A Dream of Redemption

by Bronwen Evans

  “Is there something urgent you need her for? I can always send a servant to fetch her.”

  He stood up straight and made to leave the room. “No. It can wait.”

  “What can wait?” Marisa asked as she breezed back into the room.

  Mr. Homeward’s demeanor changed in a flash. A look of reverence entered his gaze as he approached Marisa. “Your Grace, I need to find a suitable time for you and me to pay a visit to the orphanage you have just acquired in Southwark. I think it should be sooner rather than later.”

  As Marisa took her seat, she asked, “Did you look in my diary?”

  Mr. Homeward flashed a look at Helen as if to say I told you so.

  “Yes, but the only date free was the sixteenth.”

  Helen sat up straight. Marisa would be away that day. That was during the few days that Maitland wanted to surprise his wife with a romantic liaison. She couldn’t let her sister agree to a trip on that day. But how could she stop her without giving the surprise away?

  She cleared her throat. “Marisa, would you mind if I got more involved in your charity work? Perhaps I could take the lead on this new orphanage. With Mr. Homeward’s help that is.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Mr. Homeward’s tone was quite emphatic.

  She leaned forward and ignored the virile man glowering at her and spoke to Marisa. “Since I am putting my other plans on hold, I need something to do with my time. I’d really like to help; you are getting too busy.”

  Marisa looked at Mr. Homeward before looking at Helen. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. It’s a new orphanage, and we have not really taken stock of how it is operating. You—your sensibilities—may be shocked at what we find.”

  Helen wracked her brain to think of another reason Marisa could not agree to that date. If she could shoot daggers at Mr. Homeward she would. “Mr. Homeward was just implying how superfluous my life is. I really do want to help. Please let me do this,” she asked softly.

  “Clarence!” Marisa scolded.

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I did not imply any such thing. I merely said you put the orphanages first.”

  Marisa nodded and Helen could see her chewing her bottom lip, which meant she was thinking. “Do you know you are right, Clary. I have been putting them first and Maitland keeps reminding me I also have a family. Since Aunt Alison passed away, I have need for another helper. I give a lot of my time to the orphanages and it’s very rewarding but my husband and children need me too.” She turned to Helen. “Are you sure about this? If you want to take charge of the Southwark orphanage it will be a lot of hard, and often painful, emotional work. You’ll lose your heart to the children and it will become a lifelong commitment.”

  Was she ready? Mr. Homeward’s eyes bored into her as if daring Helen to say yes. He was usually Mr. Calm, so totally collected, quiet, and emotionless, blending into the background, but right now his eyes blazed. She wanted to say yes just to see his reaction. However, she did not want to commit for the wrong reasons. The children deserved a total commitment.

  Helen thought about the orphans Marisa had helped and she’d seen the joy her sister took from it. At the moment Helen’s life was empty. She lived in her brother’s home with his wife and children and felt like an imposer. Her sister and her brother both wanted her married off. Oh, she understood they wanted her happy too, but if she said yes to helping with the Southwark orphanage, her life would have some purpose. Then she could keep busy and let fate take a hand in sending her Prince Charming.

  Besides, she grinned to herself, it would annoy Mr. Homeward.

  “I would be honored if you’d let me become more involved, and I vow I will not let you down.”

  She could almost swear that she saw steam coming from Mr. Homeward’s ears, and for a second she also thought she saw fear in his eyes. But when she looked again all she saw was anger. She sat up straighter.

  Marisa clapped her hands together. “Perfect! Maitland will be pleased that I’m sharing my responsibilities. Clary, arrange for a trip to Southwark at your earliest convenience. You may have to meet with Helen beforehand to go over how our orphanage reviews are conducted.”

  Mr. Homeward’s face was a mask of calm once more. He simply nodded at Marisa and said to Helen, “If you could send me a note when it would be suitable to meet?”

  “Certainly. If it’s all right with Marisa, I’ll have a small desk moved in here too. Then I shall be close by should you need me,” and she smiled sweetly at Mr. Homeward, wanting to needle him more.

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Helen.” Marisa smiled. “Now, Clary, if there is nothing more, Helen and I have a shopping trip to plan.”

  * * *

  —

  Clary’s teeth were grinding as he calmly took his leave of the ladies. As much as he would’ve liked, he didn’t slam his office door, but closed it quietly behind him, and then he cursed. And cursed. And cursed.

  His day had started out badly and just got a whole lot worse. His latest lover, a young opera singer, had decided she wanted more than he was prepared to give. More than they had agreed on when they’d started their affair, and on her way out of his bed this morning she’d almost unmanned him when he politely declined her offer and then ended their liaison.

  Despite the life he had been forced to live as a young boy, he still enjoyed sex. Craved it even. However, he did not trust anyone, let alone himself, enough to let another person too close. Everyone in his life had deceived, lied to, or abused him. He was not about to open himself up to any type of intimacy. Sex—freely indulged sex—was necessary and enjoyable, and if he trusted no one he could never be hurt again.

  But this, this having to work with Lady Helen, was far worse.

