He jiggled his knee and bit down on his inner cheek to squelch further interrogation. One second she lit his heart on fire with feelings he hadn’t had for years—the next she fired up the rage he felt whenever he encountered a woman willing to marry for money alone and possibly make her husband miserable for the rest of his days. Did these women not realize he could see what they were after? Even sweet Georgia Renfroe had set her cap on him because he had money rather than because she had a real interest in him.
He couldn’t love either one of them. No matter how much he wanted to forge ahead with his feelings for Lydia, loving a woman who’d choose a man for his bank account was one mistake he’d never repeat.
Silence reigned for the rest of the trip. When Parker stopped inside the carriage house, Nicholas opened the door and stood back so the girl wouldn’t have to get near him to exit. He beckoned for them to follow him to the basement’s service entrance, and the two women flitted across the sandstone path behind him, a rustle of skirts and nervous breathing. The one deep-set window near the door of the maids’ quarters was thankfully still alight. After he knocked, he could hear scuffling and hushed women’s voices.
“Who’s there?”
“Nicholas Lowe and Lydia King.”
The curtain in the side window moved, indicating one of them checked to make certain. The bolts on the door slid open, and Josephine peeked out. She looked at all three of them twice, then turned her suspicious gaze back on the girl whose painted face was quite unsettling in the lamplight. “Come in.”
They shuffled inside, and if he wasn’t already uncomfortable entering their living quarters at night, seeing Josephine in her nightgown with her hair down made things worse. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to a fully clothed Lydia, pretty despite her wrinkled gown.
But she was hugging the girl against her, and Sadie’s clothing certainly didn’t cover enough of her skin to keep a man’s glance from turning toward unholy thoughts.
So he chose to look at the unadorned table in the corner. “Lydia’s taken this girl from . . . ?”
“Um, maybe I shouldn’t say.” Lydia’s voice trembled. “I couldn’t leave Sadie where I found her, and when I mentioned she could go to school if she came with me, she chose to leave willingly.”
He looked at Josephine and Effie, who’d just joined them, and could tell they were thinking the same thing. Lydia’s promise was empty. Sadie wouldn’t be able to go to school, not in Teaville, anyway.
“I didn’t kidnap her like Mr. Parker said. You can’t kidnap an orphan, can you?” Her unsteady voice sounded too loud in the cement-walled room. He forced himself not to shush her. He looked to the women, his eyes pleading with them to say something, take over. Right now, he wasn’t sure being in the room with Sadie and the others was a good idea.
Effie sidestepped Josephine and held out her arms to Sadie. “Why don’t you come choose one of my nightgowns and then take a warm bath? There’s a beautiful copper tub in the laundry room, and I have some pretty-smelling bath salts.”
The young lady looked to Lydia, and when she smiled encouragingly, Sadie followed Effie through the bolted door that led to the corridor and into the service area of the basement.
Lydia pressed her palms together against her chest and turned to Josephine. “Thank you so much. I know that . . . that what she is can’t be easy for you to accept . . .”
“Lydia . . .” Nicholas shook his head slightly.
“. . . and I hope you’ll not treat her poorly because of what she is. She’s so young she can’t—”
“Lydia,” he said sharper this time.
She blinked at him, confused.
He turned toward Josephine, whose expression bespoke suspicion. After the first prostitute’s suicide and the second’s return to The Line, he and Caroline had decided to let any future maids believe Caroline was sneaking them in under his nose. That way they’d believe he was ignorant of their former employment. If they returned to their former life, they’d have no informational power over him, and they’d not share with every out-of-luck girl that he had a soft spot that could be taken advantage of.
But it seemed like that season of his life was over. He sighed and met Josephine’s wary gaze. “I left Caroline at Queenie’s house with her sister.”
Josephine blinked again, her face growing more certain.
“Yes.” He blew out a breath. “I know everything.”
She nodded and glanced at Lydia.
“She doesn’t, but I think she should.”
