by Ava Stone
Caroline’s hazel eyes twinkled devilishly. “My dear, he will turn a perfectly enraged shade of scarlet when he finds out we’ve gone shopping together.”
Lydia wasn’t necessarily convinced, but decided that a shopping excursion with Caroline was better than being locked away in her bedchamber for the rest of the day, waiting for solutions that weren’t coming. “Very well. Tell me, Caroline, who is London’s most expensive modiste?”
Caroline beamed. “Good girl, that’s the spirit.”
Before Lydia knew what happened, she found herself following her sister-in-law down the staircase and then toward the front door.
As luck would have it, Robert stood in their path in the hallway, arms folded across his broad chest. Upon seeing the two women, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Good of you to stop by, Caro. Phelps must have forgotten to announce you.”
Caroline was undaunted by her brother’s brusqueness. “Lydia and I are going shopping, Robert.”
“I don’t recall approving a shopping excursion.”
Caroline hooked Lydia’s arm in hers and brushed past her brother. “For pity’s sake, Robert. Someone should teach you how to be a good husband. Why don’t you make your way to Curzon Street and let Staveley give you lessons.” With that, she looked down her nose at her brother and ushered her Lydia down the front steps to her awaiting carriage.
~ 4 ~
Caroline swept into an exclusive shop on Bruton Street with all the grace of a Greek goddess. Madam Fournier, a tiny Frenchwoman with short, cropped, black hair and shrewd, silver eyes, positively glowed when she spotted the viscountess and kissed both of her cheeks. Then she set her sights on Lydia. “You have brought me a most beautiful creature, Lady Staveley. Tell me, what is it you desire?”
“I believe my dear sister-in-law would like a completely new wardrobe,” Caroline explained as she pushed Lydia into the middle of the room to be inspected by the slight Frenchwoman.
The modiste walked around the object of their discussion. When she stopped, she met Caroline’s eyes. “But she looks lovely already, no?”
At this Caroline grinned. “Of course she is, Madame, but you see my generous brother has offered his wife license to commission your artistic genius in the designing of the most magnificent and unique gowns of the season.” With a conspiratorial whisper, Caroline added, “How can a woman refuse an offer like that?”
Madam Fournier’s eyes sparkled at the thought. “Well, she should not, of course. Amelie!” she called, and her assistant promptly entered the room.
From that time on, Lydia saw every fashion plate in the store and was poked and prodded more times than she cared to count. When she told Caroline that Robert had every intention of moving her out to the country with great haste, Caroline was so annoyed with her brother that she ordered several dresses for herself as well—and asked Madam to make sure that Lord Masten received the bill the following morning.
After finally bidding Madam adieu, Lydia and Caroline left the trendy modiste’s shop in search of more items to purchase. Lydia had finally gotten into the spirit of spending Robert’s money. Several hats, gloves, and slippers later, the women were exhausted from their excursion.
Lydia had been alone for so long that, while this outing with Caroline had been a bit overtaxing, she was comforted by the camaraderie that her sister-in-law offered. As such, she wasn’t quite ready to return to Berkeley Square. “Do you think we could go by Covent Garden, Caro? I always loved the fruit and vegetable market there.”
Caroline looked confused. “The fruit and vegetable market?”
With a slight blush, Lydia nodded. “I haven’t been there since I’ve been back in London. I once went daily for Mama.”
“You do know, Lydia, that as my brother’s countess there’s no need for you to shop for fruits and vegetables?”
“Since Masten is intent on sending me back, Caro, I’d just like to see it before I leave for good.”
“Very well.” Caroline smiled indulgently and then gave the orders to her coachman.
***
The bustling market at Covent Garden was just as Lydia remembered it: industrious vendors hawking their wares, middle class matrons and scullery maids filling their baskets, and children—happy children playing and chasing each other around the carts. Lydia smiled as memories rushed into her mind. Life was, if not easier, more innocent when she was that age—when Mama was still alive.
Her reverie was interrupted when Caroline screamed, “Stop! Thief!”
