by Robyn DeHart
Caroline had to give him credit—when he wanted to, Roe knew how to be a complete charmer.
The woman wiped her hands on her apron and smiled broadly. “Yes, Your Grace, I would be honored to show you and your—” She leveled a gaze at Caroline and then smiled. “Ah, Miss Jellico, I nearly didn’t recognize you.”
Mrs. Hancock walked them forward. “Here on this floor we have the dining hall and some classrooms where the girls learn the basics of service. Most of them will go onto become scullery maids with a few that will make it all the way to lady’s maids.”
She’d been fortunate, Caroline realized with crushing clarity. Had her brother not made Roe her ward before he’d died, she would have ended up in a place such as this one. She looked at him as he surveyed the rooms around them. Her heart swelled and she tried to swallow it. Desiring him was one thing, but she could not afford to get her heart involved. Roe was not a hero, he’d told her as much.
“I should like to see their sleeping chambers,” Roe said. “I was told that new bedding was purchased not too long ago.”
Mrs. Hancock’s brow furrowed in confusion and then she quickly nodded. “If that is what Mr. Lamb told you, then it is certainly true. I am merely the housekeeper.” She walked off and headed toward the stairs. “The sleeping quarters are up here, Your Grace.”
They followed her up the stairs, which creaked and moaned under their ascent. The rail was missing on the opposite side of the staircase, and a few of the steps had holes in the wood. Upstairs, they found a handful of rooms, the floors covered in mattresses and thread-worn blankets. The mattresses themselves were thin and barely stuffed and couldn’t have provided much comfort or warmth for the girls. Just then five girls shuttled into the room, full of giggles, and came to an abrupt and quiet stop. Their smiles disappeared and their hollow eyes widened. They were all desperately thin, but they seemed clean and clothed, though they wore no shoes and their stockings had an abundance of holes.
“Mrs. Hancock, begging your pardon ma’am, we didn’t know you had visitors.” It was Gretchen, the girl Caroline had met when she’d visited the other day. Of course she’d come around when Mrs. Hancock hadn’t been there so she wasn’t too keen on the girl announcing they’d already met. Gretchen was a pretty thing with reddish brown hair and large green eyes. Freckles covered her cheeks and nose, and she kept a protective hand on two of the other girls—Fiona, who was obviously the middle sister and then a younger one. They all shared the same green eyes.
“It’s not a problem, children,” Caroline said. “We came to see the arrangements.” She picked that word carefully. Being poor was not fun, but it was less so when people pointed it out to you. “Is this your bedchamber?”
The smallest girl smiled and stepped forward despite her older sister’s attempt to keep her back. “It is. My bed is over there.” She pointed her small hand to the shabby mattress beneath the armoire. “My name is Beatrice.”
Caroline held her hand out and shook the tiny girl’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Beatrice. My name is Caroline. And this is the Duke of Chanceworth.”
Beatrice’s eyes grew even rounder. “A duke? That’s pretty close to a prince.” She smiled up at Roe.
Roe laughed. “I am not even close to being a prince.”
“That’s quite enough, girls. There’s no need to bother our guests,” Mrs. Hancock said.
“It’s not a bother,” Caroline said. The best way to learn about the conditions around here was to ask the children. But she knew that wouldn’t happen while Mrs. Hancock was around.
“Shall we see the rest?” Mrs. Hancock offered.
“I believe we’ve seen enough,” Roe said. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Hancock. Girls.” He grinned at the children. Two of the girls giggled and looked down at the floor.
Beatrice smiled. “Nice to meet you too, your royal highness.”
“Beatrice, please,” Gretchen said. She managed to grab her sister and then ushered the rest of them out of the room.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Caroline had barely finished her breakfast when Grimm informed her Mr. Bishop was waiting for her in the front parlor. She made her way over to the room and found him standing by the window. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Bishop?”
“I have come to see if you would join me riding in the park. It is a lovely day and I should think riding with you would make it all the brighter.”
Caroline felt heat creep into her cheeks. “That is very kind, Mr. Bishop, but it’s quite unnecessary.”
“Miss Jellico, don’t be ridiculous. I should think you are well-deserving a ride in the park. The sunshine will do you good.” Mr. Bishop smiled broadly.
She had the sneaking suspicion that he would not be deterred this morning. So she resolved herself to go on a quick ride with him, then she could return so she and Roe could come up with a final plan for catching Mr. Lamb.
“I would love to ride with you, thank you for thinking of me. If you would but give me a few minutes to prepare myself. I shall be down shortly.” Caroline left for her bedroom to change.
Riding, indeed. People would no doubt believe he was courting her. She suspected he still thought that based on their last conversation about the matter. Who would think Caroline would have an official outing with a gentleman? Mr. Bishop was pleasant enough, and initially she had been interested in developing a friendship with him to persuade him to donate monies to Dover House. But with the finances there in question, she wasn’t about to ask anyone else to donate.
Gracious, that would be dreadful. Caroline sighed heavily and crammed a bonnet onto her head, tucking the curls at her ears into the sides. And before she knew it, she sat across from Mr. Bishop in his Landau, listening to the crunch of the horse’s hoofs against the rocky path. They passed other carriages and riders, most of whom nodded to Mr. Bishop. A few spoke, and a few others stared blatantly at them.