Josephine let her hands slide off her hips. “Well, it’s not time to talk about it now. It’s late.”
“Seems like no one wants to talk about anything right now, when I sure wish someone would tell me what’s going on.” Lydia’s voice shook with frustration.
He couldn’t keep his secrets from her any longer, no matter the consequences. “I’ll tell you what you need to know on the drive home.”
“I want you to tell me everything. I thought you already had told me everything.”
Would his keeping this a secret for so long make it less believable? He’d practiced what he’d say to Henri whenever he toyed with coming clean to him, and it had always sounded ridiculous. Maybe it was. But what good would come from keeping it from her any longer? “Yes, I’ll tell you all.”
32
Nicholas gripped the doorknob, ready to leave the maids’ quarters and breathe in the frosty night air. The thought of telling Lydia everything was making his heart and lungs seize. If she didn’t take things well . . .
Josephine pressed a hand to Lydia’s arm. “I won’t blame you if you don’t want to come back to see Sadie after Mr. Lowe talks with you.”
Lydia frowned. “I’ll want to see Sadie again, no matter what he says.”
Josephine’s smile was sad and cynical.
Nicholas nodded at Josephine before she shut the door. He’d have to talk to her too. She’d be the most effective in helping Sadie adjust. Of all the maids who’d sought sanctuary under his roof, Josephine seemed the most level-headed.
Parker walked up the path, hat in his hands. “What are we going to do? Did the maids take her?”
“Yes.” Nicholas trailed a hand through his hair. For three years he’d kept his secret, and in one night his carefully constructed walls were about to tumble. He’d considered telling Henri for the last several weeks, but he’d had no peace about it. After tonight, he could see why.
But Parker? His driver often clucked his tongue at him for venturing into the town’s sporting section but had never refused to drive him there.
He’d never considered telling his driver he harbored ex-prostitutes, since he was more an employee than a friend, but he wanted to tell Lydia everything . . . or nothing at all. What if she didn’t believe he had good intentions for the women under his roof? What if she assumed exactly what he feared people would assume?
He strode away, heading for the carriage. “Let’s get Miss King home, before we damage her reputation. It’s late, and her parents are probably worried.”
Parker punched his smashed hat back open and followed. “Arriving home late isn’t worse than kidnapping a child. And I aided her.”
“Kidnapping?”
They both turned to find Lydia grabbing at her throat, her eyes wide. “Stop saying that. That’s not what I did.”
Parker’s face was as grim as a rock. “That’s what they’d call it.”
Nicholas held out a hand to stop Parker from scaring Lydia any further. “Who knows you took the girl?”
“You, Mr. Parker, and . . .” Her voice stuttered, and she swayed.
He reached out to steady her. “Go on.”
“Some servant from The California. I’d guess she was the cook. She came out before we left, but I don’t know her name, and she doesn’t know mine.”
“And Henri was with me when Parker came flying by.” Nicholas shook her shoulder to make her look at him. “Think. Is there anyone else who might have se
en you?”
She shook her head and grabbed a fistful of his sleeve. “Even if I did kidnap her, you can’t let her go back. They can’t force someone so young to work like that.”
Parker hung his head, and Nicholas’s mouth went dry. “I’m afraid the laws in that regard are easily dodged. But no, they shouldn’t. Grown women shouldn’t be forced either for that matter. According to the laws, none of them should be there at all.”
Lydia looked on the verge of crying, so he grabbed both of her shoulders and rubbed as Mr. Parker rushed back to the carriage. “We’ll do the best we can. If no one makes a ruckus about her disappearance, then there may be hope. But she won’t be able to stay here forever.”
“Do you think the maids will treat her unkindly?”
“No. I’m worried about her staying for the same reasons any prostitute who wants to reform can’t stay where she’s known.”
“Because of us.” Lydia’s voice was so full of self-reprobation his heart hurt.
