Lady of Sin (9 page)

“Theft is no laughing matter,” Charlotte scolded.

“No, ma’m, you be right there.” The first girl’s eyes narrowed on Charlotte’s fine mantle and parasol. “My mum always said the same thing, ’fore she died. Better to starve than be a thief, she said. So she starved.”

There was no good response to that. Nathaniel came to her rescue. “Whose boxes are these?” He gestured to the stores.

“Old John’s,” a girl said. Her insolent tone implied she thought Nathaniel was too stupid to be borne.

“John is gone. The whole neighborhood knows that. Why would the boxes remain unstolen? The door was not even locked.”

“A few been took, at night,” the smallest boy said. “We let ’em, right, Harry? But they was Old John’s, and now they are ours and
you
can’t have them.”

Nathaniel locked Harry in his gaze. “Did John work alone, with no more than children as his gang?”

Harry did not reply.

“Down below there are goods that are not English, just as this wine is French. He had partners beyond the city, didn’t he? Smugglers on the coast.”

“All I know is there’s men who’ll be comin’, like they do every month,” Harry said. “I expect they’ll be paying right good for our watching the boxes.”

“No, boy, they will not. If you know those men’s faces, you best be gone when they come. It is why the others left.” Nathaniel walked over to him and spoke man-to-man. “It was good of you to stay so the young ones would have protection. But you can stay no longer, nor can they.”

CHAPTER
SEVEN

T
he orphanges that we prefer to use are full,” Mrs. Peddigrew said. “The others are places that make the streets where you found the children a preferable home.”

“Returning them to the streets is obviously not a choice,” Charlotte said. London was full of children such as these. One could not save them all, but once one came face-to-face with any, there was no alternative but to try one’s best for them. However, this little gang could not await the attention of the charitable organizations through which she normally tried her best.

Mrs. Peddigrew was the wife of a merchant of middling means who devoted herself to helping poor orphans. Charlotte had met her through Fleur, Dante’s wife. Seeking her advice had seemed the logical solution to the sudden responsibility for the children.

Now their five ragged charges were being fed in the kitchen of this modest house near St. Paul’s, while the adults decided their fate in the small but pleasant sitting room.

Mrs. Peddigrew poked at the fuel in her fireplace, her thick body bending to her chore. Her cap’s ribbons joined some loose brown curls dangling along her plump, rosy cheeks. “There are a few schools that would take them, of course.”

Charlotte heard the unspoken implications. The schools would cost money. The children required a benefactor.

“I will pay the fees for the schools,” Nathaniel said.

“We will both contribute,” Charlotte said.

“Perhaps you will consider buying them new clothes, too, my lady,” Mrs. Peddigrew said. “It is hard for the new ones to show up at a school looking so poor. The other children tease them, even if they were no better themselves a few months ago.”

“I will see to it tomorrow.”

“If you arrange the funds, we will take care of it, if you wish. We know where to buy sturdy used garments.”

Mrs. Peddigrew put down the poker and settled comfortably on her stool. Her head bobbed back and forth while she thought out the rest of the plan.

“The girls can go to Mrs. Dudley’s school in Middlesex. It is in the country and the air will do them good. Looking wan, they both are. The young boys will be accepted by Mr. Longhorn in Southwark. He is full but he always manages to make room for more, good soul that he is. Now, the oldest one . . .” She pondered Harry’s fate, and her soft face folded into worried creases.

Nathaniel frowned. “Could he not also go to Mr. Longhorn?”

“Mr. Longhorn prefers the young ones. The older boys are trouble, and it is just him and his wife. It is very hard to find a good place for a youth over eight, Mr. Knightridge. He could always be given as an apprentice or helper, of course, but . . .”

She did not have to finish. Everyone knew the dangers for impoverished boys sold into such service. The animals that pulled carts often received better care.

“Then he can go to a proper school for boys his age. There are many in town, and most take boarders,” Nathaniel said.

“I doubt he has the necessary education for that, Mr. Knightridge.”

Mrs. Peddigrew looked apologetic. Silence hung while they considered Harry’s future.

“There is one possible solution,” Charlotte said. “Mrs. Peddigrew, as you know, my sister-in-law, Fleur Duclairc, is establishing a school for boys up north in Durham. While the structure is built, the headmaster has taken a few students into his house already. I will ask Fleur to recommend that Harry be allowed to go there.”