  Lady Helen was his angel. She was the purest, most innocent, kind, and beautiful person he’d ever had the privilege to meet. She’d been so kind to a young man sitting on the floor in the corridor worrying when Her Grace had been injured. Taking the time to reassure him. But he’d been too wracked with pain to think much about her then.

  He could still remember the moment he’d fallen under her spell. He had arrived for his first day in his new role, and he came out of his office to see a vision of purity and beauty standing in the foyer. From his life of darkness and sin, she was the glowing light of goodness.

  The front door was open and the sun was shining behind her, giving her an ethereal glow. Her fair hair was piled on top of her head and laced with pearls that glinted in the sunlight. She was dressed in a gown of emerald, and it made the green of her eyes stand out in her clear, creamy complexion.

  When she saw him she smiled. He barely heard her say hello as she walked toward him. Her face was exquisite. Her eyes were filled with warmth, and her luscious lips looked completely void of sin. It was obvious that she had no idea just how stunningly gorgeous she was.

  He could barely breathe.

  So pure. So innocent. So perfect…

  He fell in love instantly.

  Then he’d remembered that he was not good enough to lick the dirt off of her dainty slippers. He had always kept his distance because he was too scared to be near her in case his sordid past tainted her in some way. He ran his hand through his hair and chased those memories away.

  His other hand slipped into his jacket pocket and gripped the key he found there. Remember what you have to lose. His fingers stroked the cold iron as he tried to calm the panic that rose.

  She already haunted his nights. Now he would see her every day.

  He would have to spend much of his time in her company.

  It would be heaven.

  It would be torture.

  He could hardly wait.

  Chapter 2

  That afternoon, Clary tried to concentrate on the ledger in front of him, but all he could see was the image of Lady Helen. She’d called to collect Marisa to go to another ball last night.

  Like a blind man who’d suddenly got his sight back, he’d drunk in her
beauty. He had hidden behind his slightly open study door and peered at her through the crack. She’d been a vision in her pale apricot gown. It was the first time in his life that he wished he could attend a high society ball. He’d love to see her waltz.

  He’d love to waltz with her. To have her in his arms on the dance floor would be pure heaven.

  Fool. He let out a groan. That would never happen. He would never be accepted in her world. He was lowly born, the lowest of the low. He had no idea of his surname. He’d been so young when left on a street corner with nothing but the little hand of his younger brother, Simon, wrapped in his. So he’d simply made up his own surname. Homeward—he wanted to go home and he was determined to set forth and find his mother. On that day he became Clarence Homeward. It had been Her Grace who had shortened it to Clary.

  He shuddered as dark memories flooded his mind. He swore he would never do anything that would see either himself or Simon end up back in the gutter. Never again would he sell himself just to have food in order to live.

  He could feel the key to his bachelor rooms sitting heavy in his pocket.

  Her Grace had given him a chance to leave that life behind—and Simon too. He owed her everything.

  Clary threw his quill on the desk and rubbed his face with his hands.

  Deep down inside he knew working with Lady Helen would only lead to trouble. She unsettled him. Made him want things he never thought he’d ever want. He knew he should not want more from his life than he already had because if there was a God, and Clary was doubtful, he’d already had as much divine intervention as any man could hope for.

  Her Grace had been his savior.

  He stood and moved to the window that overlooked the cobblestone street. What would those who lived in luxury in this street, who peered out from behind the curtains each night as he walked home, think if they knew what he’d once been. They’d likely lock up their children.

  He straightened his cravat. Helen would be arriving soon. This afternoon he would have to spend time in her presence and guide her through her role of helping to evaluate an orphanage.

  Only yesterday he’d tried to explain to Marisa why letting Lady Helen take on this project was not a good idea. He’d pointed out that they had no idea what they might find at the orphanage and that Helen was not experienced in the evil ways of this world. He was uncomfortable with being put in a position where he would have to explain delicate matters. He knew he could not do that. How could he taint someone so innocent with life’s horrible truths?

  Marisa had laughed and told him that Helen was not naïve. She had assured him that she had not told Helen anything of his background. It was over to him how much he wanted to share.

  Share? Never!

  Just then Lady Helen’s carriage pulled up, and as she stepped out she glanced up at his window. He should have stepped back but he couldn’t move and she gave a small wave before continuing into the house.

  * * *

  —

  Helen stepped into her sister’s home and tried to hide her shaking hands. What on earth did she think she was doing? She was no expert on children, other than her nieces and nephews and her friends’ children, who would be very different from those she was going to meet. Although the orphans would be much younger than her, they were likely to be wiser about the world. She hated how naïve she was. How little she’d seen of what was outside her small, glittery life.

  Already she was trying to fortify her heart. Marisa had told her upon her first visit to an orphanage she’d wanted to take each child home and love them.

  Deep breath. Helen did not knock on the study door. This was to be her office too, so she merely breezed in with a confident smile on her face, and Marisa rose to hug her.

  “Helen, I rang for tea when I heard you arrive. We will join Clary shortly but first I think we should have a little chat, woman to woman.”

