As he approached the steps of the house with packages in his arms, the door opened, and Nora came out onto the flags beneath the portico.
“I wondered where you had gone. Woods assured me you would return,” she said with a nervous laugh.
“I hope you do not mind. A drive about Town could prove relaxing and would give us time to talk uninterrupted,” Colin offered.
Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “What a wonderful idea.”
The sound of hurried footsteps announced another’s approach from behind her, and Nora stepped aside just as Mrs. Simpkins appeared, holding a small basket.
“My lord, here are the items you requested on your missive.” Sporting a giant smile, the housekeeper pushed the covered basket into his hands.
“Thank you, Mrs. Simpkins. I appreciate this. I left too early this morning to have all of my thoughts properly collected, I fear.” He chuckled. “These are for you.” He pushed a small, wrapped package into her hands and closed her fingers about it.
The older woman swiped at her eyes. “That is so thoughtful, my lord,” she enthused, fondling the small package. “’Tis a long time since a man gave me a gift!” She giggled.
“I cannot imagine you being overlooked,” he said, beaming. “I hope you enjoy the gift. There should be enough sweets and marzipan in this larger package for everyone, especially the children.” He passed a second parcel to her.
“Oh, the children will love this!” Mrs. Simpkins’ excited tone brought a smile to Nora’s face.
“Capital!” Colin had held back a small package, containing marzipan and the nonpareils, for their drive. “That is what I had hoped.” He tipped his head and held out his arm. Nora placed her hand lightly on his arm, and he guided her to the carriage, helping her inside. After securing the basket underneath the seat, he sat down next to Nora. They were engaged, after all. It was their pending marriage that they needed to discuss, and he wanted as much as possible for the discussion to be in his favor.
The coachman gave his horses the office and the carriage rumbled forward at the steady pace suitable for negotiating the London traffic. Colin suddenly felt his throat go dry. While it would be rude to drink lemonade at this moment, he was glad he had asked Mrs. Simpkins to prepare a flask of the drink. He might surely need it—soon. Despite their obvious attraction to each other, his conversations with Nora were awkward. He replayed his proposal several times in his head. He felt no regret for their betrothal. She was unlike any other woman he had known. She challenged him to see things from a fresh perspective—her perspective. And he delighted in finding out new things about Nora—and made it his mission to learn everything about her. His head filled with curious thoughts—concerns for children he had never considered existed. He had known of the base-born children littering London’s streets, of course. His father had repeatedly schooled him on the cruelty and irresponsibility of spreading his seed in such a manner. Father had brooked no indifference, having no patience for that sort of thing, and had even fought in Parliament to force more attention on the matter.
Sadly, Father had been in the minority. Society knew, but ignored, that the children fulfilled a need, working where small hands and bodies were de rigueur, and Colin had himself grown comfortable with that knowledge. However, there were faces now attached to these outrages. He could no longer ignore them. He also had the means to help.
“Did you enjoy the children’s lesson in drawing?” Nora’s voice interrupted his musings.
“I must confess, I learned much about these children I had never given thought to before.” Colin pictured Benjamin cleaning a chimney and swallowed past the small lump that had formed in his already dry throat. “It was… revealing,” he managed.
“I noticed you had struck up a friendliness with Benjamin. A woman left him on the front steps a few weeks ago, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a note. An unsigned note, curiously. The child has no family, as far as we are aware. He claims to be eight, but I doubt he knows. Benjamin seems small for his age. However, he communicates rather well.” She folded her hands in her lap. “He is enjoyable to be with and makes me think,” she said. “I suspect it is his gift.” She paused. “We all have one, according to my grandmother. Benjamin tells me things and I want to laugh at his presentation of those events, yet at the same time, what he says nearly brings me to tears. Does that make sense to you?” she asked, her gaze holding his.
“He indeed possesses a gift; and what you say makes a great deal of sense. His drawing created a painful reminder of the abuse these children have faced. He climbed into chimneys,” he began.
“I had not realized he had been a sweep’s apprentice until some days after he arrived. He has a cough,” she added, her face drawn. “I am concerned, although there are plenty of negligible reasons for a persistent cough.”
“I heard it, too. It could be nothing more than a cold. However, I think it warrants a visit from a doctor. I wonder if you would object to a friend of mine—Dr. Perth—visiting? He moved his practice to London about two years ago from Kent.”
“I have heard of Dr. Perth. My grandmother recommends him. She describes his manner as straightforward and comforting.” Nora’s face colored, and she turned away slightly.
Colin ignored her discomfort, not knowing what he could say to change it. Perth would have found the description amusing.
“Good. It is settled, then. I shall have him come to see all the children—unless, of course, you have already done this?” He regarded her, suddenly unsure of where he was heading with this train of thought. Her bright, chocolate brown eyes seemed to smile on their own as she took in the surrounding scenery. Gerard had driven them beyond Mayfair towards Kensington Gardens, an older section of Hyde Park. He had earlier asked his coachman to take a long route through the park, feeling the need to gain clarity with this woman. The more time he had, the better.
“Becca’s drawing upset me,” Nora interjected. “I could see it troubled you too. Could the man, Mr. Sneed, have been Sneed, do you think?”