He chucked up her chin and smiled. A real, genuine, from-his-heart smile. “No, not us. You and me, we’re the germ of hope. One day society will not condemn a man or woman for a past choice and instead discern and judge the heart.” He pulled her hand into the crook of his arm. “Come, we can’t tarry. We don’t want to worry your parents so much they question why you’re out late.”
They’d only just settled into the coach, Parker thankfully driving with more care now, when Lydia scooted forward on her seat. “What did you mean when you told your maid you were going to tell me everything? Is it what I’ve done to Sadie? Have I made things worse for her?”
He stopped Lydia’s hands from strangling her skirt and held them loosely. “If she’s not caught, her life will be infinitely better—I hope.”
“What if someone turns me in?”
“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes against the thought of Lydia arrested and tried, though surely that wouldn’t happen. If Lydia’s escapade came to light, he’d expect the madam to get off with a slap to the wrist and, after the attention waned, covertly given back her “property.” “If Sadie’s caught and returned to whoever dares claim her . . . Well, we won’t let that happen, not only for her sake but ours.”
“Please don’t tell me you think I was wrong.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “I’ve always said I’ll follow God’s law before man’s, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t called to hardship for it.”
“But surely the law, Sebastian could—”
“I don’t know if Sebastian could do much.” He wanted to tell her that if anyone circumvented the law, her intended was likely one of them. But he couldn’t be sure what Sebastian Little would do in the case of such a young girl. “The labor laws passed this year say no one under sixteen can be employed in a dangerous or immoral vocation. But unless officials work hard to stop it, parents or guardians either get around the law by manipulating the wording or paying the fine. Even if we passed stricter laws, I doubt they’d stop sending their children to work. And the city benefits from the fines from the red-light district. They aren’t too keen on losing the revenue.”
“That’s disgusting!” Lydia pulled her hands from his. “It’s not like she’s working in a coal mine or a factory or even a dance hall.”
Did she realize what dancers often did? “No, she’s working in an industry people avoid—at least the good people. Without you, she probably had no hope. She may still have no hope.”
“Without God’s help anyway. Right?”
“Right.” He struggled to swallow against the despair that sometimes took over when he didn’t see God’s mercy on display and he couldn’t fathom why.
Lydia scooted back in her seat and curled up into the corner like a child. He reached for her, but she was too far away to touch without moving to her side of the coach. Should he break decorum to comfort her?
Did he not refuse to follow society’s dictates every day?
However, he gripped his seat and stayed. Sometimes society’s dictates were for a very good reason.
“Was that all you were going to tell me, that I didn’t really help Sadie?” Her emotionless voice was worse than if tears had clogged it.
“Of course you helped Sadie, but no, I thought I’d go ahead and confess all the terrible sins I’ve committed since I’m now in the presence of a bona fide kidnapper.”
Even without seeing her, he could tell her glare was scorching.
Wrong time for teasing. “Sorry. I just . . .” He sighed and clasped his hands. “I’m afraid you’ll think poorly of me once you know. Most people likely won’t believe what I’m about to say, but you . . . I don’t want your estimation of me to sink back to that first day I refused to buy those sewing machines.”
“Thank you again for those.” Her soft, admiring voice made it even harder for him to stay put.
“Um, yes.” He placed a cool hand on his blazing-hot neck, glad for the darkness of the coach. He’d only realized the day she’d seen him with Miss Renfroe why he’d caved and bought those sewing machines for her and why he’d worried they wouldn’t arrive on time. It was his first attempt to show her he loved her—but she’d never know that. “You’re welcome.” The words choked, but thankfully she wouldn’t notice how uncomfortably he sat in the dark.
He’d convinced himself to never become smitten with another woman, and yet here he’d fallen for one he couldn’t pursue.
“So what have you done that’s so terrible? I already know you’re involved in the seedy side of town, but I also know why. And you’ve already told me about your wife.”
“Do you know why I’m certain my maids will be the best people to care for Sadie?”