Mr. Bishop talked the entire time they rode through the part. The man seemed quite enamored with the sound of his own voice. Finally he called for the carriage to stop by a pond and jumped down. He came around to retrieve her.
“I thought we could walk here and watch the ducks,” he said.
It seemed harmless enough so she agreed. She knew she should probably tell him about the goings on at the Dover Street Girls’ Asylum, but she didn’t want to frighten him away. Still, the thought of having to endure other such encounters simply to secure him as a benefactor made her want to give up straight away. Walk back home, well back to Roe’s townhome, that is.
They walked quietly all the way to the pond’s edge.
“I find you most delightful,” he said. “And I believe we are what you English refer to as a smart match.”
Caroline frowned, then shook her head.
“I’ve somehow gotten that wrong, I see,” he said.
The entire notion was wrong. There was nothing smart about them together. They didn’t belong together. “We have only known one another for a couple of weeks, Mr. Bishop. You do not even know me.”
“I suppose you know what I’m attempting to say there.” He ignored her protests. “I should think my affections for you are quite obvious. You are a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bishop, but I don’t—”
He held his hand up to stop her from continuing. “Allow me to finish.”
He most assuredly was enamored of his own voice. She fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“I came to London to find myself a wife,” he said. “And I know I have found the perfect choice in you, Miss Jellico. You are lovely and sweet, and so poised. So very poised.”
She was beginning to feel like a horse, the way he spoke of her.
“You are the perfect Englishwoman,” he said. “And I believe you’ll make the perfect wife to an American man.” He reached over and took her hand and brought it to his lips.
“Mr. Bishop, you truly are too kind, but I cannot marry you.”
“If you’re concerned about Lord Chanceworth, you need not be. I have already spoken to him about these matters.”
Caroline’s heart stopped beating, the blood in her veins stopped pumping, and the air around her disappeared. “Roe gave you permission?” She reached over and rested her hand on the large oak tree at the edge of the pond. Roe had so callously given her away to this American fool? Betrayal stabbed through her.
She took several minutes to gather her wits about her, despite Mr. Bishop’s constant chatter. The perfect Englishwoman! If this idiot only knew of all of the times she donned a pair of trousers and sneaked into a man’s gaming hell, then he’d certainly see that she was nowhere near being the perfect Englishwoman. She looked up quickly and his features came into focus.
“Mr. Bishop, before we are to wed, I believe there are a few things about me that you must know.”
He smiled, quiet for once.
“I have a penchant for gambling.” Might as well make her card playing sound as nefarious as she could manage. “I’m not satisfied with the games ladies play so I taught myself Vingt-et-un and I’m quite good.”
“A little healthy competition never hurt anyone,” he said.
“I’m so relieved to hear you say that. Not all men would be so forward thinking, allowing their wives to don a disguise, dress as a man and sneak into gaming hells to play. But you, you Mr. Bishop, are an American and obviously at the forefront of modern thinkers. I should be honored to be your wife,” she said, and nearly choked on the words. “Now tell me, what sort of gaming hells do they have in America?”
He held his hand up, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Are you suggesting that you have disguised yourself as a boy and gone into gambling houses and played? Dressed as a man?”
“Oh yes, many times.” She smiled and winked at him. “The disguise must be quite good because no one has ever realized the truth of the matter.”
“Is this something all Englishwomen do? I thought you were a creature of high upstanding moral character.”
“Heaven’s no, I would be quite shamed if people discovered my activities. But you with your forward thinking and contemporary attitude…”
He shook his head. “No, no, no. I am not forward thinking. I came here to England to find a wife who wouldn’t talk back to me. Not like all the mouthy girls back in America who speak every opinion that lands in their brain. I thought if I came here and found a nice Englishwoman and brought her home, then New York Society would have to accept me. And I’d know I had the best wife of them all because she would do as I say and be so pretty on my arm.”
The man was utterly deluded. Certainly the sort of woman he spoke of didn’t exist. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it wasn’t true. If he wanted a woman like that, he could assuredly find one here in London.
“I cannot marry you, Miss Jellico, you are simply not the woman I thought you were.”
Caroline’s plans didn’t always go accordingly, but this one had worked perfectly. She schooled her features to attempt to appear disappointed. “Yes, well that is certainly understandable. Now if you don’t mind, I should prefer to return home.”
Mr. Bishop didn’t say a word the entire ride back to Roe’s townhome.
…
Roe sat in his study looking at The Times. He couldn’t say he was actually reading it, but it did lay open faced on his desk and his eyes were trained on the words. But nothing really translated from the newspaper to his mind. His thoughts were elsewhere. He had only played at Rodale’s once this week, but more alarming still was the fact that he didn’t actually miss it. Cards had been the very center of his social calendar for many years, and yet he’d found himself otherwise engaged as of late.
The butler stepped inside the study after a brief scratch at the door. “Your Grace, there is a Mr. Nigel Lamb here to see you. Shall I tell him you are busy?” Grimm’s eyes glanced at the desk, then back up at Roe. “You do appear quite preoccupied.”
