly. The midwife told me she believes my baby will be born around Christmas day.

      A bit more than four weeks. She certainly needed to be home in bed resting, not standing in the cold, day after day. Still, he found himself saying, A Christmas baby, how wonderful! You and your husband are truly blessed.

      She averted her eyes at the mention of her husband, and a strange, sixth sense crept up Marty's spine, alerting him that all was not right.

      Will your husband be joining you at The Albion?

      Before she could answer, the waitress brought a pot of tea, two cups, and saucers, cream, and sugar. Carefully, she poured the tea into each cup. Would you care to order now?

      Evie stared down at the white tablecloth, her complexion growing paler by the second.

      Give us a few minutes, please, Marty answered.

      When the waitress was out of earshot, he slid his hand across the table and touched the top of her hand to regain her attention. Again, not an appropriate action, but now, Marty could care less about what was deemed appropriate behavior, and what was not.

      What is wrong, Evie? Let me help you if I can. He strove to speak gently.

      When she looked up at him, her eyes were large and liquid, as if tears were going to fall very soon.

      Marty grabbed for a spoon and dug it into the little sugar bowl, and dropped three lumps of sugar into a teacup, followed by a generous slug of cream. Quickly, he mixed it and placed the cup in

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