A small child dashed into a nearby alleyway with what looked like Caroline’s reticule. Without a look back, Lydia picked up her skirts and dashed after the grubby little boy. She could hear Caroline calling for her to stop, but she continued along the path the child had taken—around a corner and right into a darkened alleyway.
At once she saw the child, a young boy, maybe six years old. He held his ribs and offered up Caroline’s reticule to a burly, dirt-covered, scowling man who stood at the end of the alley. When the man caught sight of Lydia, he grabbed a handful of the boy’s clothes. “Wot’s this?” he hissed angrily at the child. “Stupid li’l good fer nut’in, the lady follow’d ye.”
The child began to shake with fear. For a moment she was afraid the man was going to strike the boy. She couldn’t let that happen. “Unhand that child at once!” Her most haughty voice echoed off the walls in the grime-covered alley.
With a sneer, the man snatched the reticule from the boy’s fingers and pushed the child against the hard, brick wall with a thud. Then he turned his brown-toothed grin on Lydia. “’Ere, Missus. Looks like th’ lad swiped yer pretty li’l bag.”
She should have been fearful, but she was not. She was too angry, and became even angrier when she heard the soft whimpers of the boy as he gingerly touched his own arm and bent his knotted and tousled head. Without hesitation, Lydia marched up to the towering swine of a man and ripped the reticule from his hands. “How dare you lay a finger on that child!”
Surprise flashed across the swarthy man’s face, quickly replaced by anger. “Wot I do’s no business o’ yers. Ye’ve got yer bag—”
“We shall see about that.” Lydia was furious, but she wouldn’t allow her voice to shake. She reached out her hand to the boy who was now crying silently. “Come on, boy. Come with me.”
The boy shook with fear and looked from the scowling countenance of the burly man to Lydia’s sympathetic face. Skittishly, he started to inch toward her when the man’s sweaty hand grabbed his shoulder. With a start, the boy’s panicked eyes flew to the man’s.
“Goin’ somewheres, Petey?”
The boy gulped to swallow his tears and struggled to free himself from the burly man’s grasp.
Lydia had seen enough. It mattered very little right now that this boy had taken Caroline’s reticule. He was just a little thing in the grasp of a mean and intimidating bully. Her voice dropped to the most threatening tone she could muster. “Remove your hands from that child this instant.”
“Or wot?” the man sneered back.
“Or I’ll scream at the top of my lungs and have the watch all over your pathetic hide in the blink of an eye. One word from me and you’ll find yourself in a dank and crowded cell at Newgate, awaiting deportation.” Lydia didn’t wait for the man to release the boy. She stepped forward and took the child’s filthy hand in her pristine, white, gloved one and tugged him toward her. “Come on, little one. You’ll be safe with me.”
But the boy hesitated and shook his head. “I cain’t, miss.”
Lydia shot the man a warning look. “Of course you can. This fellow isn’t going to hurt either of us. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
In the distance, a constable’s whistle could be heard. The burly man took one last sneering look at Lydia and then took off around the bend.
“See there,” Lydia continued soothingly, “now there’s nothing to worry about. I won’t let any harm come to you.”
The boy lost t
he tentative hold he had on his emotions and a heart-breaking sob was ripped from his soul. “N-no, m-m-miss. ’Tis b-b-because of P-penny.”
“Penny?” Lydia echoed.
A little girl, who seemed not much older than a toddler, stumbled out from the shadows of the alley. Lydia could see at once how she’d missed the child. The girl was soot-covered from top to bottom and was camouflaged perfectly in the dingy little alleyway. She was crying, too. “Is all righ’, Petey. I’ll be all righ’.”
Lydia looked from one filthy child to the next. “Good Heavens! How many of you are there?”
The boy gulped, “Jus’ me an’ Penny.”
Lydia’s heart broke. “Is this your sister?”
The boy nodded, and Lydia tightened her grip on his hand. “Very well, you’ll both come with me then.” Without a second thought, Lydia scooped up the little girl in her arms and pulled the boy along, back into the open spaces of Covent Garden.
