A.N Hello! This is my first Ripper Street fic, I'm a huge fan obviously and i love Bennet Drake's character. My friend requested a romantic fic featuring him so I'm doing my best to oblige so I thought I'd put it up here too. It's Bennet/OFC and though I will try my best this may be a little fluffy at times (giving warning in case that's not your thing), also the rating will increase later in the story though not for several chapters. If you can please review, I will love you forever! Right, okay, thank you. Here we go!

Prologue

The fog had settled on the streets of London, hanging around unwanted and blurring everything the eye wanted to see. All around people scurried with hurried caution, wrapping their coats and scarves tighter about them in the chill of the wind. Everything seemed bleak and haunting when it was like this, the faces of folk were miserable and danger promised itself on every corner. Bennet Drake wasn't frightened of what hid itself in the fog, if anything he almost anticipated mischief or accident. Last year he'd seen a woman crushed under the wheels of a carriage as she hastily crossed the road, it was the last mistake she had ever made. For others he knew the fog meant the promise of money, pick pocketing and mugging were much easier to do under the cover of fog. He listened out among the chatter for cries of dismay but he heard none.

He turned off a main street and cut through side streets so he could reach his own lodgings quicker, he knew his area of London like the back of his hand, he would be no victim of mischief or accident. His feet ached in his shoes and he longed to get them off and stretch out his limbs, it had been a busy day his reddened knuckles betrayed that. But thanks to Reid they had closed another case and now he could return home. Reid was lucky, he had Mrs Reid and a fine home, a humble home but comfortable and with companionship. His means were modest and so were his lodgings, he cared about their lacking and yet he didn't, he had no one to be embarrassed for. Indeed the last time he had seen Rose she offered him another sweet smile but it was too late, that possibility had ended long ago. What a fool he'd been imagining a bonny, young prostitute would wish to be rescued by him only to become tied to a home.

Still the day was to be thankful for, he wasn't abroad doing barbaric deeds with tortured men, it was making a difference, even if it meant still getting his hands dirty. He trusted Reid, he trusted no one else. As he walked he felt the fog starting to thin a little though in its place a steady, sometimes blustery wind picked up. Drake was aware that a woman walked several metres in front of him, making steady progress carrying what appeared to be a heavy load. His longing to be at home meant he should make attempts to overtake her now for if she took the same turn as he then he would be stuck behind her for several minutes. Increasing his stride he soon closed the distance between them and when his firm tread sounded in her ears she turned her head.

"Oh excuse me!" She uttered and stepped sideways; lifting the basket above her head to allow him room to pass. This blocked her from his view but he tipped his hat and thanked her anyway, soon continuing on his way. The wind however was not going to allow him to be home just yet and mischievously it blew so fiercely that his hat was dislodged from his head and flew back the way he had come. He shook his head and turning on his heel he started back, trying to imagine if he had the patience to look for long. Upon nearing his hat which had collected some dirt and could not be worn he noticed the woman he had passed was now stooped on the floor picking up things that the wind had displaced from her basket. Having done him a good turn by allowing him to pass just moments earlier he decided the gentlemanly thing to do was offer assistance. Indeed he realised he would have done so had she not already been courteous to him.

Coming upon her he noticed the scattered objects were pieces of laundry and as she scrambled to get one or two back in the basket, the winds invisible, grasping fingers seemed determined to take some others away. Tucking his hat under his arm Bennet grabbed several escaped pieces of linen and handed them to the woman. But the wind roared on and at last he suggested.

"Have you anything heavy to place on the top?"

The lady shook her head, the window causing rogue tendrils of hair to blow over her face. Bennet looked about him and then realised he had something that would be of use. Taking out his baton he explained.

"Put this on the top."

The woman looked up at him, brushing the straggles of hair from her face and tucking them behind her ear. A pair of large eyes scanned him a moment, they did not narrow with suspicion but she was obviously eyeing up whether he was any sort of threat. Bennet knew immediately what she was thinking and he said.

"I'm a policeman."

With Bennet's help she folded the escaped and now soiled linen as best she could then placed the baton on top. She moved to pick up the basket but he stopped her, seizing the handles himself. It was a heavy load, he was impressed with her strength, any struggle she was having he had put down to the weather.

The lady led him along a few streets and upon reaching a row of low, sparse looking houses she turned to him.

"I live just here. Thank you for your help." She said with a little shyness, her eyes looked at his face but not directly in his eye. Bennet looked at her, she was not a young girl, he would put her in her late twenties or so for her face was fully formed and had the bloom of womanhood, yet no signs of careworn age.

"May I help you inside with these?" He asked trying to smile, feeling a little awkward himself. "If I take my baton now we might start this all over again."

For a moment she looked doubtful and he thought she would shake her head, but something in his appearance caught her eye. He looked down and noticed his trousers were muddied, particularly around the knees. The lady looked embarrassed.