  Helen sat down behind her desk and ran her hands over it. She’d never had such a large desk before. It was masculine in stature and her task became very real. The smell of the inlaid leather in the middle, to place parchment on so it was easier to write, filled her nostrils. To the right she saw that Marisa had already supplied her with quills and ink and parchment, and lying in the middle of the leather inlay was a deep navy apron with a bright blue bow around it, to wear on her visit to keep her gown clean.

  A sense of importance sunk into her bones. For once she was going to actually contribute something of worth to the world. She wanted to hug her sister.

  “I won’t let you down, I promise.”

  “Oh, Helen. When have you ever let me down?”

  “It’s just I know how important the children are to you.”

  Once the tea had been served Marisa said, “Come, let’s sit by the fire.”

  Helen reluctantly left her desk and joined her sister by the fire at the end of their study. She sunk into the well-cushioned longue next to Marisa and waited for her to impart her words of wisdom.

  “I don’t really know where to begin,” her sister said. “We ladies of the ton lead a very sheltered life.”

  Helen sat sipping her tea not quite sure where this was going.

  Marisa sighed and put her cup of tea down. She removed the cup from Helen’s hands and gripped them. “You are a sensible woman. Strong, courageous, with a huge heart, but you will see and hear things that will quite probably shock you.”

  Helen tried not to let her hands shake. “I know the world is not a safe place. I know that people do terrible things to each other. I remember Mother and Father.” At her sister’s raised eyebrow she added, “Rather tame in the scheme of things, I imagine. But I read the news sheets too. I know how cruel and dangerous London is. That is why you decided to help the orphans.”

  “When you visit let Clary guide you. He’ll know what to look for. But there are signs you can see too.”

  “Go on.”

  “Check the matrons’ and nurses’ rooms. See if they are kept clean and tidy or if they are dirty.”

  She nodded. “That would indicate they are slovenly and likely lazy.”

  “Yes. And most likely the children will also be dirty.” Marisa paused. “And try to talk to the girls on your own. Pick a few and speak with them privately. See if they will tell you how they are looked after. Usually the younger ones are too scared to talk so pick a few of the older girls. Ask them if they are given jobs to do and what kind of jobs.”

  “Do you mean cleaning, that sort of thing?”

  Marisa took a deep breath and let go of her hands. “No. I mean being forced to go out and steal, or sell things, or do favors for men.”

  Helen gasped. “Surely not. They are children.” She knew about the pickpockets, young children starving on the streets. She also had heard of courtesans, mistresses, and the like. Before he’d married, her brother, Sebastian, had been known to like the ladies of the night, as they were called.

  At her shocked look, her sister said, “I know I should have told you more about the unjust world outside of the ivory tower we young ladies live in but Sebastian ordered me not to.”

  “Why? Perhaps the world would be safer for us and we could do more to help if we were told just how bad the streets of London are for those without someone to look out for them. I cannot believe I have been so protected or that I am so naïve to the ways of the world.”

  Marisa nodded. “Perhaps not telling you the full story was wrong. You can defer to Clary if you think anything looks out of place or if you have any suspicions at all. He won’t care if you make a mistake. It’s better to err on the side of caution.”

  Helen’s face heated at the idea of having to discuss such things with Mr. Homeward. “I can also talk to you, I assume?”

  “Of course, but I won’t be there when you first visit Southwark. Clary is very easy to talk to and nonjudgmental. He has had an unusual upbringing.”

  She blinked twice. “I don’t really know the man. What is his background?”

&nb
sp; “You will need to ask him that. All I can say is you will be perfectly safe in his company. He is a very honorable young man.” Marisa stood up. “Come, let’s go to his study, and he can detail how we will approach this visit.”

  Helen stood and patted down her dress, willing herself to stop hyperventilating.

  She stayed behind her sister as Marisa knocked and entered. Clary jumped to his feet.

  “Your Grace, I would have come to your study if you’d called.”

  “I cannot stay, so I thought it easier to show Helen to your office as most of the papers and files on Southwark are here,” Marisa said as she directed Helen to a chair. She smiled at Helen and said, “I’m off to help Susan pack. Maitland has surprised me with a few days away. We are leaving at first light tomorrow.” Marisa winked at her. “But then you know that. I saw your bags being brought in.”

  Helen loved seeing the excited smile on Marisa’s face. She was staying while Marisa was away only because it would give her sister the ability to relax on her surprise romantic break.

  Marisa bent and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

  With that she was gone and Helen was left alone with a serious-looking Mr. Homeward. When Marisa closed the door behind her, he cleared his throat.

  “That’s why you volunteered to review the Southwark orphanage. You knew she would be away.”

  How perceptive of him. “Yes. But I do really want to help my sister. With her family growing she is taking on a lot.”

  He nodded, and she saw the hardness in him soften slightly. She looked around his study and was amazed at how tidy it was. Everything was placed just so on his desk. Each pile of paper was straight. His quills all lay facing the same way in a line. Everything looked as though it was arranged in a particular and precise fashion. She would be embarrassed to show Mr. Homeward her room. She dropped everything where she last used it.

  “We will visit Southwark tomorrow, leaving here at nine if that suits, my lady.”

  “Fine with me. Do they know we are coming?”