“Miss,” the girl began with a timid little voice, “’Ere ya gonna give Petey to th’ cons’able?”
Lydia stared into the desolate brown eyes of the little girl and shook her head solemnly. “No, we won’t speak to a constable. Where are your parents?”
“We ain’t go’ any.” Petey stated matter-of-factly.
Good heavens! They didn’t have any? Lydia heaved a sigh. Memories of that horrid orphanage she’d been sent to flashed through her mind. She’d only had to stay a month before Aunt Agnes had found her, but a month had been too long. A more miserable place on earth had not been found. She was afraid to ask, but had to know. “What do you mean you haven’t got any?”
The little girl buried her face against Lydia’s peacock blue Spencer jacket, trembling as she cried.
“It don’t matter. I’ve been takin’ care o’ Penny, an’ we get by good enuf.”
Lydia knelt down, and looked the battered little boy in the eyes. There was a bruise on his right cheek, he was covered in grime, and his clothes were threadbare and about to disintegrate all together. “I think you’ve done a marvelous job. Petey, is it?” At the boy’s nod, Lydia continued in a soothing voice, “Well, Petey, believe it or not I know how hard life can be for children, and I want to help you.” The boy’s eyes grew large, and Lydia smoothed away his matted brown hair away from his forehead. “I live in a huge house and if you and Penny would like, I’ll take you home with me. If you’ll let me, I’ll take care of both of you from now on.”
The offer was obviously too good to be believed for the little pick-pocket and he backed away carefully. “Wot you want wi' us, miss?”
“I just want to help you. I helped you back there, didn’t I?” She gestured toward the alleyway.
Petey nodded, but didn’t step any closer to her. “Why?”
Lydia smiled sadly. “When I was about your age, I found myself in an orphanage. If I can help keep you from that fate, I feel that I must. How much longer can the two of you survive out here, Petey?”
The boy hung his head and shrugged. Cautiously, Lydia stepped toward him and put her hand on his shoulder. “If you don’t like my house, I won’t make you stay.”
Petey’s head rose and he stared at his sister before his dark brown gaze once again met Lydia’s. “All righ’, miss.”
“Good.” Lydia ruffled his hair and offered her hand to him, which he then took without hesitation.
***
Caroline was nearly hysterical. She had finally gotten the attention of a constable and was gesturing wildly in the direction her sister-in-law had taken off in. What was Lydia thinking? She had just disappeared around the corner, chasing after the little cutpurse. There was nothing in Caroline’s reticule that was important enough to risk one’s safety.
Added to her worry, Caroline knew that Robert would kill her if anything happened to Lydia. It was one thing to take her sister-in-law on a spite-inspired shopping spree, quite another to allow her to get her lost chasing after some dangerous criminal types.
The constable, a wiry middle-aged man, was just about to start off in the direction Caroline indicated, when Lydia stepped from around the corner carrying a tiny, dirt-covered child and holding the hand of another one. “Oh, thank heavens, there she is.” Caroline gestured wildly to her sister-in-law. What in the world was Lydia doing with those children?
When the child walking by Lydia’s side caught sight of Caroline, he panicked and tried to pull away from Lydia’s grasp. But her sister-in-law’s hold was firm and she tugged the child along with her.
Caroline rushed to meet the trio. “Lydia!” she shrieked. “What in the world possessed you to do such a foolish thing? And what are you doing with these filthy children?”
Lydia nodded politely at the constable. “There’s a dangerous man in that alley over there. He was going to harm these children. If you hurry you can probably catch him.”
The constable found himself looking from one lady to the other. Finally, Caroline nodded. “Well, what are you waiting for?” At that, the constable took off at a near sprint and left the two ladies to eye each other.
“Lydia, what happened? If you had been harmed, Robert would have killed me.”
With a raised brow, Lydia smirked. “I think that’s doing it up a bit brown. Think how happy Masten would be to be rid of me, Caro.”