"Forgive me you've sullied your clothes."

"It doesn't matter." He shrugged. "You've caught a bit on your dress too."

She looked down and inside he kicked himself for pointing that out. Her dress was a simple cut, dark grey and a practical material. It clinched in on her small waist and trailed along the floor. Looking back up she gave him another look over, again assessing whether he was trustworthy but the wind was still battering and at last she said.

"Come inside, I will have a brush to get that mud off." Her voice was like rich velvet, but she betrayed no evidence of the east end in it. Nevertheless she was not what some would say well spoken, but she was not from round here it was obvious. Taking out her keys she moved to open the door but turned to him. "Please don't mind my sister."

Taking up the basket again he followed her inside a low, narrow hall which bore stains of old damp patches that had since dried out. The place smelt clean, he could distinctly smell soap. He heard a call from the back and soon he found himself led to the kitchen. A fire crackled in the stove and two large copper pots boiled water over it. Seated at a worn, chipped table was a girl much younger than the lady he assisted; she could not be much past adolescence from his quick view of her.

"If you would be so kind as to put the basket on the table." The younger woman got up and went to whisper to her elder sister who in turn approached Bennet. "I'm sorry I did not get your name?"

"My name is Drake, Sergeant Drake. I work over in Whitechapel." He explained.

"Have you come to arrest us?" The younger girl asked looking mortified, clutching her hand round her sister's wrist.

"I'm afraid so, I found your sister here throwing washing around in the street. That's ten years hard labour I'm afraid!" He joked nervously but inside he felt even more awkward. The younger woman took this in a moment then realising he was jesting broke out into giggles and returned to the table. Her elder sister now handed him a clothes brush bearing a small smile of her own.

"I'm very grateful to you Sergeant."

"The wind was out for stealin' clothes it would seem, Miss…?"

"Oh forgive me. My name is Adelaide Preston and this is my sister Letty."

"I'm very pleased to make your acquaintances." He replied taking the time to brush the mud from his trousers, he was pleased it came away fairly easily. Besides it stopped his eyes from looking at her for a few moments for now without the wind he had proper opportunity to see how she was quite lovely to look at. She had large, oval eyes of a piercing deep blue and her cheek bones jutted proudly and smoothed down the curve of her face to a perfectly pronounced chin. She was not perfect to look at, she was rather pale and her cheeks bore no colour but it was of no matter, there was plenty there to be struck by instantaneously.

"This is all the washing we did last night, Ada!" Letty exclaimed as she rifled through the soiled linen.

"I know, the wind had other plans." Adelaide replied forlornly.

"It tried to steal my hat!" Bennet interjected which received him another charming smile from Letty, who like her sister held a pair of large, oval eyes only hers were chestnut brown. Their shared features were most definitely their chin and deep brown hair and though she was not quite as pretty as her sister, Letty had that added prettiness of youth.

"Must we wash it all again?"

"Not all, only some."

Bennet now finished with the brush just stood there feeling awkward with it resting in his hand. As he met those large, oval eyes framed with thick jet lashes he held it out like a man entranced.

"Well I best make my way home."

"I cannot thank you enough." She said. "There must be some way I can repay you?"

"I was just happy to be passing." He replied. "Good by Miss Preston."

"She's a Mrs!" Letty exclaimed. "I'm not I'm Miss Mays."

"Hush Letty, honestly!" Adelaide exclaimed. "Do forgive her, she chatters on something fierce."

"Well… thank you for the brush. I look a little more respectable now."

"Your wife will not be cross with you!" Letty butted in.

"Letty!"

Adelaide's face flushed with embarrassment and Bennet could not help but like the colour. He retrieved his baton and she led him to the door, thanking him once again. As Bennet stepped out he had a thought and he quickly turned on his heel to look at her.

"I wonder…"

"Yes?"

"Do you take other's laundry in?"

"Yes." Adelaide explained. "Several on this street."

"Would it be possible… I mean… could I engage your services… I do not have room to do mine as often as I'd like… your… facilities look… very good."

"I'd be happy to, I collect on a Thursday at three and a Monday at the same time, would that be agreeable?"

Bennet remembered his own lodgings and though her own were humble too they were not as stark and plain as his own. He couldn't have her be seen coming to his house anyway, even for linen.

"I will bring it here, it is still a little walk and I've felt the weight of your basket now." He said cheerfully, trying not to smile to much nor look as terrified as he felt taking such a rash step.

"That is very kind of you. On Thursday then?"

"Thursday."

As Bennet Drake walked back to his unassuming lodgings he forget all about the ache in his feet and arms, he forgot all about the damned fog and the wind. He merely looked forward to Thursday when he might get a quick glimpse of a kind face and a few words over a small bundle of washing.