“I noticed that. Her picture resembled the description that Aunt Gemma had given of him, and the man that Mrs. Simpkins told us of. “I plan to put a Runner on it. I have already sent word and intend to meet with the man who is in charge of one of the patrols. I am concerned about the dealings, if he was the one, that he might have had with Becca’s aunt.” The woman turned up dead. What was his involvement with Becca? “Her drawing concerned me.” He considered his next words. “I will meet with a Runner later today, as I mentioned. I initially planned to have him locate your uncle, but now I feel Sneed needs be found.” He had wondered whether to mention that Sneed could be very dangerous and seemed to be a common thread with several of the children, but concluded they could defer the subject for now. There were other, more important matters to discuss. Until he knew more, he saw little advantage to worrying her.
“His involvement in so many children’s lives concerns me,” Nora murmured, almost reading his thoughts.
“Yes, that was in my mind, too. There are men whose financial existence depends on the backs of children—who they consider disposable.” His instinct told him there could be much more to these men. He decided to speak with Morray as soon as possible.
Colin found he was enjoying this time with Nora. They were already joining in concern for the children, something that he would never have envisioned.
“I have a favorite spot here and thought we might go there today.” he ventured, seeking a lighter note.
She smiled. “That sounds perfect. I had hoped we might discuss our… betrothal.”
Chapter 15
It pleased Nora that Colin had taken the trouble to select a pleasant spot for their outing, even if it was to discuss the facets of their arrangement, although she could not help but worry what the particulars would be.
As a child, she had indulged her fancy over a love match when she married. Yet she had agreed to this arrangement and would see it to the end, re
solving to make the best of it. Lord Shefford’s interest in the children astonished her—she had not expected that he would truly be interested when he asked to take part. He had been earnest in his request. He had asked nothing mundane and seemed truly concerned about the children’s well-being, particularly with respect to Benjamin, who seemed to have gained special favor with the Earl.
“Gerard will set us down and take the carriage and horses to wait beyond those trees. There is not enough room for him to draw up here,” the Earl said, stirring Nora from her musings.
“I have never picnicked by a brook before.” Nora spoke before she realized her intention. There had not been many opportunities to attend frivolous functions, far less enjoy a picnic. She had worked in the family’s mercantile whenever her parents needed her. The store had sold all sorts of sundries, including fabrics, notions, and other household items. Since her grandfather’s death, her father had struggled to keep the family business afloat. He recently moved his law office to the top floor of the mercantile, and his clients had not seemed to mind. Mother had once commented on the number of new clients found once he moved his office to the mercantile. When she was young, she wondered why Grandmama or Grandpapa had not intervened and helped. As she grew older, she realized pride was a powerful antagonist.
“I find that hard to believe,” he answered. “My governess introduced me to picnics as a small child. She would trick me into thinking it was playtime and so I would learn French or Italian while eating the fruits and cheeses she brought along.”
Nora liked the way his smile filled his face and his eyes sparkled when he spoke of things that made him happy.
“Did you bring cheese?” she asked. His smile was contagious.
“I did, as well as lemonade and wine. I believe Mrs. Simpkins has packed everything.”
“Both lemonade and wine?” She laughed. “Not only does she like you, she would do anything for those gifts of sweets.”
The groom opened the door. “My lord. I have placed the blanket and the basket on the ground near the water. Please let me know if there is anything else you require.” He bowed, pivoted, and went to the front of the carriage, where the driver sat.
“I shall return in a moment,” Colin said as he alighted from the carriage.
Two minutes later, the door opened again, and Colin waited, his hand held out for her. Nora accepted his hand and stepped from the conveyance. Once they had walked away from the carriage, she heard it pull away.
“That is lovely!” She stared in wonder at the display before her. A large blue cloth covered the ground between two trees. On the top rested an open basket and two stout pillows—one resting against each of the trees.
“Allow me.” Colin guided her to the blanket and gave her time to sit down. She tucked her legs underneath her skirt and smoothed the folds about her.
Nora looked around and noticed, for the first time, that they appeared to be alone. A hint of unease crept up her neck. While she was not uneasy with Lord Shefford, her grandmother would not appreciate having to defray commentary from the ton, should they be discovered in this clandestine position. She nibbled her lower lip, suddenly feeling anxious and short-sighted. Perhaps she should have brought Mary along to serve as a chaperone. Yet that would have left Mrs. Simpkins as the primary caregiver with the children. Woods and Marsh would be busy working on renovations on the upper floors. She would simply have to make this a short picnic. There was nothing else for it.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Colin asked, rousing her from her contemplation.
“I am afraid I was fretting. ’Tis something I seem to do more of since the orphanage opened,” she replied.
“I sense something is wrong. Pray enlighten me and allow me to share in your concerns.”
“I daresay I might…” Her voice sounded tentative, even to her own ears. “Would you think me dreadfully ungrateful if I asked you to find a less private place? It is a delightful spot, and in different circumstances I should love to sit here and enjoy the day. However, if we are discovered here, unchaperoned…”
“Say no more,” he said. “I understand completely. I should have given more thought to this. I had been thinking of my own needs—that is, I wanted us to have a place where we might speak uninterrupted. I did not consider your reputation. I know somewhere which might feel more suitable.” He turned and gave a quick whistle. Immediately, she heard horses and a carriage moving towards them.