Nathaniel looked relieved at the solution. Mrs. Peddigrew smiled her approval.

“I was hoping you would suggest that,” she said. “It was not my place to do so. Now, until that can be arranged, we need a place for young Harry to stay. All the children sleep together here, and with his age, and that of the girls, well . . .”

Another silence hung, this time with the female eyes fixed on the one male in the room.

Nathaniel nodded with resignation. “I will take him home with me until matters are arranged.”

“You are too good, Mr. Knightridge,” Charlotte said.

“The Lord will reward you, sir,” Mrs. Peddigrew said.

Nathaniel smiled weakly.

“Did you think that you could save lost boys and bear no cost or inconvenience to yourself?” Charlotte asked.

Nathaniel stood outside her carriage, demanding that she get out too. He was refusing to close the door, and had been so bold as to order the coachman to come back in an hour.

Fifteen paces away, a motionless Harry stood amidst the jostling crowd passing on Piccadilly Street. He gazed into the gated front courtyard of Albany. With his thick dark hair and ill-fitting old garments, he looked like a young gypsy among the Saxons.

“I am not shirking my duty. I am saying you and I are in this together and you will not shirk yours,” Nathaniel replied. “Furthermore, accusing me of seeking to bear no cost is both inaccurate and unkind. I said I would pay the fees for the schools before you did.”

He offered his hand, in a commanding gesture.

The idea of entering his apartment again dismayed her. “Goodness, he merely needs shelter for a day or so. Settling him into your home does not require an army.”

“I remind you that it is a bachelor’s home. Nor do I have any experience with children of any age. That is why I require that you come inside and speak with Jacobs.”

“Mr. Knightridge, one of the remarkable benefits of being a widow is that no man can
ever
require
anything
of me again.”

He glanced toward Harry, then adopted a careful, appeasing expression. “I misspoke. I do not require it, because I have no right to. I request that you join us and help arrange things. I implore you to do so.” He glanced at Harry again.
“Please.”

Nathaniel Knightridge imploring? Begging?

She rather liked that.

“Do you promise to behave as a gentleman?”

That earned her a devilish half smile. “If that is what you desire today, Lady M.”

She did not miss the various entendres in his reply. She considered calling for her coachman to drive away, and the door be damned.

Just then Harry turned. The youth looked terrified at being expected to enter the imposing building. Albany had been a royal duke’s mansion before being converted to bachelor apartments at the beginning of the century.

The boy’s distress touched her. Nathaniel’s interest in him posed dangers to her world, but that was not poor Harry’s fault. He was just a frightened child cast adrift in the world.

She held out her hand and Nathaniel helped her step from the carriage. “I do not understand why you need a woman’s help. He requires a bath and clean clothes. How hard is that to explain to Jacobs?”

“If you are with us, perhaps Jacobs will not walk out, never to return.”

She accepted his escort through the gate flanked by two fine shops. Harry shuffled alongside, trying to shrink to invisibility. They crossed the courtyard and aimed toward the main entrance.

“Ah, so you fear a revolt by your manservant and hope my presence will force him to accept the situation. How interesting. You present yourself as master of all you survey, but now I learn that you do not even command your very small household.”

“Being master of a servant is an easy victory. It is hardly worth my effort. Now, being master of a woman of independent nature and outspoken opinion—that is a challenge worthy of a man’s time. I am thinking I will seek out just such a female and see if I am up to it.”

“I am sure a man of your importance has more significant wars to fight.”

“I do not anticipate a war. I foresee only a few brief skirmishes, if that. The woman I have in mind is easily disarmed with a few silly kisses.”

A servant opened the door to reveal the expensive furnishings of the reception hall. Harry got one glimpse of the interior and dug in his heels.

Nathaniel placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “We will only walk through. My apartment is behind this building and much more modest-looking. Stand tall, boy. A man’s worth is seen in his demeanor and carriage, not his clothing.”

That was not entirely true, of course. As they passed through the ground floor of Albany, a few eyebrows rose at the boy with them. They emerged out the other side, at the walk that separated the attached blocks of garden apartments.