“Oh, Lydia, you mustn’t think that!” Caroline was exasperated. “I know he can be domineering and gruff, but truly, he wouldn’t have gone to these lengths to get you under his roof if he didn’t want you there.”
Lydia scoffed. “If only someone cared what I want.”
This day was going from bad to worse. At this rate Robert would have Caroline’s head on a platter. Caroline grimaced. “Darling, I care what you want. But may we please leave now? I’d better get you home before it gets much later.” Or before something else happens. “I’m sure these children will be fine now.”
Matter-of-factly, Lydia started toward Caroline’s coach. “Yes, they will because I am taking the children with me to Masten House.”
“To Masten House?” Caroline squeaked. Her impending death at her brother’s hands was getting clearer by the moment. “Robert will be furious. Please, Lydia, I’m sure these…these children have their own home to go to. We’ll just take them there.”
Lydia stopped walking and stared Caroline straight in the eyes. “Look at them. Do they look like they have a home to you?”
Of course they didn’t. They were little vagabonds, the both of them. Caroline swallowed. Hard. Then she turned her gaze to the boy, who she was certain was the little thief that had taken her reticule. “Do you, boy? Do you have a home?”
Silently, with his eyes focused on his tattered shoes, the boy shook his head.
“See?” Lydia replied coolly. “They’re coming with us.”
Caroline tried to keep up with her sister-in-law’s purposeful gait. “Lydia, listen to reason. This is madness. You can’t take these children to Masten House. We’ll wait and ask the constable about an orphanage.”
“Have you ever stepped foot inside an orphanage, Caroline?” Lydia called over her shoulder without slowing her pace.
“No.” Though she’d heard horror stories about such places.
“Well, I have and we’re not taking these children to one. This is not madness, it is humanitarianism.”
“Robert will…well, I don’t know what Robert will do, but you won’t like it, whatever it is.” Caroline struggled to keep up with Lydia’s determined gait.
Lydia reached the coach and waited for the wide-eyed coachman to open the door and lower the steps. “Caroline, there has not been one thing Robert has done that I have liked. I’m sure this will be no different. He wants me out of his hair. I don’t think he’ll care overmuch if I take these children with me to the country. He won’t be around to see them anyway.”
Lydia placed the little girl on one of the padded velvet seats and then helped the boy up the stairs before stepping into the coach herself. She took the li
ttle girl into her lap and made a space for the boy to sit next to them.
With an overwhelming feeling of trepidation, Caroline nodded to her coachman, gave her brother’s Berkeley Square address, and then took her seat across from her filthy guests. The children smelled awful. What exactly the odor was, Caroline couldn’t say—but it was nauseating.
She stared across the coach to her sister-in-law. The little girl had curled up in Lydia’s lap and rested her grimy head against Lydia’s chest. The boy wrung his hands and looked anxiously at Caroline. With a comforting pat on his head, Lydia smiled at the little urchin.
For the entire ride to Masten House, Caroline tried to talk Lydia out of this recklessness, but to no avail. In fact, against her own better judgment, Caroline had promised to send over clothes that Adam and the girls had outgrown. If the children were going to stay at Masten House, they at least needed clean, fresh clothes. But Caroline had her doubts that they would be staying. She couldn’t see Robert agreeing to such a thing.
As they pulled up before her brother’s Berkeley Square home, Caroline took one last weary glance at her sister-in-law. “Oh, Lydia, and here I’d thought just to spend some of the man’s money. I daresay you will punish my brother more than I could ever hope to.”
***
Robert returned from an afternoon spent at his club to find that his home had been turned upside down. As soon as he entered the house he noticed Phelps’ beleaguered expression. The man was usually unflappable. Then he heard a high-pitched squeal come from one of the upstairs bedrooms. What the devil was going on? “Phelps, is there something you would care to tell me?”
The butler grimaced but then nodded his head. “It’s her ladyship, my lord—”
“Her ladyship has been squealing like that while I’ve been gone?” That didn’t sound like Lydia. He envisioned his wife as more of a throwing and breaking things sort. Besides, the squeal seemed to come from a child.
