Joan Wolf by A Double Deception

course I remember you, Evans,” Mark said quietly, looking at the upturned face. “How are you these days?”
    The man at his side was thin and haggard and desperate-looking. “Not well, sir. That’s my wife and child over there.” He nodded to a woman huddled on the curb holding a baby. “We’ve just been evicted from our rooms. I’ve no money, sir. Nowhere to go.”
    Mark was dismounting before he had finished speaking. “How long have you been out of work?” he asked tersely.
    “Four months, sir. I haven’t been able to get anything steady. Not since I was paid off two years ago.”
    Mark was signaling to a hackney. “You can come home with me for the night, Evans,” he said, opening the door. “We’ll see what we can do for you in the morning.” He took the thin arm of Mrs. Evans in his hand and helped her into the cab. “Cheney House, Berkeley Square,” he said to the driver, and closed the door on the couple’s incoherent thank-yous.
    He mounted his horse again and walked him over to where Laura was waiting for him. “I’m afraid I’ve just saddled you with some uninvited guests,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, but it couldn’t be helped.”
    “There is nothing to be sorry about,” she returned. “Those poor people! Whatever would have happened to them if you hadn’t come along?”
    He looked very bleak. “It is nothing unusual, Laura. It happens all the time. There are simply no jobs for all the demobilized soldiers and sailors who have been thrown on the economy since the war. Too many men who fought for their country are ending up like Evans: homeless, jobless, destitute. In some ways, the peace is worse than the war.”
    They trotted briskly through the quickly darkening streets and arrived at Cheney House almost simultaneously with the hackney. Laura took one look at the thin, pale, frightened face of Mrs. Evans and put an arm around her comfortingly. With calm efficiency she issued orders to the servants, and in an hour’s time Mr. and Mrs. Evans and baby were fed and tucked up in a warm room with a roaring fire and a big comfortable bed.
    Then Laura and Mark changed clothes and had their own dinner. It was ten o’clock by the time they finished and Laura rose to leave him to his wine. “I’ll await you in the drawing room,” she said as she stood facing him over the candlelit table.
    He had stood up when she did, and now he smiled and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t want any more wine.” He started coming around the table toward her. “Poor Laura,” he said. “What a wedding day! First a sick child and then an indigent family to feed and put to bed.”
    “It has certainly been unusual,” she said a little breathlessly.
    He was very close to her now and there was a smile in his eyes. “It’s time we put ourselves to bed, I think.”
    In the light of the candelabrum he looked very handsome, and as she looked up at him, very big. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I suppose we should.” And she walked beside him up the stairs to their bedrooms.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Laura’s maid was brushing out her hair when the connecting door between their bedrooms opened and Mark came in wearing a silk dressing gown. After a quick glance at him, Laura remained perfectly still, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She wore a lacy white negligee that was cut low enough to show off the creamy silkiness of her shoulders.
     “Shall I plait it, my lady?” the maid asked.
     “No,” said Mark. “Leave it as it is.” The maid put the brush down, leaving Laura’s hair falling dark and shining down her back.
    “Will that be all, my lady?”
    “Yes,” said Laura. “That will be all, Potter.”
     As the door closed behind the maid, Mark came across the room. She did not hear his feet on the thick carpeting and started a little when he appeared behind her in the mirror. She was sitting on a quilted silk stool and he rested his hands on the nape of her neck, his