“Gerard, drive on to the lake. There is a pretty prospect close to the palace gardens, with a statue and some benches.”
“At once, my lord.”
Within minutes, they had collected up the basket and blanket, and returned them, with themselves, into the carriage.
Nora was not sure what to say. She had not meant to create such a stir. They probably would not have been discovered. Anyway, since when did she care what the ton thought? She cared about what Grandmama thought, however, and she did not want to create a problem for her dear benefactor.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Of course! I should have considered. Please accept my apologies. There can be no objection here.”
As he finished his sentence, the carriage slowed to a stop. Nora glanced out of her window and saw that they were but a few hundred yards from the Guard’s House by Kensington Gardens. Here, the river which formed the Serpentine was surrounded by wide, open spaces. One or two small, empty rowboats bobbed up and down in the water, attached to a small dock beside a boating house. A clump of trees clustered near the bank, and a sandy path led down to a little beach. Logs and the occasional bench on which visitors to the park might sit, dotted the path, each sufficiently distanced. They were not in the main flow of Society, but this north side of the river was a public promenade. They would not be isolated. This was a pleasant prospect.
“This is a lovely spot,” she mused out loud, noticing there was no one about apart from a couple walking in the distance. Still, it was more public, at least, so it felt more proper. Nora hated that term and found Society’s use of it to be hypocritical, at least in her experience. Many of the unwanted children that found their places in orphanages—and worse—had been born on the wrong side of the blanket… a problem created by the proper aristocracy.
“Good!” Colin declared jovially.
The groom opened the door. “Will this be satisfactory, my lord?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you, Gerard,” he replied to the coachman. “Give me a hand.” Colin nodded towards a small grassy knoll in front of them, and the two men quickly reassembled the cozy picnic spot of ten minutes past. Gerard drew the carriage on to the grass beside the road. He and the groom settled themselves on the box to await his master’s orders.
Driven by an uncomfortable growl in her stomach, Nora checked her hat and picked up her reticule, ready for luncheon and conversation. Not waiting for Colin to return for her, she descended from the conveyance and followed the men.
Colin held her hand and helped her sit down comfortably. Before her, a spread of meats, cheeses, bread, and grapes waited.
“Please, take a plate,” he offered.
Feeling pinched, she smiled and selected a plate, filling it with the delightful fare, hoping to eat before the embarrassing growl of her empty stomach became an amusement.
“I daresay we should discuss expectations of our engagement,” she began, hoping to quell the nervous fluttering in her belly that had added to her discomfiture.
“Things have become somewhat different from the way they were when we first discussed marriage,” he said crisply, handing her a glass of lemonade. Nodding towards her glass he added, “I had heard from the children that Mrs. Simpkins makes the best lemonade, so I thought it sporting to try it today.”
“How so?” she ventured cautiously, accepting the glass.
As if recognizing her feelings of alarm, he smiled warmly. “Have no fear, my dear. I told you before that I always honor my offers. I have not changed my mind. We w
ill marry.” He tugged at his cravat, a sign that he might have felt some uneasiness. “However, I want more.”
“Please elaborate, sir,” she said, cringing inside and seeking refuge in sipping her lemonade. She gazed at the bottom of the glass as she drank. As she consumed more of the liquid, she discovered more and more clarity. She took the last sip and peeped down at the bottom of the glass. Now all is clear. It was an interesting analogy for her life.
It had been her belief that marriages of convenience favored only the men—once his duty done and the calves in the meadow, the bull is free to graze elsewhere. She would also be free to graze. Had she just used that vulgar comparison? A shudder shot through her as she realized she had. A marriage of convenience was not what she wanted. It was exactly what she did not want. She wanted love. She had grown up watching her parents support each other, love each other, grow old with each other. However, the lives of the children and this orphanage were now her priority. It would secure their future. Grandmama had offered security, but in turn, Uncle Wilford threatened it. Nora needed assurances and marriage to Lord Colin Shefford offered that.
“You must be thirsty,” he remarked, nodding to her glass. She blinked.
“Y-yes. I suppose I was,” she acknowledged, summoning a smile to turn up the corners of her mouth.
“I was as well.” He smirked, picked up the flask of lemonade and refilled their glasses. Nora watched his movements, entranced. His hands were spectacular. They were a comfortable size—hands which could fully enclose her own and keep hers warm. They were hands that could gently smooth away the hair from her face. She remembered his hands holding her, stroking her and pulling her closer.
Some sort of connection between the two of them had developed over the past few days, and she found it hard to disagree with a single thing. He had inserted himself into her life, changing everything familiar to her. She shook her head in disbelief. And now, she was engaged to him. Her life had turned upside-down, yet she was not unhappy, only puzzled. He was handsome, and despite her initial assessment of him, he was gallant and kind—and very handsome. That point, she decided, could not be accentuated enough.
Earl of Shefford: Noble Hearts Series: Book Three (Wicked Earls Book 28) Page 11