“No, send him in. I should like to hear what the man has to say.” More than likely the man came for more funds. Or perhaps Mrs. Hancock had told Mr. Lamb of Roe and Caroline’s visit yesterday and he’d come to explain himself.
Roe doubted that though. Whatever Nigel Lamb’s scheme was, Roe would wager the man wasn’t too eager to give it up. Mr. Lamb had been pilfering money from Dover House for quite some time. Roe had had his solicitor look into other vendors associated with the orphanage and had discovered more discrepancies. But the man had been careful because nothing Roe had found offered any conclusive proof to wrong management of the funds.
A moment later, the man in question was introduced into Roe’s study. Roe didn’t bother standing; he motioned to the seats in front of his desk.
“Mr. Lamb, to what do I owe this visit?”
Nigel stepped forward and bowed. “Your Grace, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” He scurried over to the seat and perched himself atop one, clutching his parcel to him. He reminded Roe of a very small and nervous mouse, one caught in a cat’s path, perhaps. “I was told you and Miss Jellico stopped by the orphanage yesterday. Is there something you needed?” Roe could swear the man’s nose actually twitched.
“We came by to tour the grounds. Since I am to become more active with my board position, I want to see what my money is funding.”
“Yes, yes, very good. Perhaps we can schedule such a tour for you then,” Mr. Lamb said.
Evidently Mrs. Hancock had mentioned their visit, but hadn’t detailed that she’d already shown them much of the orphanage herself.
“It is those funds you speak of that brings me to your door today.”
Nigel shifted in his seat and looked around the room. “Lovely home here, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.” The attempt at flattery was laughable. This room had been decorated when Roe had taken the title and he hadn’t bothered to look around much since then. It seemed a great waste of time in his mind. When something needed replaced, he’d purchase a new one, but other than that, he had no real interest in upholstery and wall coverings. “Funds for what, Mr. Lamb?”
“Right, well it would seem we have a few of the girls who are sickly and are in need of medical attention. Doctors are quite expensive, as you can imagine. Also, we should like to open a new wing and doing so would require a hefty sum to purchase furnishings and clothing for the girls.”
“You are expanding?” That had not been mentioned at the board meeting, which seemed a grave oversight.
“We were contacted by another orphanage over in Liverpool that has to close its doors. There are girls who will end up on the streets if we cannot take them in,” Nigel said.
“It is quite a worrisome situation.”
“Indeed.” Roe knew he could probably unsettle the man enough to garner a confession, but it wouldn’t prevent him from doing it again. If they could prove he was embezzling funds, though, he would be arrested. So Roe would bide his time until they had had discovered precisely what Lamb was up to. “And why was this expansion not brought before the board?”
“We only just received notice about it two days ago. I intend to visit the other board members as well.” He sniffed, clutched his bag closer to him.
How very convenient for him to have received such a request. Roe would most assuredly have to investigate this other orphanage in Liverpool.
“Those poor girls, I can only imagine how terrified they must be, thinking they will be turned out onto the streets,” Nigel said.
“Yes, well, we can’t have that now can we?”
Nigel Lamb smiled and sat straighter in his chair. “Oh I knew I could count on you, My Grace. You are most generous.”
“The first thing you need to do is write up the proposal for how much all of those areas of improvement will cost and I shall meet with my solicitor and have the funds made available.”
“All of them?” he asked, eyes wide.
“I have more than enough. And I can
always win more if I need it.” Then Roe paused. “Do you play?”
Nigel blanched. “I beg your pardon?”
“Cards? I’m quite gifted, you see. I could likely earn what you need in a night, no more than two.”
“I’ve never been much of a player,” Nigel said with a shake of his head.
According to Caroline that was a true statement. Mr. Lamb enjoyed gambling, but he was not a skilled player.
“Very well, Mr. Lamb,” Roe said coming to his feet. “You prepare the proposals and I shall get your monies. Now if you will excuse me, I have many other things to attend to this afternoon.”
“Yes, Your Grace, of course you do. I shall work on those proposals straight away. Thank you.” He clutched his bag and skittered out of the room.
Yes, it was most definitely a mouse that Nigel Lamb reminded Roe of, a scrawny twitchy rodent.
…
Caroline burst into Roe’s study ready to tell him precisely how angry she was that he had given that idiot American permission to marry her. But as she threw the door open, she found the room empty. She entered nonetheless and made her way over to his desk and sat. Everything was orderly. The books he had out sat like little soldiers all in a row to her right, whereas the parchment he had was neatly in a pile on her left. Chances were whatever information he’d gathered about Mr. Lamb would be on that paper. She pulled the stack to her and thumbed through it. But instead of finding notes on Mr. Lamb’s financial activities, she found pages and pages of handwritten notes regarding Roe’s search for Constantine’s Shield. She knew very little about the antiquity other than that had been the reason Roe and Christopher had taken that fated trip to Persia.
The notes covered everything from the research to where the artifact might be found, to what he planned to do with it once he found it. Cabot was mentioned, too. Roe had obviously done extensive research on the man and had selected him carefully because of his many successful excursions in the area in question.