“No.”
“I know I keep asking for secrecy, but I need you to keep this confidential—and this time it’s not just for my benefit. It affects the lives of others more than me.”
“Can I trust you to keep my crime of kidnapping quiet?”
He smiled at the slight lilt in her voice. “Yes.”
“Then why wouldn’t I agree to keep another of your myriad secrets?”
Good. “What it boils down to is that I live in a bachelor’s mansion with a handful of women of ill repute.”
“Hmm, your maids?” She didn’t sound flabbergasted.
“Yes. Except Caroline. I met her in a saloon pleading with her sister to leave, but Moira insisted she liked the work, even though she downs more liquor than the men around her. Caroline and I decided to work together to help the ones who did want to leave.”
“And how is that a sin?”
“If I’d told you months ago that I had a house full of former prostitutes trying to reform themselves, would you have believed me?”
“Probably not.”
“You might think I’m crazy to believe they can change, but I’m more afraid you’ll doubt my honorable intentions. As I’m sure others would if they knew who my maids were.”
Her hand bumped his knee, and he grabbed for it. She didn’t pull away but rather squeezed. “I believe you, Nicholas.”
She believed him.
He swallowed a few times, trying to reply, but couldn’t. Not that he had words to say.
The carriage stopped, and he scooted forward. The moonlight lit the right side of her face, and if he squinted, she seemed to be looking at him in the same manner he was looking at her.
“I—”
He silenced her with a finger to her mouth. Her warm, soft lips against his skin drew him forward.
The door opened and Mr. Parker ducked his head inside. “We’re here.”
To cover for their nearness, he kept moving forward but slipped out the door with her hand still in his.
Lydia started to rise, but then hesitated. “What about the children? Where might they be? Mr. Parker searched The California but didn’t catch a glimpse of them.”
Mr. Parker nodded as Nicholas tugged her outside and said, “I was out looking for them too, and will continue, but you ne
ed to get inside. We’ll stay parked awhile, in case you need us to assure your parents we’re the ones who brought you home.”
“All right.” She stepped down but didn’t immediately remove her hand from his. She stared up at him for a second, then dropped his hand and shot off down the sidewalk.
Parker hoisted himself back into his seat. “If I’d headed home before she found me, we’d not be in this mess.”
Nicholas watched Lydia disappear into her house.
Though it might’ve been easier on everybody if Lydia hadn’t taken Sadie, at least he knew her heart had changed toward the people he felt most compelled to help. . . . Too bad that was as much of her heart as he would get to know.
33
After a full day of work at the library and a slight headache from the newly painted walls, Lydia hurried home, the frosty air clearing her head but hastening her toward the warmth of home.
Cinnamon and sage spilled out of her home’s front door, the smells still lingering after the Thanksgiving baking she’d done yesterday. She had a lot to be thankful for: her mother lived, and Mr. Parker had informed her this morning that Nicholas’s contacts in the red-light district had heard nothing about a lady kidnapping a child prostitute.
Nicholas figured Madam Careless knew the odds were stacked against her winning the child back—if she’d ever found out what actually happened. Maybe the cook had kept her secret. But what if the madam was only biding time, finding a way around the law and planning revenge?
Please, Lord, wash the details from the mind of that cook so she can’t pinpoint me, Mr. Parker, or Nicholas. Let it be your will that Sadie be saved from such an awful life. Let it be my Christmas wish.
She rubbed her hands vigorously, then pulled off her gloves and hung her coat in the closet. A shuffling in the kitchen and a clink caught her attention. “Papa, are you home?”
“Lydia?” The silky masculine tenor made the hair on her neck prickle.
Oh, why hadn’t she kept quiet? Then she could’ve slipped out the door once she’d realized Sebastian was there. Though she had to face him sometime. Was he irritated or worried that she hadn’t attended his mother’s Thanksgiving luncheon yesterday? But telling him why wouldn’t help matters at all.
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