The less ostentatious buildings that had been constructed in the estate’s gardens reassured Harry. He examined the Chinese pitch of the roof that covered the walk providing access to flanking rows of three-storied buildings. He gawked at the Asian lanterns hanging above their heads.

“Harry, have you heard of the poet Byron?” Charlotte asked. “He once lived at Albany. So have some famous leaders, like Palmerston and Canning.”

“I heard of Byron,” he said. His brow furrowed as if he dug for memories of when and how. “Never heard of t’others, though.”

“Have you read Byron?” Nathaniel asked. His attention focused on the boy’s face.

“Nah. My mum read long poems to me when I was little, though. Byron sometimes, I think.”

“Do you know how to read yourself, Harry?” Charlotte asked.

“
Course
. Well . . . some.”

Nathaniel stopped them all on the walk outside the door that led to his apartment. Charlotte tried to quell her discomfort at entering the sitting room where she had lost control in an extraordinary manner. One knowing glance from Nathaniel and she feared she would blush and stammer like a schoolgirl.

Fortunately, Nathaniel’s attention remained on Harry.

“Before we go in, I want to explain what is going to happen,” Nathaniel said. “My man’s name is Jacobs. He will see that you get washed and will find some clean clothes for you. You will stay here until Lady Mardenford arranges for you to go to a school in Durham. You will be treated well here, and later there. However, I will brook no trouble from you. I want your word of honor that you will behave properly.”

Harry grinned as if Nathaniel was the town’s biggest fool.

“M’word of honor, eh?”

“Yes.”

Harry chuckled. “It’s yours, then, for what it’s worth.”

“You should treat it like it is worth your life, boy. It is the only thing of true value that you own.”

“Of course, sir. I will prepare a bath at once.” Jacobs’s nose quivered just enough to punctuate his statement in a way his deferential tone avoided. Displeasure flexed the soft skin of his cherubic face.

“Also, he needs clean garments,” Charlotte added. She had been the one to request the bath be prepared. “He cannot remain in these while he stays here.”

“Stays
here
?”

Charlotte recognized the signs of discontent. If she were not present, Jacobs would be ever-so-politely indicating to Nathaniel how these requests were an imposition.

Like all experienced servants with long histories of good references, Jacobs probably had a clear sense of his own entitlements. Those rights, in proper English fashion, relied upon long tradition and precedents. Being asked to care for a youth who was not even a relative exceeded his understanding of his duties.

“I have some old ones that will do, if they must,” he said very flatly. “We could put a cot in the kitchen, I
suppose
.”

She gave Jacobs a thankful smile. “You are very good to accommodate me. Tomorrow Mrs. Peddigrew will send over garments bought for Harry, so your old ones will not be needed more than this evening. I know this is an extraordinary situation, and I am very grateful that you are willing to help me.”

Jacobs softened. His lips folded into the smallest smile. He cast a skeptical but resigned glance at Harry, who was eyeing a silver snuffbox set near the table clock.

“Go with Jacobs now,” Nathaniel said. “Harry has given his word that there will be no trouble, Jacobs. Haven’t you, Harry?”

Harry shrugged agreement. Jacobs beckoned. Servant and boy left, giving each other looks that said neither thought the relationship promising.

“Thank you,” Nathaniel said.

“I am delighted that I could oblige you.” She lifted her parasol. “I will return home and write to Fleur at Laclere Park. I am sure she will send the reference, so you should anticipate taking Harry north two days hence.”

“You cannot leave yet.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“If you leave, you will be standing in Piccadilly Street for half an hour,” he explained. “Remember? Your coach left and will call for you.”

Standing on the street would be more comfortable than staying here. Being alone in this room with Nathaniel unnerved her.

“Giving that order was presumptuous of you.”

“One word from you and the coach would have stayed.” He gestured to the fireplace. “Please, sit. I would like to speak with you of Harry’s future.”

She refused his offer to take her mantle. Bundled and on guard, her parasol at the ready, she perched on the cane-backed settee near the fire.

He took his place in the green chair. They faced each other just as they had the last time she was there. Only a lot had changed since that afternoon. He did not examine her with annoyance this time. His dark gaze carried other thoughts. He projected a power designed to create a frightening excitement in her.